“Congratulations, Deja,” he said, cutting her off. His voice was bright with excitement, like real excitement, and it made the happiness she’d snuffed out earlier come back to life. “I’m really proud of you. I just wish I was there so we could celebrate together.”

“It’s just three pages,” she said, dipping her head to hide her smile even though there wasn’t anyone else in her apartment.

“There’s no ‘just’ when it comes to your CV, you know that. I know that. Hey, when I’m back, we’ll celebrate your three pages and whatever else you write, okay?”

Deja felt so pathetic because she was on the verge of tears, not just because Alejandro wanted to celebrate with her, or because he knew how important this was, but because he thought she would write more pages. She didn’t know if she believed him, but knowing that he believed in her was everything. She stopped biting her lips shut and let the smile that wanted to form spring fully to life.

“I miss you,” she admitted quietly.

“I miss you, too. So, what are you wearing?” he asked in a playful voice.

“Boy, shut up,” she laughed and stood from her chair to walk out of her office.

“I’m just saying, I have a few minutes. Just in case you wanted to Facetime me or send me a picture or something. For good luck.”

Deja giggled as she walked into her bedroom, the warm feeling in her chest spreading as she pushed her pajama pants over her hips.

Eighteen

Week Four

“I’m not hungry, mami,” Alejandro called through his bedroom door.

“Why not?” she yelled up at him. “You need to eat more.”

Alejandro rolled his eyes. He ate enough. He’d learned in graduate school that sometimes the only thing he could control about his life was what he put in his body and how he treated it, so he tried to eat a healthy diet, he worked out a few times a week, he drank lots of water, and ever since he’d gotten tenure, he made sure that he got as much sleep as possible. He did the best he could.

But still, the minute he’d walked through the front door, his mother had hugged and kissed him and then frowned. “You’re so skinny,” she’d exclaimed.

He wasn’t.

In fact, now that he was past thirty and spent more time sitting at a desk than playing sports with his brothers or working out, he’d gained weight and spent a small fortune last spring getting his favorite suits re-tailored. He knew his mother expressed her emotions through food, and at any other time, he would happily sit at his parents’ old beat-up Formica table and let her feed him all the menudo and tamales she wanted.

But not today. Not right now. He had a date.