The sun was setting and it was almost dinner time. Alejandro and I were busy at work setting the table. Mami passed each of us a small stack of place mats to lay on the glass table. Of course it was glass, I thought with a scrunch of my nose. Whose great idea was it that the one thing missing from a big family meal was a front row display of everyone’s feet? Bleh! Glass is also super easy to break. You have one impromptu game of indoor baseball and all of a sudden there’s glass everywhere and you’re grounded for a month. Anyway, I’m getting off topic. The table was rather large, rectangular, and was held up by a simple, white wicker stand.


    We carefully arranged the white and gold bordered mats before the five chairs. Mami then called us back to the kitchen. My little brother was given five bamboo plates which was Abuelo’s idea. He didn’t want to dirty the porcelain plates which, in his words, were only to be used on special occasions. I supposed this didn’t count. Mami then gave me two glass cups as she carried the other three, utensils, and a pitcher of iced water. Papi briefly came out of the steamy kitchen with folded napkins, plopped them on the table, and went back. Abuelo was busy inside, still finishing cooking.


    The smell of sazón was pungent in the air. My mouth began to water and my stomach grumbled impatiently. Mami, Alejandro, and I took our seats. Abuelo and Papi soon started their way out of the kitchen with food in their hands and as they reached the opening, Abuelo rushed forward, nearly making Papi drop what he was carrying while sneering, “Elders before youngsters.”


    Papi gave the old man an annoyed frown and looked at Mami. To my surprise she quickly looked away, which was unlike her. If I had pulled a stunt like that I’d have been hearing about it for a week at least. Mami seemed to be more sad than she was upset. Leaning in between Mami and me, Abuelo placed a big bowl of arroz con gandules y pollo* on the center of the table. Papi mumbled something of which I just couldn’t make out, then placed a plate of pan sobao* and butter, along with a small bowl of aguacate* beside it. He slumped down next to Alejandro and shot a glare at Abuelo, but the old man didn’t notice, or if he had, he simply didn’t care.


    Reaching over to grab the bowl of arroz, Abuelo scooped a hefty portion onto his plate and without looking up, said, “I made plenty, so take as much as you want.”


    “Gracias, Papá. Um,” Mami started, taking the bowl of arroz in hand to pour on my plate and then hers while Papi cut an aguacate in half, “I wanted to tell you my—”


    “Pan sobao,” Abuelo interrupted without so much as a please, hand outstretched expectantly. I barely hold back a sneer. What was with this guy?


    Mami just sighed. “Sure,” she said, grabbing the plate of pan sobao and passed it to him after taking one for herself. “Anyway, my job opened up a new museum recently, Museo el Cemí. It houses a vast collection of Taíno artifacts and the opening celebrations are still going on. I’d be happy if you could come see it? I know how much you—”


    “Depends on my schedule, dear,” Abuelo interrupted again with a flick of his hand. He then plucked up a cherry tomato with his index finger and thumb and bit it in half, the juices spilling down the corner of his mouth and chin. Without even glancing at us, he got to work shoveling more food into his mouth.


    Mami’s smile slowly faded. “Oh, of course.”


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    I poked at the food on my plate, my annoyance rising. Papi continued to glare at Abuelo while Alejandro fidgeted nervously in his seat. It couldn’t have been more than a couple of seconds of silence but Mami’s dejected words hung heavily in the air. I sat up as straight as possible in my seat and said, “I’d love to go to the museum again. The stuff there is really neat, Mami.”


    A small smile slid onto her face. “Thank you, Irene.”


    “Anyway,” Abuelo said, stretching a hand out toward Papi as if waiting for an aguacate, “my next book comes out at the end of summer and I’ve already received a string of adaptation requests. One was even for a”—he waved his hand in a circle—“what’s it called, comic book?” A hearty laugh boomed from his mouth. “I won’t be accepting that nonsense. Such a childish waste of time.”


    Papi rolled his eyes but managed to drop an aguacate into Abuelo’s hand. “It’s not nonsense you old fart,” he mumbled, which caused my little hermanito* and I to snort. Abuelo cut his fruit and continued boasting for several long minutes.


    As it seemed he was finally done and began stuffing his face again, Mami chimed in again. “The food is delicious, Papá!”


    “Of course it is.” Abuelo swallowed with a satisfied smile. “There was a reason I always cooked instead of Maria.”


    The entire dining room went deathly quiet. I couldn’t believe he would mention our late Abuelita* so callously. The color in Mami’s face drained at the mention of her mamá*. I was starting to see why Papi didn’t like this man. He was arrogant, rude, and dismissive of each of us. Did he even want to reconnect with us? This trip had been his idea and he didn’t even care to hear  anything any of us had to say. I glanced at Alejandro who visibly shrank in his chair. Papi was gripping his fork so tightly I thought he might stick it into something that wasn’t food.


    Mami’s eyes misted over and her voice was soft. “R-Right. Um—”


    “Oh, before I forget,” Abuelo cut her off, “I’m leaving you this house.”


    “What?” Mami exclaimed, dropping her fork which clattered against the glass table. “But—what about Alberto?”


    Oh, Alberto was Mami’s oldest brother by the way; my uncle. Funny guy. Likes to sneak us candy when our parents aren’t looking.


    Abuelo just shrugged. “What about him? Ungrateful good for nothing. He and your other siblings have been ignoring me.”


    Papi snorted and mumbled again under his breath, “I wonder why.”


    “Oh!” Mami squeaked seemingly to cover up his words. “I-I don’t know. This is such a big house, and I don’t think I can afford—”


    “It’s already paid for.” Abuelo smiled. There was something about his expression that struck me as odd. It was like the smile didn’t reach his eyes. He was starting to give me the creeps. “Everything has been taken care of. You have nothing to worry about.”


    Papi narrowed his eyes. “What’s the catch?”


    “José!” Mami chastised.


    Abuelo stretched his hands out wide and, for a moment, I thought I saw something sinister cross his expression. “You brought me my grandkids. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” As if the discussion was over, he then returned to his food.


    Papi watched Abuelo with a suspicious look for the remainder of the meal and Mami sat rigidly, not saying another word. I looked at Alejandro who slowly ate his food, occasionally glancing back and forth to each adult. I didn’t dare to say another word either. Beyond Abuelo’s rudeness, the hurt in Mami’s face, the anger in Papi’s demeanor, and all the unpleasantness of the conversation, one thing stood out above everything else that made my skin crawl. From the moment Abuelo had taken his seat, my chest thrummed stronger than anything I had ever felt in my entire life.