Rob, who—no joke—is the spitting image of Jeff Bridges in The Big Lebowski, has been her Al-Anon sponsor for as long as I can remember. Julia made it a point to ask a man to assume the responsibility because she was worried Elena would get jealous if she shared her innermost hang-ups with another woman. He’s a lot older, and Elena once told me she thinks it’s because Julia misses having a father figure in her life. I can relate, I replied, but I only said it to piss Elena off. I actually prefer being raised by two strong women.

“You don’t think your mom is drinking again, do you?”

Jesus. “She was super nice to me the other day, so maybe she was drunk?”

“She’s always nice to you.”

I give Julia a look. We both know that’s not true.

“She looks at me like I’m the daughter she never wanted. Like if I had her DNA, I’d be so much better.”

“That’s not true, chiquita.” She takes a deep breath, then adds: “Do you know why we decided that I would be your bio mom?”

“You had better eggs.”

Julia shakes her head. “We were both afraid Elena wouldn’t be able to stay sober for nine months of pregnancy. We weren’t about to risk having a baby with fetal alcohol syndrome.”

I feel my heart sink. It makes me afraid for what our lives could look like if she ever fell off the wagon. If anything would drive her to drink again, it’s the toll of the pandemic.

“Oh” is all I can bring myself to say in response.

The two of us sit in silence for a minute, and then Julia asks if she can lie down with me for a little while. I nod. We lie down on the bed, and I close my eyes while she gently strokes my hair, the same way she did when I was a kid. She once told me it’s what my Abuela Reina used to do for her when she was a little girl fighting bedtime.

“Are we going to be okay?” I ask my mom.

“I hope so,” she says.

I close my eyes, and after a few seconds, I can feel myself falling asleep. Moms, I think, the one remedy for insomnia the internet failed to give.

PARISA

“You have bewitched me. Body and soul.”