Pan Con Pavo

I took a deep inhale from my vape. I was going to need it. I was visiting my family for Thanksgiving, and it was always my least favorite thing to do. I always told myself the day I cut off my family would be the day I would be free, but I never had the heart to do it. I watched my cousin, Magdalena, and her pack of kids fill my tía’s house. I knew my mom was already there, and I hadn’t spoken to her for a couple of months. This was what I was most nervous about.

What I was most excited about was dinner. I love the way my tío cooked the turkey: a salsa of plenty of spices, blended with toasted pumpkin and sesame seeds, that covered the turkey. He would shred it, put the turkey in bollios, and add radishes and watercress. It was my favorite holiday meal, and no one did pan con pavo quite like my tío. I sometimes felt it was the only reason I still came around.

I finally found the courage to ring the doorbell. My cousin, Alexa, answered the door. Alexa and I used to be really close. Growing up, we lived across the street from each other, always having sleepovers and sharing our dreams and hopes, but everything changed when I got into a big fight with my mom and her sister, Magdalena. I just pretended I didn’t notice. I felt bad for her because I could tell she was Magdelena’s punching bag and her parents’ pressure for her to date and have children, but she accepted it, so why shouldn’t I?

When she saw me, she smiled, almost surprised to see me.

“Hey Summer, it’s nice to see you.”

“Long time no see.”

I walked into the house, and we gave each other a brief embrace.

“Is everyone here yet?” I said.

“Yeah, you are the last one to arrive.”

“How have you been?”

“Same old same old, what about you?”

“I’m good, I can’t complain.”

We stared at each other in uncomfortable silence. It was hard to see our relationship deteriorate from outside circumstances, rather than confront it. I said, “Well, I should say hi to everyone.”

“Oh yeah, of course, but we should catch up later on.”

I just gave her a smirk and moved towards the kitchen and living room. Sure enough, everyone was there: my tía, Samantha, my tío Jesus, my mom, a family friend, Julia and her two kids, my cousin Magdelena, and her three kids.

My tía Samantha was the first to greet me. I loved my tía Samantha. I looked up to her in many ways. I loved the way she always decorated for the holidays and kept recipes in a little box, things that I appreciated but was never taught, only observed. I was the only person in the family who felt warm towards her.

She greets me with a hug and says, “It’s been so long, you need to visit more often.”

I don’t say anything, just give her an uncomfortable smirk and then hug my tío.

I approach Julia and Magdelena on the couch. Julia greets me warmly with a side hug, and Magdelena barely acknowledges me.

My mom was sitting at the island bar, and I stood right next to her. She turned away from me so she wouldn’t even catch me in her peripheral vision. I wasn’t expecting a loving greeting because then I would be expecting my mom to be a different person, but I wasn’t expecting a cold shoulder. A tactic I knew she did just to hurt my feelings, but something I grew used to, so I didn’t feel anything at all.

I just sighed and thought to myself, at least I tried, more than she could say herself. I felt uncomfortable, though, more than usual. I always felt like I didn’t fit, whether it was because I wasn’t fluent in Spanish, or because I became a vegetarian at one point, or whatever point they wanted to pick on that week, but this time felt so intentional, the feeling of unbelonging.

My tío announced that dinner was ready, and I grabbed my usual first smothering my bollio with mayo and mustard, securing bollio with romaine lettuce, a small layer of mashed potatoes, then some turkey and lots of curtido on top. We all sat at our designated spots, and before we ate, we took turns saying what we were thankful for.

Most of the responses were very generic: I’m thankful for my family, my new job, or my health. The question came to me, and I took a deep breath.

“I’m thankful for this meal because it’s the only thing keeping me here.”

“Of course, Summer always has to be a drama queen, making everything about her,” responded Magdelena.

“You would know, you are the expert in making things about yourself,” said Alexa.

I took a sip of wine from a glass, and I can’t say I didn’t enjoy the turn of events or that it wasn’t somehow manufactured, but I needed to see the crack for myself or the false sense of foundation.

“You should stay out of it, Alexa, you can’t handle the truth about yourself,” said my mom.

Alexa seemed to tear up, and my tía Samantha snapped at my mom

“Huh, it’s so funny for you to say that when you can’t face the nasty home you live in, bury all your pathetic feelings you have in junk.”

I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Everyone was getting loud and argumentative. Was this who we really were? Or was I being too cynical? All I know is that it felt like it all fell apart too easily. One simple tug unraveled everything.

It felt like the argument would go on forever; it seemed as if everyone had forgotten what had brought it on in the first place. I stepped outside with my tía’s William Sonoma plate and a pan con pavo. I took a bite, savoring the memories of a reality I can no longer avoid, hoping my tía wouldn’t be mad about the