“-Was once an ordinary chemistry teacher until one day she found a radioactive eraser-”

“Licita, have you seen my baseball card?” Andrew wanders into the living room, whining over the TV. “It’s gone, and Mami will be super mad if she knows I losed it again.”

“With this new power, she became ‘Miss Brain’ the mind-boggling brilliant superheroine of justice!”

“Which baseball card?” I raise my eyebrows, trying to pretend to listen to Andrew and actually listen to the TV at the same time. I fail at both.

‘My Sammy Sosa card that Anthony gave me.”

“Why is it always the Sammy Sosa one every time you lose a baseball card?” I laugh slightly, but the laugh feels like a sigh.

Andrew mumbles, digging his toes into the carpet like he’s trying to bore a hole through the floor, “Because it’s my favorite one, so it’s the one that runs away the most.”

 I sigh again.

“Baseball cards don’t have legs, Andrew.”

“My baseball cards have legs,” he mutters stubbornly, and I just ignore him, leaning forward to turn up the volume.

Andrew stands rigidly beside the recliner, staring at the TV screen for about thirty seconds, before putting his little hand on the glossy armrest and tracing the floral pattern with his fingers over and over again until I think he’ll get a friction burn.

“I lost my baseball card,” he mumbles again after a minute, bending over and resting his cheek on my knee so his coppery-brown curls spill over my faded jeans. Lazily my fingers make their way to his hair and stroke the silky mass.

“You already said that.”

“You didn’t say it makes you sad,” he whispers. “It makes me sad.” 

His voice has that sing-songy lilt in it like he’s going to start crying, and I force myself to be patient, leaning forward and kissing his squishy baby cheek.

“If it makes you sad then it makes me sad too. Sis will help you find your baseball card, so don’t cry, okay?”

His eyes are so wet they shine like real gold when he looks up at me, but he smiles, grabbing my hair with both his chubby hands and laughing.

“Your hair is tickly.”

“So is yours, you booger. We’re exactly the same. I’m just girl you.” 

I nudge his head lightly with my knee so he’ll stand upright, and then I hop out of the recliner, raising my hands above my head as I do to keep the shoulder of my stretched tee shirt from slipping down.

I know Mami is just waiting for a reason to throw this away. 

She’s already said it’s going in the trash if she catches me looking sloppy one more time. But then she’ll tell Daddy I need new clothes, and they’re not going to have any more fights about stupidness if there’s anything I can do about it.

I lead Andrew out of the living room and into the steamy kitchen where Mami has three pots bubbling on the stove and a bowl of cornmeal dough sitting on the table half kneaded.

The air smells like a special occasion and that makes me feel sick. The little bit of appetite I didn’t lose earlier when Tia Miguelina rang the doorbell, turns into an ‘I’m gonna puke’ feeling in the back of my throat, and I hurry Andrew down the hall to our room before Mom can try to talk to us.

“Where did you check already?” I ask Drew, as I push the bedroom door open with my foot. “Did you look in the dresser?”

“I looked everywhere,” he says emphatically like he expects me to argue it. “It just turned invisible.”

I resist rolling my eyes a second time and sigh instead, feeling like Mami as I crouch down to pick his textbooks up off the floor. “Invisible or not, you won’t be able to find anything with all this messiness spread around. Did you finish your homework?”

“Almost,” he squirms, and his voice is abnormally quiet. 

The worksheet in my hand looks a lot less than ‘almost’ complete.

“Andrew…” I started to scold in my best Mom voice, but as I unfold the crumpled textbook pages, a little piece of cardboard displaying a full-color picture of Sammy Sosa slips from between the leaves.

“Andrew, look. Your baseball card was right in your school book. It wasn’t even lost.”

I feel more irritated than I should be, but I know I’m irritated with Mom and with T-

Not with him. It just spills out on him.

That’s not fair.

“I thought it was lost…” he whispers, looking at his feet instead of at me, and I force myself to chill, letting out a slow sigh as I hand him the baseball card.

“You’ve gotta be neater, Drewy. Okay? I’m not angry. I’m just…”

I start to say “Trying to teach you” but that sounds too much like what Tia Miguelina says to Mom. I switch mid-sentence.

“I just don’t want my little brother to lose his favorite things, you know?”

I pinch his cheek, and he smiles, “Don’t talk like an old lady. It makes you sound like Auntie Lina.”

I scowl and push his forehead with one finger, which makes him laugh way too hard. He hurries to the other side of the room to avoid my fury and then kisses the baseball card for good luck before putting it back in his dresser drawer.

As the drawer slams shut, I hear the front door open and close softly way down the hall, and I know Papi must be home. 

I didn’t think he’d be back until after me and Drew were already in bed.

For some reason, I don’t want to run to the door and greet him the way I usually do, but Andrew is already halfway down the hall yelling “Daddy’s home!” at the top of his lungs before I even hear Papi lock the front door.

“How is my little soldier?” I hear Papi laugh as I make my way slowly into the front room, “Have you been looking out for my princess while I was away?”

“Yeah!” Andrew nods seriously before practically climbing up Papi’s legs and squirming into his arms. Andrew rubs his face against Papi’s scratchy beard like a nuzzling little cat then points at me with one short finger, “The princess is right here.”

“You two look like twins today,” Papi laughs, putting his rough hand on my head as I bury my face in his shirt. “Did you dress matching on purpose?”

“We thought it would be funny,” Andrew giggles. “Licita wore red so I wore red too.”

“You look cute in red,” Papi smiles, gently working the tangles out of Andrew’s hair. “Like Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy.”

“Oh yeah!” Andrew laughs, “I’m Raggedy Andrew. But Licita is Raggedy Alicia.”

“Or Raggedy Alta Gracia,” I smile just a tiny bit and Papi’s mouth opens like he’s going to say something else.

But then he sees Mami standing in the doorway with her hands in her apron pockets, that almost timid look shining out from her big eyes, like a frightened deer.

All the laughter falls away from Papi’s lips, but he doesn’t know what to say as Mami smiles faintly.

“Did you have a good drive?”

“Si,” Papi nods slowly.

“How is Bella?”

“Fine,” Papi says quickly, barely answering the question as Andrew slips down from his arms and goes to hug Mami around her legs.

“You’ve been baking?” Papi asks, taking Mami’s chin in his scratchy hand and leaving a smudge in the thin layer of flour coating her cheeks.

“I thought I should make you a special welcome back dinner,” she whispers under her breath, the same way Andrew does when he doesn’t want to answer a question.

“You’ve been crying.”

“I hate cutting onions,” she laughs, but the laugh is kind of half-hearted, and it trails off quickly as she wipes her eyes with her wrists.

“You didn’t have to make me something special,” Daddy shakes his head, kissing her lightly, before slipping past her and into the kitchen for a cup of water.

Mommy doesn’t move from the doorway, keeping her head lowered, her hands in her pockets, talking to the floor.

“Shouldn’t a good wife make nice things for her husband? To make his home…somewhere he’ll want to come back to?”

Papi laughs as he opens the fridge and pours himself a glass of icy cold water, “Wherever my pretty wife and my sweet babies are, I want to be. The things can go wherever they like. I don’t care.”

He taps Mami’s cheek lightly with a teasing smile and then drinks the whole glass of water in three gulps. As he drinks, I see Andrew squeeze past Mami to try to get a glass of water for himself, but Mami stops him, slipping something into his hand from her apron pocket.

“So what did you bring yourself to tears making for us, eh?” Papi asks as he sets his cup down and looks around the kitchen.

The dough that had been sitting on the table has disappeared into who knows where or what, and all the pots on the stove are turned off, so I’m at a loss, and Mami almost looks like she’s forgotten she was cooking at all. She holds her mouth and eyes open like a fish for 5 seconds before she answers, “Oh, I made that tamale pie thing you liked from the restaurant on Northside and some oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.”

“You shouldn’t have told me you made cookies, or I won’t want to eat my dinner,” Papi laughs, sticking both his hands in Mami’s dark hair, so she’ll look at him. 

When she does, his smile seems to get warmer, if that’s possible, and he shakes his head. “But thank you, Querida. I’m grateful.”

Then he turns back to Andrew and me and crosses his arms. “So, since your mother went through so much effort we should eat now, eh? Papi’s been dying to eat something sweet. Your auntie says I’m getting fat, and she wouldn’t let me eat any sugar. I almost died.”

“Bella is a taskmaster,” Mami laughs, sincerely this time, though still a little sadly, as she wipes her face with the back of her hand.

“Go wash your hands, soldier,” Papi ruffles Andrew’s hair, “Then we’ll-”

He stops suddenly and tilts his head slightly to the left as he notices the tiny little samurai action figure in Andrew’s hand.

“What’s that you have there, mi hijo?” Papi asks, a little bewildered. “A new toy? From Anthony?”

“Mommy gave it to me,” Andrew smiles brightly.

“And where did Mami get it from?” Papi asks, raising his eyebrows at Andrew, but looking at Mami out of the corner of his eye.

Mami hesitates for a minute, before answering.

“Miguelina brought it. She said the babies should have toys.”

“The babies have toys,” Papi says very quietly. His voice doesn’t seem angry, but I still don’t like the way it sounds. 

He stands still for a very long time with his hand on Andrew’s hair before he asks, “Did, Licita get a new toy too?”

Mami looks from Papi to me, and then back at Papi.

“Miguelina offered her one but she wouldn’t take it. Wouldn’t take the candy either because it ‘wasn’t from daddy.’” Suddenly Mami looks almost angry, as she pushes her hair back, squinting in Papi’s direction. “I hope you're happy with that girl. Ungrateful and proud.”

Daddy looks at me, and I fix the droopy sleeve of my stretched-out tee shirt. I can’t tell if he’s happy with me or upset, so I just raise my chin as he looks me over.

Finally, he puts his hand on my head, but he doesn’t smile.

“Of course, I’m happy with her. Why wouldn’t I be happy with mi corazones?”

That’s when he reached into his bag and pulled out the little watercolor paint set, which he plopped into my hands, before looking back up at Mami with a tilt of his head and a raise of his eyebrows that somehow made him look twice as tall as usual.

“I bought this for me and my little princess to share, so fortunately, she doesn’t have to miss out on getting a gift.”

Mommy rolls her eyes, motioning to the paint set, “Paint is not a toy, Jose Maria. You have no idea what little girls like. She should have dolls and-”

“Mami,” I tug on Mami’s dress lightly to get her attention, and she stops short in her rant as I smile up at her sincerely, “I don’t want any dolls. I like the paint set. Thank you, Papi.” 

I smile over at him, but he almost looks like he’s going to cry as I make myself laugh, “I promise I won’t waste all the paints. But you’ll have to teach me how to paint flowers the way you do, okay?”