Perfect Chemistry

If I keep looking at her long legs I’m gonna have an accident. “How’s that sister of yours?” I ask, changing the subject.

“She’s waiting to beat you again at checkers.”

“Is that right? Well, tell her I was goin’ easy on her. I was tryin’ to impress you.”

“By losing?”

I shrug. “It worked, didn’t it?”

I notice her fidgeting with her dress as if she needs to fix it to impress me. Wanting to ease her anxiety, I slide my fingers down her arm before capturing her hand in mine.

“You tell Shelley I’ll be back for a rematch,” I say.

She turns to me, her blue eyes sparkling. “Really?”

“Absolutely.”

During the drive, I try and make small talk. It doesn’t work. I’m not a small talk kind of guy. It’s a good thing Brittany seems content without talking.

Before long I park in front of a small, two-story brick house.

“Isn’t the wedding at a church?”

“Not for Elena. She wanted to get married at her parents’ house.”

I rest my hand on the small of her back as we walk up to the house. Don’t ask me why I feel a need to claim her as mine. Maybe deep down I am a Neanderthal.

When we enter the house, Mariachi music blares from the backyard and people fill up almost every inch of space. I check out Brittany’s reaction, wondering if she feels like she’s been magically transported to Mexico. My family doesn’t live in big houses with swimming pools like she’s used to.

Enrique and a bunch of my other cousins yell greetings to us. They all speak Spanish, which would seem normal except that my date only speaks English. I’m used to being kissed to death by my aunts and given hearty slaps on the backs by my uncles. I’m not sure she is, though. I nudge Brittany closer to me as a sign that I haven’t forgotten her, and attempt to introduce her to my family but give up when I realize there’s no way she’ll remember all their names.

“¡Ese!” comes a voice from behind us.

I turn to Paco. “What’s up?” I say, slapping my friend on the back. “Brittany, I’m sure you’ve seen mi mejor amigo around school. Don’t worry, he knows not to tell anyone he saw you here.”

“My lips are sealed,” he says, then like a dork pretends to lock his mouth and toss the key away.

“Hi, Paco,” she says, laughing.

Jorge sidles up to us, wearing a white tuxedo and a red rose in his lapel.

I slap my cousin-to-be on the back. “Yo, man, you really do clean up nice.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself. You gonna introduce me to your friend, or not?”

“Brittany, this is Jorge. He’s the poor guy . . . I mean, lucky guy, marrying my cousin Elena.”

Jorge hugs her. “Any friend of Alex’s is a friend of ours.”

“Where’s the bride?” Paco asks.

“She’s upstairs in her parents’ bedroom, crying.”

“From happiness?” I guess.

“No, man. I went in there to give her a kiss and now she’s thinkin’ of callin’ it off, says it’s bad luck to see the groom before the wedding,” Jorge adds, shrugging.

“Good luck,” I say. “Elena is superstitious. She’ll probably make you do some crazy shit to make the bad luck go away.”

As Paco and Jorge contemplate what Elena will make him do to erase the bad luck, I take Brittany’s hand and lead her outside. A live band is playing. Even though we’re pochos, we definitely keep our traditions and culture close. Our food is spicy, our families are big and close, and we like to dance to music that makes our bodies move.

“Is Paco your cousin?” Brittany asks.

“No, he just likes to think he is. Carlos, this is Brittany,” I say when we reach my brother.

“Yeah, I know,” Carlos says. “Remember I saw you two swapping spit.”

Brittany is stunned into silence.

“Watch your mouth,” I say, slapping Carlos on the back of the head.

Brittany puts her hand on my chest. “It’s okay, Alex. You don’t have to protect me from everyone.”

Carlos takes on a cocky stance. “That’s right, bro. You don’t have to protect her. Well, maybe except from Mamá.”

That’s it. I exchange heated words with Carlos in Spanish so Brittany can’t understand. “Vete, cabrón no molestes.” Is he trying to make my date have a shitty time? With a huff, Carlos heads for the food.

“Where’s your other brother?” Brittany asks.

We sit at one of the many small rented tables in the middle of the yard. I drape my arm over the back of her chair.

“Luis is right there.” I point to the corner of the yard, where my little brother is the center of attention doing imitations of barnyard animals. I have yet to inform him that talent isn’t as much of a chick magnet when you get into junior high.

Brittany’s eyes are focused on my cousin’s four little kids, all under the age of seven, running around. Two-year-old Marissa has decided her dress isn’t comfortable and has tossed it in the corner of the yard.

“They probably all look like a bunch of rowdy mojados to you.”

She smiles. “No. They look like a bunch of people having fun at an outdoor wedding. Who’s that?” she asks as a guy in a U.S. military uniform walks past us. “Another cousin?”

“Yep. Paul just came back from the Middle East. Believe it or not, he used to be in the Python Trio, a Chicago gang. Man, before the Marines he was really fucked up with drugs.”

She flashes me a look.

“I told you before, I don’t mess with drugs. Not anymore, at least,” I say firmly, wanting her to believe me. “Or deal them.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah,” I say, remembering at the beach when I got fucked up with Carmen. That was the last time. “No matter what you’ve heard, I stay away from the coca, ’cause that stuff ain’t no joke. Believe it or not, I’d like to keep all the brain cells I was born with.”

“What about Paco?” she asks. “Does he do drugs?”

“Sometimes.”

She watches Paco, laughing and joking with my family, desperately trying to be a part of it, instead of his own. His ma left a few years ago, leaving him in a crap situation at home with his dad. I don’t blame him for wanting an escape.

My cousin Elena finally appears in a lacy white dress and the wedding starts.

While the vows are recited, I stand behind Brittany and gather her into my arms, holding her snugly. I wonder what she’ll be wearing at her wedding. She’ll probably have professional photographers and videographers capturing the moment for eternity.

“Ahora los declar. Marido y Mujer,” the priest says.

The bride and groom kiss and everyone applauds.

Brittany squeezes my hand.