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    wandering- 3

    “Carmencita? Where are you I need some help getting with the food.” pulling away from her, and I have never been more embarrassed in my whole life.

    She smiles running her hand through her hair, that look of what the hell did she just say flashing across her face? Handing her a bowl, waiting for all the questions that are guaranteed to come flying at me. Fuck why the hell did I ever say we would do this?

    “Mami…oh I missed you.” she pulls me into a quick hug, squeezing me a little too tightly.

    “Hi baby, here take this inside and put it in the oven for twenty minutes. Carlos take those to the back yard, I want to meet this Alehis.” fuck…my mom is weird; she shoves the casserole dish into my hands walking into the house.

    “hey cuz’.” Carlos stumbles his arms full of food, shit I hope they’re all really hungry.

    This sinking feeling of uncertainty washing over me, filling my head with thoughts of…of what we use to be like. Of when we would do something just to piss each other off that maybe Alex doesn’t want to be here. Walking in and it smells like home, the air thick with the smell of food. I can see them from the kitchen, Shane standing next to Alex both looking lost not sure of what to do. No matter what she always looked like that, even after all this time.

    I wonder what she was like with her mom, if they laughed a lot. If they talked for long hours…if she would lecture her about how skinny she is. I want to know if she yelled or screamed at her for leaving her…for abandoning her and I wonder if she knows what tomorrow is.

    “Carmen are you going to come out or what?” she stands there leaning on the railing of the stair case, her eyes darker then before.

    “Uh yeah just putting this in the oven like my mom said to.” I think of her touch, of that picture in the living room.

    “Don’t worry we’re family now…I have to speak with Carmen you are too skinny.” I can mom’s voice as she talks to Alex, looking out and they look like they’ve known each other for ever.

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