Once their dinner was served, it helped to lessen the talking, so things seemed to settle down, though it wasn’t without its moments. Like when Max spoke with a mouthful of food not bothering to even cover it with his hand or a napkin. Then there was Aida’s snorting at most of Manny the Comedian’s jokes. Romero had begun to count them—five so far. Isabel seemed to be having a good time, but it amazed Romero how he’d never realized just how crude his uncles were. Growing up he thought they were hilarious, just like all his friends did. He couldn’t even imagine having this bunch in the same room with Isabel’s family. Pat would have a field day.

Things got worse when they finished dinner. The belching started. After the third one Romero had had it. “Can you stop that already?”

“Hey, it’s gotta come out one way or another,” Manny said, pounding the side of his fist on his chest. “You pick your poison.”

Jesus.

By the time the night was over and he drove Isabel home, he felt beat up. With all the cringing he’d done; he’d actually got a work out. They got to her apartment and he took her in his arms just outside her door. “Tell me I don’t cuss as much as my uncles do.”

“You do. But,” she added quickly when she saw his jaw drop. “I’ve noticed you haven’t been doing it so much lately.” Then she laughed. “And I totally get now where you got it from.” She cupped his face with her hands. “It doesn’t bother me, but if it bothers you, I can start pointing out when I feel like you’re going into one of your cuss modes. Sometimes I think you really don’t even realize it. Like your uncles, it’s just their natural way of talking.”

“I never noticed how bad it was. When I was younger, it used to piss me off when they got dirty looks from people in public places.”

They walked into her apartment. As usual, Valerie wasn’t home—probably with Alex again. They went straight to her bedroom. He wasn’t spending the night, just saying goodnight. And showing her how much he appreciated that she hadn’t run away after meeting his family.

***

Isabel waited several days to bring up what she was hoping Romero would bring up on his own. They sat on the sofa in his apartment getting ready to watch a movie they’d rented. “Are you ever gonna tell me about your dad?”

Romero looked up from the back of the DVD case he’d been reading and shrugged. “He’s been in jail most of my life. I don’t know much about him, so there’s not much to tell.”

“What’s he in jail for?” She hated talking to him about things that wiped the eternal humor off his face. But this was something she knew had to be important to him even though he didn’t want to admit it. She’d heard it in his voice, seen it in his face the day he snapped at his uncle when he brought up his dad. She wanted him to be able to share not just the good, but the bad with her as well.

“Drugs—first trafficking, then his stupid ass finally gets out and he gets thrown back in just a few months later for possession.”

She took his hand and kissed his knuckles one by one in an attempt to soothe him. He was suddenly so tense. “How long is he in for?”

He sat back. “Lets see.” He counted on his fingers. “Wow, he’s already done five years. So I don’t know, maybe another three or four years if he doesn’t keep f**king up. They almost tacked on another five ‘cause he beat the shit outta someone in there. The guy nearly died. My uncles say it’s what got him in so much trouble growing up. His f**king temper—”

“You’re doing it again.” She rubbed his hand and tilted her head. “Cuss mode.”

“Well then lets not talk about him anymore.” He stood up and walked to the DVD player. “Because I don’t think I can without cussing.”

“Okay, what about your grandma, tell me about her.”

He turned to look at her. The smile was back. Isabel was so relieved. “Oh, she was the bomb. I never knew my mom. From what I’m told she was one of the druggies my dad sold to. So when she had me the state immediately gave custody to my grandmother since my dad was in jail, and she raised me. Well, her and my uncles, but I always felt like my uncles were my much older brothers, especially because they’d get scolded as often as I did.” He laughed. “Believe it or not, she hated it when we cussed. So you know we heard it a lot. But she said my grandpa was worse than all of us. That’s where my uncles got it from.”

After putting the DVD in the machine he walked back, remote in hand and sat down next to Isabel. He filled her in on his childhood with his grandma, laughing all the while. She was glad to hear that her passing wasn’t too excruciating for him. Alzheimer’s took her life when he was in the eleventh grade, while hard, he said it had been more of a relief since she’d been sick for years.

“Manny took it bad. He talks all tough, but the guy’s not afraid to cry.” Romero shook his head. “He was a mess at the funeral.”

To Isabel’s surprise, a smile spread across Romero’s face. “He’s not just emotional about sad things either. He cried at his own wedding,” Romero chuckled. “And most of my graduations or any picture-worthy milestones.”

Isabel thought of her own dad and how cold and indifferent he’d always been. Romero’s uncles weren’t without their flaws but one thing she noticed right away was the way his uncle spoke of Romero. He seemed to rejoice in telling all those stories of him growing up. Each one he told was as if it happened just yesterday. All the funny things Romero had done over the years were still with him and she could almost feel just how much he’d enjoyed them. Even if the stories were mostly of Romero being a knucklehead, he obviously cherished the memories.