Page 23 of A Curvy Girl’s Hurricane Survival Guide

I try to look interested, but my mind is wandering what Sonny is up to. I feel the need to apologize to him, although I haven’t really insulted him, and it is beginning to nag at me. I haven’t been fair in describing him in comparison to Trevor, and it bothers me even if he hasn’t heard.

That sounds silly. Why should I feel guilty at all? And why do my family’s feelings about Sonny matter?

SONNY

Cai’s family has no aversion to asking for help. They have a way of taking you in and putting you to work, treating you like one of them, for better or worse.

I have spent so much time trying to fit in with others, especially growing up, that it is foreign to me to be taken in so easily by this family. Rey is my guide as we put duct tape on the inside of the windows.

“It doesn’t do anything,” Rey tells me. “The windows are boarded up, and these are double-paned, impact-rated windows. This tape is something they used to do in the old days. Now we do it to make the old-timers feel better.”

The way they all care about their elders is endearing. It makes me wish I knew more about my grandparents or extended family.

My family is large, and there were always so many around. It never felt close, though. My mother, grandmother, and later my sisters spent family time ensuring that everyone understood the sacrifices they made to put food on the table or pay the light bill.

My father had died at war when I was a baby; my mother was a widow, and yet the feeling I got was that he had left her with the kids on her own, as if he’d chosen to die.

As a child, every game I played, every hour I spent, it wasn’t that they were worried about me rotting my brain or not doing better at school; they were upset that I wasn’t pitching in more to help them out. But now, as an adult, it’s all about how they are entitled to part of my wealth, a share in the success, because of our relation but never because of our relationship. They have never even shared what made our family great. They have never even made me feel like part of a team.

My phone keeps buzzing, and although I try to ignore it, Rey eventually suggests I check on the older kids in the den. He also warns me that we’ll likely lose signal if the power goes out, which was almost certain to happen.

I thank him, but before entering the den, I quickly answer some messages. They all start with the sentiment that there is no need to answer right away or that my response is not urgent. Looks like Jake made my request clear.

Ben, my business partner, messages me for one last confirmation.

Ben

You sure you’re good with me calling the shots solo?

Sonny

I am.

Ben

What if I get asked what you’re doing?

Sonny

Tell them I went to see about a girl.

Ben

And if they’ve seen Good Will Hunting?

Sonny

Then tell them I’m in a meeting

In the den are Rey’s two kids, Lucas and Patty, who are fourteen and twelve, and one of Cai’s cousins, Sofia, who is older, probably 16 or so. They are all sprawled out on their phones, unbothered by my presence.

I look around at the shelves and the dusty, stacked board games. There’s a good amount of variety, but it looks like it had been a while since anyone touched them.

“I don’t know why they have them. They only ever play Dominoes.” Patty says, barely looking up from her phone.

“I’ve never played Dominoes. What do you guys do while they play?” I ask.

Lucas rolls his eyes and adds, “I know I should’ve brought my PlayStation.”