a crisp white shirt and checking his phone. I counted eleven times because he was directly across from me and Mom was describing Vanessa’s kitchen remodel in exhausting detail. Vanessa was louder than usual that evening. Not happy loud. Performance loud. She laughed too long. Touched Esteban’s arm twice. He didn’t respond either time. Then Lucía asked a question. Five-year-olds don’t understand which truths adults have agreed not to notice. ” The room went silent. Esteban looked up from his phone. Vanessa’s face changed. Not anger. Not embarrassment. Something underneath both.
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