Chapter One
"I'm thankful for Mommy and Mama and Benji and Jorge. I'm also thankful for my pet fish and for my dog Kenny."
"That's perfect sweetie," I say, smiling at my daughter over our thanksgiving meal.
"I'm thankful for hot glue and glitter so I can make so many pictures for Mommy. I'm thankful for hot Cheetos even though they sometimes make my tummy hurt and then I have to go potty for a long time-"
"Mama!" My oldest son interrupts her, "I'm trying to eat!"
Mila, my daughter, looks at her brother and pouts her bottom lip. "I take it back, I'm not thankful for Benji."
My wife puts her hand over our daughters, "That's not very nice of you to say, Mila."
Mila crosses her arms over her chest and slumps back into her chair. "Sorry, Benji."
"It's fine," he says, "But Mom, can we please eat now?"
Brittany laughs. "Dig in!"
Our youngest son Jorge immediately shoves his hand into his mashed potatoes and smears them over his mouth. Mila bursts out laughing, and so does Brittany.
"Somebody was hungry," she coos as she wipes the baby's mouth. Brittany starts to feed Jorge, I gently take the spoon from her hand.
"I got it," I say with a smile, "You eat."
"Thanks, Santana," Brittany says. She takes a bite of her turkey and grins at our family.
Two hours later, the kids are bathed and in their beds. I lay on the couch in sweatpants and a sports bra. Every few minutes I look up from my phone to listen for Brittany's footsteps. It's a big house, and her favorite habit is sneaking up on me.
"Boo," a soft voice exclaims from behind the couch. I laugh as my wife climbs on top of me and wraps her arms around my waist. I bury my head into her blonde hair and inhale her sweet scent.
"Happy thanksgiving Santana," she mumbles into my shoulder.
"Happy thanksgiving Britt," I respond, playing with a strand of her hair. Brittany adjusts herself so she can look at me.
"You know, we never got to say what we're thankful for," she quips, her face in a serious frown.
"You're right," I say. "We didn't. I'll go first."
Brittany's frown turns into a grin as she wiggles to get closer to me. I place a loving hand on her back and start, "I'm thankful for my kids. I'm thankful for our jobs so we can buy this nice house and provide many opportunities for our family. I'm thankful for Kenny, and for Mila's fish even though I think it's going to die soon."
Brittany nibbles at my chin and my stomach flips. "Are you forgetting something?" she whimpers.
I smirk. "Let me finish, mi amor. I'm most thankful for the smartest, most beautiful, hilarious, loving woman in the world. And I'm thankful that she is my wife."
Brittany kisses me, and I feel her smile. I place a hand on the back of her head, hoping to deepen the kiss, but she pulls away.
"My turn," she giggles. "I'm thankful for Ben and Mila and Jorge and Kenny and the fish. I'm thankful for the dinner we had tonight, and I'm thankful for you Santana. Because you're just the best."
Instead of kissing her, I wrap my arms around my wife and pull her into a hug that says everything words can't. "Te amo," I whisper in her ear.
"I love you too-"
Ring ring
I groan as Brittany and I relax a tight hug. "I'll get it."
I roll off the couch and Brittany gives my ass a little pat as I walk by. I smirk at her as I pick up the phone.
"Hello? Lopez-Pierce residence, Santana Lopez-Peirce speaking."
I watch Brittany on the couch as I speak, but my attention is grabbed when I hear the voice on the other side of the phone.
"Hola Santana," the voice says.
"Andres?" I exclaim. My brother never calls me, not even on holidays. I hate to say it but my family isn't the closest. There is silence on the other end of the line. "Andres? Why are you calling me?"
"I-I don't even know how to say this."
"Say what? What's going on?"
Brittany looks up from her phone in alarm. She can sense something is wrong too.
"It's dad, he had a heart attack."
My stomach drops to my feet, and my legs start to wobble. "What?" I whisper feebly.
"He was taken to the hospital, but I don't think he's going to make it."
I don't think he's going to make it.
The words echo around my head. Andres keeps talking, but I can't hear him. All I can think about was how my daddy just died on his favorite holiday.
"Mom is a mess, I'm bringing my family down to Lima as soon as we can get there. I hope to see you there."
I'm leaning against the wall. My legs feel like jello. I must look like a mess because Brittany rushes to my side and grabs hold of my waist to keep me steady.
"Bye Andres," I mumble and hang up the phone. I turn my head slowly to look at my wife's beautiful blue eyes. They search my face for any clue of what to do.
"Hold me," I whisper as I dissociate completely and collapse. I feel her strong arms carry me up the staircase and place me in our bed. Blankets cover my shoulders and the lights are turned off. I hear Brittany slip out of the bedroom, and go downstairs. A few minutes later, she returns and she's crying. She must have gone to figure out what happened herself.
Brittany climbs into bed and wraps herself around me. "I'm so sorry baby," she says, "I'm so so sorry."
I squeeze my eyes shut and drift off into a shallow sleep.
The next morning, I wake up and stretch my legs. I feel Brittany's arms around me, wrapped just as tight as the night before.
The night before. All of the memories and emotions hit me like a wave of terror. My dad. Gone.
I gasp and finally, the tears come. Tears and tears and tears. I cry for my father. I cry for my mother, who now will have to live alone. I cry for my brother, and selfishly for myself. We are fatherless. I cry for my children, who now don't have a grandfather. I cry for Mila, whose memory of him will be fuzzy. I cry for Jorge, who will have no memory of my daddy and will never know the man. I cry the hardest for Benji, whose young heart will surely break when he hears the news.
How do you even tell someone something like this?
A hand pulls at my shoulder. "Santana?"
I turn over and grasp my wife tightly. I bury my tears in her stomach, sobbing, begging for the feelings to go away. I feel her stomach shake with every cry.
"Santana, we must keep going," Brittany whispers, rubbing my back with a strong hand.
She's right. No matter how sad I am, I am a mother. I have to get out of bed and be with my children.
"I know," I say, my voice cracking, "Will you tell them? I don't want to tell them, will you tell them?"
"Sit up Santana, I'll tell them."
I push myself into a sitting position and make eye contact with my wife. Her blue eyes are stained with fresh tears. The sight of them pulls me a little bit out of my misery. Brittany takes my puffy face in her hands and pulls me close to her. "I love you Santana Lopez," she says, trying to be strong for me, "And we are going to get through this."
We kiss, but it's not filled with lust. It's filled with sadness and pure love.
Brittany and I walk downstairs, hand in hand. All three of our kids are already in the kitchen. Benji and Mila sit at the counter while Jorge sits happily in his highchair.
Benji turns when he hears us enter. "Morning," he says innocently, "You slept in so I got Jorge out of his crib and made breakfast for us."
As we get closer, Benji's face falls. "Are you guys okay?"
At his words, Mila turns too. "Mama?" she says, looking curiously at my face.
"We have to talk to you kids," Brittany says, squeezing my sweaty hand.
"Just tell us," Benji asks, his teenage temper taking over.
"Your abuelo, Mama's dad… there was… he…"
"What is it, Mom?"
"He passed away last night."
Brittany squeezes my hand again, and I watch my kids' faces. Benji's face crumples, and tears immediately fill his eyes. Mila looks confused.
"What does that mean?" she asks.
"He's gone," I whisper, leaning against Brittany.
"When's he coming back?" Mila asks again, still not understanding. Benji swallows his tears and puts on a face of bravery for all of us.
"He's never coming back Mila, he's gone forever."
My son stands and walks over to Brittany and I. He wraps his arms around the two of us and holds us tightly. Hugs from our fifteen-year-old son are rare. I feel Mila's little arms wrap around my leg, and I place a hand on her head.
"I love you guys," I say.
"I love you too," everyone else mumbles.
After a minute of soaking in each other's presence, we break apart.
"What are we going to do?" Benji asks.
I look around and lift Mila into my arms. "We're going to Lima."