Chapter 2 Rafael

The moment Rafael stepped into his parents' home, he felt compelled to dip his fingers into the holy water stoup nailed to the wall. He instinctively made the sign of the cross, a habit ingrained in him by his parents. Above it, a radiant white cross held a golden figure of Jesus Christ.

Rafael removed his shoes and glided across the shiny linoleum floor as he made his way into the kitchen. No one could wear their shoes in his parents' home, only socks or slippers. The aroma of simmering sofrito, a staple in his family's cooking, did little to ease the knot of tension in his stomach. His father, Carmen, sat hunched over the chipped enamel table, engrossed in reading the Mexican newspaper he subscribed to, never once lifting his gaze. His mother, Isabella, stirring a pot with a practiced flick of her wrist, cast him a worried glance.

"Rafe," his mother said, concern lacing her voice. "Sit, mijo. We need to talk about Gabriella."

Rafael sank into the chair opposite his father, the worn leather sighing beneath him. The kitchen, though small, was the heart of their home. The mismatched chairs, the faded floral wallpaper. They all held the warmth of countless meals, shared laughter, and whispered secrets. But tonight, the air felt heavy with something else entirely.

"We saw Gabriella at the Blue Star again today," his father said, slapping the newspaper down. His dark brows furrowed. "Hanging around that Andrew Star boy again."

Rafael could feel the heat slowly creeping up the back of his neck, intensifying with the mention of the man he wanted to claim as his, not in this world, but a different one. Andrew Star. The young man with the easy smile and sexy blue eyes, whose gaze always lingered a beat too long when their eyes met. Rafael guarded his insatiable desire for Andrew fiercely, not even allowing himself to acknowledge it. The same guy he had issued a speeding ticket today. The same guy he had seen his sister flirting with. He wasn't worried. He wasn't sure if Andrew was gay, straight, or bisexual. No one discusses him that way. Girls surround him everywhere, but the way his eyes meet mine tells me another story.

"She's eighteen," Rafael started, forcing a casualness he didn't feel. "It's not like she's doing anything wrong. They're just talking in broad daylight."

"She's flirting with that ba?o, Andrew," Mama interjected. The gold crucifix around her neck glinted in the harsh light.

"He has no respect for the church or the law. And you don't think that's wrong? Have you forgotten how many times you've personally arrested him for his criminal behavior? He's into drugs, alcohol, and changes girls the way men change underwear. I don't want Gabriella hanging around the Blue Star Diner with that hoodlum," his father said, his voice sharp.

Rafael winced. He knew his parents disapproved of the Stars' religion, among other things, a stark contrast to their devout Catholicism. It wasn't fair to judge Andrew based on his family's beliefs. But it wasn't just that. He had been arrested a few too many times. In this small town, everyone knew everyone's business. Andrew Star didn't have a good reputation in the town, but almost everyone loved him . Everyone, except for his parents.

"It's not that big of a deal. He's not a crazy teenager anymore. He's grown up into a decent young man who's co-owner of the diner now," Rafael mumbled, defending Andrew more than Gabriella.

His father slammed his fist on the table, the newspaper scattering. "Don't you start, Rafael! You know what your sister is like. Easily influenced. We can't let her get mixed up with those people."

Rafael clenched his fists under the table. He understood his parents' concern, but their disapproval felt suffocating. He wanted to defend Gabriella, defend Andrew, defend the confusing jumble of feelings he couldn't quite untangle.

"Maybe we should talk to Gabriella," he suggested. "See what she's thinking."

His parents swapped a hesitant glance. It wasn't their preferred approach, but Rafael knew they trusted his connection with his sister. Sighing, his mother nodded.

"Alright," she said. "But you talk to her first. Make her see reason."

Suddenly, the familiar warmth of the kitchen felt stifling. He knew the conversation wouldn't be easy, but for Gabriella, for Andrew, maybe even for himself, he had to try.

Rafael winced. The Blue Star. The epicenter of his own daydreams, not Gabriella's questionable activities. Andrew Star, with his playful expressions and his red Mustang. Just thinking about him sent a flutter through Rafael's stomach, a secret thrill he couldn't share with his family.

Rafael forced himself to focus on Gabriella, pushing down the image of Andrew speeding in his new red car today. "She probably doesn't even know she's doing anything wrong. Half the town hangs out at the diner. Nothing will happen there. It's a public place," he offered, not thinking she had committed a grave sin. They wanted him to be the bad guy. They never failed to spoil the little princess, always ensuring she was treated like royalty.

"Doesn't know? Everyone in this town knows what Andrew is," his father boomed, his voice laced with disapproval. "Catholic girls don't flirt with Baptist boys. That can only lead to trouble."

Rafael gritted his teeth. Their brand of Catholicism felt suffocating sometimes, a constant judgment hanging over his head. He stole a glance at the chipped plaster saint glued to the wall, its painted smile mocking him. "I doubt he even goes to church anymore," he mumbled, the lie bitter on his tongue. "They're probably just friends."

"Friends?" his mother scoffed, leaning forward. "That Star family…troublemakers, the whole lot of them, especially Andrew."

A spark of anger ignited within Rafael. The Stars were good people, kind and hardworking. He knew this firsthand, having spent time after his shift ended at the Blue Star stealing countless looks at Andrew.

"They're not troublemakers, Mama," he said, his voice rising. "They're just different from us."

His parents exchanged a look, a silent conversation passing between them. It felt like they were looking right through him, oblivious to the storm brewing inside.

"Rafael," his father said, his voice firm. "We need you to talk to Gabriella. She listens to you. Remind her of our values, what's expected of a young woman…"

Rafael stood abruptly, the chair scraping harshly against the linoleum floor. "Expected?" he echoed with frustration. "Isn't it about time we just let her be herself? Let her choose her own friends?"

The kitchen fell silent. His parents stared at him, their faces a mixture of hurt and disappointment. Shame welled up inside him, a bitter counterpoint to the anger. He loved his family, he truly did, but in this moment, they felt a million miles away.

"I'll talk to her," he finally conceded, his voice reflecting defeat. He walked out of the kitchen, the weight of their expectations heavy on his shoulders. Stepping out into the cool evening air, he couldn't help but wonder if there was any room for him, or his own secret desires, within the walls of his family's faith.

Rafael set off for his own home in Foggy Basin. The journey was a solitary one, a path he had traveled many times, each turn and hill bringing him closer to the sanctuary he called home. His residence stood proudly in the misty town, its exterior a testament to his meticulous care. The garden was a riot of colors, with flowers blooming in disciplined rows, their petals unfurling in perfect symmetry.

Upon entering his orderly home, the shrill ring of his phone sliced through the silence. It was Caleb, his voice bubbling with excitement. "Hey, Rafe! There's a party happening Friday night, a few towns over. It's a casual thing, just a bunch of guys hanging out. You should come!"

Rafe's interest was piqued. "Oh? What's the occasion?"

"Just a gay mixer, you know, for singles. It's Friday, and I thought it'd be fun to check it out. Wear something chill, nothing fancy," Caleb explained.

Rafael chuckled. "Sounds like an adventure. Count me in."

"Awesome! I'll text you the address. See you there, man," Caleb said before ending the call.

After taking a refreshing shower, he slipped into a comfortable pair of jeans and a casual T-shirt. He looked into the mirror to make sure everything was in place, especially his hair, which was professionally styled in the city.

Rafael moved to the kitchen and pulled out a piece of colored notepaper from a drawer. He copied the title of the party and the address Caleb had texted from his phone, then stuffed it inside his pocket. He had grand plans for this party, hoping to create an unforgettable experience with one particular person.

Address secured, Rafael made his way to the Blue Star to discuss Gabriella with Andrew, but more honestly to get close to Andrew. He slid into a booth and pulled the piece of paper with the address from his pocket. As Andrew approached with a smile, he let the piece of paper slip from his hand and land on the floor. Pick up the paper. He wondered how Andrew would react to the news of a gay party . The intensity of those piercing blue eyes always left him feeling a mix of excitement and vulnerability. His skin felt like it was on fire, as if he was standing directly under the blazing sun. That was what Andrew did to him.

"Hey, Rafael. Dropping breadcrumbs for a treasure hunt?" Andrew teased, eyeing the piece of paper.

Rafael sighed, his mood improving. "I found it in this booth. I think it's for a party. But listen, I need to talk to you about my sister. My parents…they're giving her a hard time. They don't want her around the diner anymore."

Andrew's expression softened. "I heard about that from Miss Amelia. But you know Gabriella is always welcome here. And this is," he picked up the paper with the party address, skimming it, "a gay mixer, huh? You going?"

"No. I'm not gay," Rafael lied, a small smile returning to his face. He wasn't sure, but Andrew looked interested. He definitely read the information. Hope he goes.

"Tell your sister not to worry. We're all family here," Andrew reassured him, then moved on to tend to the other patrons, still clutching the paper.