Page 14 of Yours, For Now

She pulled away from the fabric around my arm. "Thanks, Gabe. I know I'm asking for a lot."

I smiled; she did the same. She closed the offices and we walked out of the building together. I got into my car and asked Josué to drive straight to my parents’ house, my mind cleanly split in two.

Chapter 6

Myparentsboughtthethree storey estate home five years before, at about the same time that the family company had grown from a multinational to a conglomerate. Even though they had residences in several large cosmopolitan cities, this was their home base.

The car slowed down on the long gravel driveway, pointing toward the stone and white stucco structure, the black trim of its windows merging with the night. Most lights seemed to be off, except for the room I knew to be my sister's, and the subdued shine coming through the formal dining room window.

Even after the company reached every expansion goal we'd set for it, and our bank accounts grew beyond our dreams, my parents remained down to earth. The dim light told me that, as usual, they were in the kitchen, putting away the results of whatever my mom had cooked— cazuela or charquicán, maybe. Even though they had a private chef make some of their meals, my mom still liked to make things that reminded her of home.

The four-car garage attached to the home out of sight, at the end of the gravel road extending to the side of the house. Josué parked outside of it, next to the porch connected to the kitchen entrance. The door was unlocked, like I knew it would be. My dad filled up the dishwasher while Mom sat at the kitchen table with a coffee; the chatter I had just caught between them stopped once I crossed the opening.

"Hola, Gabriel." My mom got up from the table and came to me, a smile on her face. She'd said my name in Spanish, which always gave me a feeling of home. "We weren't expecting you, but I'm so happy to see you."

I hugged her, squeezing her close for a couple of seconds. "Yeah, I was hoping to chat about something with you both."

I had thought about this conversation non-stop during the drive home.

She put a hand on my shoulder and the other on my face, and took a good look at me. "Claro. Come sit."

"I'll be there in a sec, but I'm listening." Dad closed the dishwasher and ran it, and focused on cleaning up the sink and other surfaces. "I'm going to make myself a coffee. You want one?"

"Sure." I followed my mom and sat next to her at the breakfast nook. The window overlooked the patio terrace, with plants mostly free to grow naturally rather than manicured. The relaxed style fit my parents much better, despite their wealth.

"¿Qué pasó?" She took a sip of his coffee. "You look like something is bothering you."

"I need your advice."

My dad dried his hands on the kitchen towel and studied my face from across the kitchen island; I let him. When he went to make coffee, I turned back to my mom.

I looked into her big, brown eyes, wrinkles left by her smiles spiking out of the corner of them.

"Something happened to a friend." I'd planned how I'd present this to them carefully. "They're in a shitty situation and I could help them but… helping them could put me in a bad position."

The sound of the coffee machine filled the space as I chose my next words. I wasn't surprised they were mostly silent; they usually let me spill my thoughts and worries before they said anything. What stood out to me was how comfortable this was for me; to just arrive after dinner and interrupt them because I could trust they'd be there to listen. That they'd want to.

Warmth spread through my chest with love for them. Making them proud was important to me for many reasons, a crucial one being that it felt right to thank them for everything they'd done, and everything they still did, this way.

I gulped to soften my emotions, and continued sharing some of the thoughts that had plagued my head for the past hour. "I want to help my friend. I don't like the situation they're in, and the whole thing could help me, too, but… I'd have to go against my integrity."

"Hmm." My mom took another sip of her coffee and continued to study me.

My dad brought my drink and set out to make his own. "Do you have any other options?"

I bit the inside of my lips as I went through the events of the evening again. "I think walking away would make things easier for me, but would make things worse for them."

"And we've raised you to care about how you impact other people." Mom wrapped her hand around my forearm and squeezed.

I drank some of my coffee, its warmth hitting me right in that magical first sip. "Yeah. The situation reminds me of things that are incredibly unfair, and to think I could do something about it and choose not to? I don't like how that feels."

My dad sat down with his coffee to the other side of my mom. "But it also feels bad to do things against your morals."

"Exactly. And if I do it, it could put me at a slight risk… and it would mean lying to you guys, too. For a while."

My voice didn't come out clean as I said that. Even admitting as much settled on my stomach heavy and dense.

Mom and Dad exchanged a look.