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.Finally, Genie speaks.“So, Di.You’re an editor?”I swallow.Suddenly I’m very thirsty.“Yes.I don’t edit anything exciting, though.”She laughs.“I used to be an attorney.Decided to stay home when I had my third child.But now that they’re all teenagers, I’ve been thinking of going back.” She shrugs, crosses her legs.“But I don’t know.Sometimes I think it’s not worth it.I think Dieguito was right to give it up.He’s so much happier now.”What is she talking about? I look to Santiago, who’s visibly angrier than I’ve ever seen, scowling at his sister.I want to say something, but the silent standoff that ensues between them makes me think it’s better to keep quiet.Finally, Santiago slips on his crutches and pushes himself up.“The coffee’s probably ready.Why don’t you help me with it, Genie?” he says in a commanding tone.She smiles at me, clearly not caring that he’s so mad, and follows him to the kitchen.I’m left alone on the couch, thinking again I should just go, but the thought of that big empty house is so depressing I stay, pulling my legs up in lotus position, holding my ankle with one hand, smoothing my fingers over my medal with the other.I hear the opening and closing of cabinets, the clink of mugs, and the rumble of whispers.I lean back and strain my ears, trying to see if I can hear anything they’re saying.“…always do that,” I hear Santiago say, his whisper harsh and angry, as if he’s speaking through clenched teeth.She says something I can’t hear, her voice either too quiet or muffled by the sound of pouring coffee.“Because…then I have to tell her why.” I can make out only about 30 percent of what Santiago says because his voice grows tenser, louder, for a few of the words.But I hear enough to guess that whatever his sister is talking about is only scratching the surface, and Santiago either doesn’t want to—or isn’t ready—to go there with me yet.“She’s not an idiot,” I hear Genie say, followed by the clink of mugs that makes me wonder if she’s stirring sugar into one of them.She lowers her voice some more, perhaps from Santiago’s signal, and I can just make out what she says, filling in the missing words from context.“She has to wonder how you can afford this condo, the car, on a proofreader’s salary.Not to mention those,” she adds, and I wonder what she means.His braces, maybe? He mentioned they were expensive, and they definitely seem like it, but I honestly have no idea how much something like that costs.“I know,” Santiago says, defeated.“I just…” And I almost scream because I can’t make out the rest of what he says.“If you want her to understand you,” Genie says, “you’re going to have to tell her.” She speaks clearly, almost as if she wants me to hear.Ceramic clinking makes me turn my head.Genie is carrying three mugs on a tray, along with a bowl of sugar and a little pitcher of milk.She smiles at me and nudges her head toward the dining table.I get the cue and push myself up, unfolding my legs and walking around the edge of the couch.I notice Santiago’s standing in the kitchen, his face nearly expressionless, his eyes far away, as if he’s in deep thought.I pause, waiting for him.He finally sees me and forces a smile, but there’s a distance in his eyes.Even from here, it’s like staring into a deep well.“Di, how do you like your coffee?” Genie asks me from across the room.She’s laying everything out on the table.When I turn back, I see Santiago heading off toward the hallway.I wonder if I should follow him, but I decide to give him his space and walk to the table, sinking into one of the chairs.“The same as Santiago—milk and two sugars, thanks,” I say.She smiles slyly, nodding as she fixes me a cup.“Don’t worry about him,” she says, spooning sugar into my mug.“He’s angry at me, not you.”I accept the coffee and watch as she preps a second, also with milk and sugar.“What did you mean when you said he ‘gave it up’?”Genie sighs, stirs, and sets the mug in front of one of the other chairs for Santiago.“I think I’ve probably said too much already.”I nod.Taste the coffee.It is a little weak, but it’s good.Genie finally sits; I notice she takes hers black.“You know how it is with siblings,” she adds in explanation.Not really.As an only child, I have no concept of what it must have been like to grow up in a house with five kids.I can’t stand the awkward silence; I wonder if Santiago is ever coming back.The air conditioner turns on, humming.I sip my drink, looking at Genie.“You and Santiago are close?”She smiles nostalgically, nodding.“Yeah.I’ve always looked after him, taken care of him.Especially since…” She shakes her head as if realizing she’s about to say something else Santiago wouldn’t like.I wonder if she means his BMD, but then realize that can’t be it.Obviously, if I’m here, I must already know about it.What else could she mean? Santiago has seemed so transparent, all things considered.Confident and comfortable with himself.He may have a lot more in his closets, so to speak, than I saw while he was sleeping.Genie cradles her mug in both hands and sips, offering a small sigh at my expectant look.“Let’s just say our parents had certain…expectations for us.Especially Diego.A certain…image they wanted him to convey.” She sets her mug down, frowning sadly.I’m almost more confused now than I was before, and I desperately want to press her for more, but I notice she looks up, and when I turn, I see Santiago emerging from the hall.I’m not sure what to do, so I turn back around and grip my coffee mug.The heat feels good on my palms.Genie stands, pats me on the shoulder, and strides up to him, meeting him halfway between the table and the hallway.I turn and see her kiss him on the cheek, then whisper something in his ear.She pulls back, a hand on his arm.Maybe she says something else to him.I don’t know.But she looks back at me and smiles.“It was nice meeting you, Di.” She grabs her purse off the counter, slings it on her shoulder, and exits.I feel stupid sitting at the table alone, so I cross the room to Santiago.He seems…off.I can’t quite say what it is exactly, but the Santiago I know seems to have retreated somewhere.I slip my arms around his waist and hug him, a reassuring squeeze I hope feels as good for him as it does for me.His breathing shifts, his body seems to relax, and I force myself to pull away.“Your sister seems nice.”He smiles wanly.“Can we sit?”I nod and wind my way around the couch again, then hop onto it, curling my feet up.Even though the air is tenser, the mood heavier, I still love watching him move.He sits, then sets his crutches aside, propping them against the couch.He leans back, sighs heavily, eyes closed, before turning his head to offer me a weak smile
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