Fem by Seth King

Author:Seth King [King, Seth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-05-30T04:00:00+00:00

~

Twenty four hours later I find myself surrounded by Andre’s family. And by his “family,” I mostly mean his aunties. It’s literally an entire room full of women and little female cousins, and then us. He has the most heavily female family I’ve ever seen, which is odd, as he presents as so masculine. (But then again, it does make me understand why he’d be so comfortable having a partner with feminine energy. It’s all he knows.)

Anyway, three or four of them are party girls in their thirties and early forties, all single or separated. The family lives together in a three-bedroom house, Andre included. It’s a bit confusing to me, but the way he explains it to me, Puerto Rican families just sort of collect stragglers as they go along.

He brings me to one of the aunt’s birthday party. The younger aunties love me, dancing with me and gossiping with me and peppering me with questions. But they don’t matter, according to Andre. His oldest aunt and de facto grandmother, Tia Carolina, matters. She is the matriarch, and her approval rules all.

She lurks in the kitchen for a while, stirring a pot of black beans. She’s short and squat, but I can see Andre in her eyes and forehead.

When Andre finally signals for her to come over, she sighs, wipes her hands, and looks over, as if seeing me for the first time.

“You’re Peter?”

I nod. “Nice to meet you. Thank you for having me.”

Her face gets a little softer. She turns to Andre. “What does he do?”

“He’s a writer.”

“Of what?”

“He writes gay f-”

“I write about contemporary social issues,” I interrupt, since I still can’t say “gay fiction” in public. I’m too nervous.

She walks up to me, staring me down in a way I can’t figure out. Finally she takes the spatula in her hand and points it directly at me.

“Have you eaten?”

“Um, yes, actually, Andre and I went to Al’s Pizza, thanks for asking!”

She stares blankly at me. “No. You look skinny. You’ll eat. Come with me.”

She sits me at her sparse table as her three chihuahuas yap at my feet. All along, Andre is beaming at me like I just won the lottery.

“What is it?” I ask when she’s away.

“I always forget that you’ve never been introduced to a Spanish family. She only feeds people she likes. She approves!”

“She does?”

“Yes, but the real test is – how much does she like you? If she gives you a Thanksgiving feast, she’s head over heels. If she throws together some leftovers, that’s cause for worry.”

And when she returns with a plate piled to the sky with rice and beans and pork, he is smiling bigger than I have ever seen him smile before.

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