Page 10 of The Wedding Favor

“Exactly. Your father was supposed to take the car for a new tire, but… well, I went instead.” What she wasn’t saying was that my father had disappeared three days before, leaving his very pregnant wife with a bum tire, a nine-year-old, and a month’s rent missing. “There I was, talking to one of the mechanics. His name was⁠—”

“Carlos.”

“Yes, Carlos. Very nice man. He has five kids, you know.” I did know. Because I heard this story every birthday. “I felt a little pop and then water trickled down my leg. Now, I’d been having some lower back pain since the day before and, looking back, that was probably the start of labor.”

“You think?”

I yelped when she pinched my arm. “Stop the sass. I am your mother, and I have earned the right to tell this story. Carlos was concerned but I waved him off. It would be fine. I’d get in the car and drive myself to the hospital. I was in labor for hours with Mae, you know.”

“I know,” I said smugly. “And she had a big head, too.”

“I almost thought that plan would work but the second, the very second, I sat down in the car, the first contraction hit me like a freight train.”

This was usually the part that came with way too much detail. I rushed to cut in. “And the next thing you know, Carlos was there to catch me.”

“That’s right, honey. You were all pink and squalling. Someone found a clean pair of work overalls to wrap you in.”

“A pretty undignified way into the world.”

“I don’t know,” she murmured, her voice thoughtful. “There was something special about it. You are never one to change your mind. You decide something, you do it. You decided you were going to be born that very minute, and that was that.”

“Good thing I make excellent choices.”

My mother hummed. “Mostly.”

I sat up slowly. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” she said.

“Well, good, because⁠—”

“Except that, you may make your decisions with all the confidence in the world, but even you can get it wrong sometimes. Don’t get so stuck on one thing that you can’t see there might be something better for you.”

More fortune cookie wisdom. Twice in one day.

“Where is this coming from?”

She patted my cheek gently. “Just being your mom.”

“You’re being weird.”

“I am not. I am imparting excellent life advice right now.”

“So, so weird.”

“Oh, before I forget. When I saw your car, I called Ali and got her brother’s phone number since he’s a mechanic. You know, I remember him from when he was a teenager. He was always a sweet kid. It’s a shame that he and his father had a rough go of it. Sad when he left. I don’t think that family ever got over it. Well, I called him and told him your car was having trouble, and he said he’d stop by tomorrow to take a look. I gave him your number.”

“Abe Ramos? You called him? I could have taken care of it,” I grumbled.

“He didn’t seem to mind and it’s good for him, you know. He’s going to need clients when that shop opens.”

I nibbled the inside of my cheek. Between my closet freakout and my car, Abe was going to think I was one of those high maintenance, emotional women who needed someone to change a lightbulb.

“This is where you say, ‘Thank you, Mommy. You’re the best.’”

“Thank you, Mommy. You’re the best.”

She grinned and stood. “I’m headed for bed. A postcard came for you. It’s on the counter.” She paused and gave me one last, long look. “Sleep tight, little one.”