30. SIERRA

CHAPTER 30

SIERRA

W ithout a doubt, this has been the best December of my life. First, I get the previously unthinkable gift of a boyfriend. Second, I get the gift of a bonus and a promotion—although, are they really a gift if I worked my ass off for them?

Anyway, third, I get the gift of Grammie coming over for Christmas.

"You look like a kid on Christmas morning, mija," Mom says from the passenger seat of our truck. "Are you that excited?"

"More." I can't stop moving. During the drive from home to the airport I've fiddled with my seatbelt, the window, my phone, my hair—which I've put up in a ponytail and then down again—and my phone again, texting every minutia to Conor and shockingly not making him sick of me yet.

"Good thing I'm the one driving," Dad says with a snort and glances at Mom. "Am I the only one who feels jealous that she doesn't get this excited to see me?"

"No, clearly there are favorites." Mom laughs.

"Oh, please." I huff. "You were the ones who basically decided to redo the guest room and even came up with the idea of installing guardrails in the bathroom."

"Really good idea, mi amor." Mom places her hand on Dad's arm.

"Thank you, I saw it on the ‘Gram."

I don't bother hiding my cringe. "And also, you've been playing guarachas non stop for a week already because it's Grammie's favorite music." It's this old, really fast cousin of salsa with somewhat spicy lyrics that was all the rage during Grammie's youth. It was all well and good except for every time that my parents left me alone to clean, because they needed to have an impromptu dance session in the kitchen.

Cute, but really annoying. I look forward to being that obnoxious with Conor one day.

Speaking of, my phone buzzes in my hand.

Conor the Boyfriend

Did you make it to the airport okay?

Me

Not yet. So close yet so far

Conor the Boyfriend

Don't forget to breathe

I send him a sassy emoji because this isn't the first time he says this. Apparently, when I feel an emotion too strongly, I tend to hold my breath. I wonder if that lack of oxygen flowing to my brain is what has caused me to make bad decisions, such as when I determined that Conor was going to be my enemy. Clearly that was wrong.

But I'm feeling magnanimous today, so I take a few deep breaths and find that I'm fidgeting a lot less. I'm about to text this man about the curious calming power he has on me even when he's not around in person, when I feel the truck slowing down. We're finally entering the airport's parking lot.

Welp, so much for calming down. My heart rate skyrockets.

While Dad finds parking, I check the airport app on my phone and it shows that Grammie's plane hasn't landed yet. That's great, because we definitely want to be waiting for her when she clears security. I'm sure the trip has been exhausting and the language barrier overwhelming.

Unfortunately, that also means that I have to do a lot of pacing back and forth in the terminal as we wait. Mom and Dad have camped right at the travelers' exit, a couple of shopping bags at their feet with all the welcome paraphernalia we prepared. I wish I could be like them and could be excited but calm. Alas.

"Are you sure you want us to come over today?" Conor asks me over the phone. I had to call him, desperate for a distraction.

I officially broke the news to the family last weekend, right after the SPORTY event, and their reactions were so funny. Mom couldn't stop repeating the words I knew it . Dad sat on the couch as if he'd lost all strength and, spent the rest of the day on the exact same spot just staring blankly at the floor. But Grammie's reaction was to say she didn't care about meds or doctor appointments, what she wants out of her visit to the States is to meet my boyfriend.

"El mismo día que llego," she said, folding her bony arms and jutting her chin with stubbornness.

"Yes, it's Grammie's orders," I respond to Conor's question. "You've taken the top spot in her bucket list now."

"Well, okay, no pressure." He jokes at his own expense. "Should I wear normal clothes or a tuxedo?"

"Got a happy in between?" After a moment, I grow more serious. "No, really. I can make up an excuse if this is too early. "

"This is important to your family, so I'll see you in an hour, okay?"

"Yeah, thanks," I say more with air than with voice, because this is the moment I know that this is the man I'll marry.

I had classmates who bullied me for my accent or even because my homemade lunches were completely different from theirs, but Conor doesn't dismiss these cultural differences or gets uncomfortable by them. I only had to explain to him how Latin American families are everything and always there —even if they physically aren't—for him to get it and respect it. I'm sure any other guy would be running for the hills if he had to formally meet his girlfriend's family like just two weeks after getting together.

We finish the call and I'm grinning from ear to ear as I rejoin my parents to really set up the welcome banner and balloons. No matter what scary things the future holds—and they're scary when one of your loved ones is elderly and sick—I know this is a special moment and I'm going to cherish every last second of it.

People start trickling out of the exit wheeling suitcases and carrying bags, but we're watching out for the wheelchairs. Of course, I made sure to book the assistance service for Grammie. She'd break her fast on caviar if she liked the thing and if I could have it my way.

The first sign that Grammie might be in sight comes from Mom, who lets out a squeal. I've been holding a flower bouquet for a few minutes and I lower it from my face, and there she is.

My frail little Grammie waving at us as an airport staff wheels her over.

I don't know who screams her name then, could've been Mom or me. All I know is that I'm bouncing more than I did in that ball pit a few days ago, and there are tears streaming down my eyes. When she's cleared the security area, I take off in a short sprint that ends with me kneeling in front of her and our arms around each other.

"Feliz navidad, Sierrita," she whispers above me and boy, isn't it?

Best. Christmas. Ever.

*

According to Grammie, things have changed drastically since the one time she visited when I was a kid. A strip mall didn't exist where there was an open field before, a bank was replaced by a fast food place, or some houses now used to be a parking lot. We drive by the convention center downtown and she says that one looks just the same, before launching on a tale about how the main market back in her hometown turned into the convention center once supermarkets became a thing decades ago.

I'm riveted more by the fact that she's right next to me, telling tales in person rather than through a screen, than by the tales themselves. My heart twists by the utter glee and sorrow warring in it. It's so hard to love someone this much, yet be mostly separated from them. Tale of an immigrant family, I guess.

Her hand has surprising strength for how slight it is, for the paper thin skin with a network of veins behind it. I think she squeezes mine much harder than the other way around.

She's talking about how pretty snow is, but that dies down as Dad parks the truck by the curb of our house and we spot two figures waiting on our porch.

"The boyfriend," Dad announces in a grouch.

"And the boyfriend's grandfather." My eyes widen. I guess this is going to be a full-on event, huh? Except, unlike last week's, I'm woefully unprepared for this .

We make quick work of getting out of the truck, and while Dad and I focus on helping Grammie out, Mom gets her suitcase from the trunk. The four of us make a slow walk up the shoveled path. I basically keep one eye on Grammie as I hold her by the arm, and another one on my boyfriend.

He's rocking on the balls of his feet, as if nervous.

How flipping cute is that?

Finally, we join them by the porch and for a long, quiet moment, it's like a standoff where everyone is staring at one another.

I'm the one who breaks it.

"Grammie," I say everything in Spanish for her benefit. "Estos son Conor, mi novio, y Conrad, su abuelo. Le dicen Gramps." Then I turn to them and speak in English. "Conor, Gramps, may I have the honor of introducing my favorite family member, Grammie?"

Dad blows a raspberry. "What am I now, the third most important person in your life now?"

"Fourth, honey." Mom pats his arm.

I burst into giggles and that dissipates the weird tension. Shoulders relax and eyes soften, until I translate all that for Grammie and she asks me to send everyone in and stay alone with her for a second.

Uh oh.

Mom and Dad aren't exactly the biggest fans of the cold, so they're happy to oblige. Gramps goes next and Conor hangs on for a moment, observing my expression to gauge if something's wrong. Problem is, I have no idea. After taking the hint, he places a quick kiss on my cheek and goes inside.

Grammie takes both of my hands in hers. "Ese muchacho te hace feliz."

"Sí."

"Y se ve que te quiere."

I nod, that's the most wonderful part of all .

"Y es muy atractivo."

I'm about to nod again when I do a double take. My small, sweet, delicate little grandmother gives me a sly grin.

"Y ahora que he conocido al abuelo, sé que tiene buenos genes."

"Grammie!" I gape.

"Así que está aprobado."

"?Así sin más?"

The quick approval of my boyfriend based on qualifications such as the facts that he makes me happy, likes me, and has good genes, stops being shocking when she explains what we all know: she doesn't have a long time left. This is the reason why this visit was so important, and I'm just glad I get to share this with her at all.

Best Christmas ever , I think, even though I'm crying different tears now.