"All of it. The robotic arm, the programming, the drawings, the sports. Why do you do so many things?"
I thought for a moment. "Because when I moved to this neighborhood, I didn't know who I was. I didn't know what I liked, what I was good at, what I wanted to do. And now..." I paused. "Now I want to try everything. I want to see how far I can go."
"And you're not afraid?"
"Afraid of what?"
"Of not making it. Of trying everything and discovering you're not good at anything."
"That's what basketball taught me," I said. "That you can fail a thousand times and keep trying. Every mistake teaches you something. The important thing isn't making it. It's keeping moving."
She looked at me. In her eyes was something I hadn't seen before. Something that had maybe been there from the beginning.
"You're the one who always says broken things can be more interesting than perfect ones," she said.
"They are."
"Then it doesn't matter if you make it or not. What matters is that you keep trying."
"That's what you taught me."
She smiled. It was a smile that hid nothing.
"Then we're even," she said.
"We're even," I repeated.
And in the quiet of the night, with the streetlights glowing in the distance, I knew I didn't need anything more. I didn't need to be the best. I didn't need to win every game. I only needed to be there, beside her, keeping trying.
Because that was what I had learned in all those months. It wasn't about making it. It was about keeping moving. About keeping growing. About keeping being who you were.
And she, Alex Dunphy, who had come into my life without me seeking her, was the reason I wanted to keep trying.
In the Dunphy Kitchen
Claire was washing dishes when Gloria came in with a tray of cookies no one had asked for.
"Did you see?" Gloria asked without preamble.
"What?"
"Alex. Watching Leo in the bleachers after the game."
Claire stopped washing. "I saw her."
"And what do you think?"
"I think my daughter is growing up. And that scares me."
Gloria set the tray on the table. She sat in a chair, hands in her lap.
"My mother was afraid when I started looking at boys," she said. "She told me to be careful, not to let myself be fooled. That men are like bulls: you have to know when to approach and when to run."
"And what did you do?"
"I ran. I always ran. Until I found Javier." She paused. "And with Javier, I didn't have to run. He stayed still. He waited. And when I was ready, he was there."
Claire looked at her. "Do you think Leo will wait?"
"I think Leo is already waiting. He's been waiting since he came to this neighborhood and sat at the bus stop just to be near her."
"And do you think Alex is ready?"
Gloria smiled. "I think Alex still doesn't know what she wants. But I think she's starting to realize. And when she fully realizes..." She paused. "Well, then it will be beautiful. Or a tragedy."
"Tragedy?"
"In Colombia, we say love is like fire. It can warm you or it can burn you. It all depends on how you handle it."
Claire sighed. "And how do you handle it?"
"You don't handle it. You feel it. You wait. And when the time comes, you act."
They fell silent. From the porch came the sound of two voices talking quietly, laughing occasionally, sharing the night as if nothing else in the world mattered.
"We're going to have to watch out for them," Claire said.
"We already are watching out for them," Gloria replied. "And they're going to be fine. Both of them."
And in the illuminated kitchen, with the sound of Alex and Leo's laughter floating in the night, Claire and Gloria smiled.
Because they knew, as only mothers know, that what was growing between those two was something that didn't need watching. Only time, space, and the certainty that when they were ready, they would be there.
As they always had been.
Saturday, 9:00 AM
Gloria's message arrived at eight in the morning, just as I was finishing breakfast. Well, it wasn't a text. It was a call.
"Leo," she said, her voice with that mix of urgency and warmth only she possessed. "I need you to come today. Manny has a fencing tournament, and I want you there."
"Fencing?" I repeated, confused.
"Yes. My boy is a swordsman. A master of the sword, like his father. Like Zorro." She paused. "But Jay gets very intense about these things. He gets too excited, and I need someone to... to balance things out. To remember this is for Manny, not for him."
"And why me?"
"Because you're calm. You watch before you act. Because Alex listens to you. And because..." She paused again. "Because Manny respects you. Ever since I saw you so active and disciplined, even more so when you made that basket in the game the other day. He trusts you."
I didn't know what to say. In the months I had spent in the neighborhood, and the few times I had been around Manny, I had never thought Manny noticed me. That someone like him, with his world of poetry and strategy games, could see me as anything more than "Alex's friend."
"I'll be there," I said.
"Good boy," Gloria replied. And hung up.
The fencing club was in an old building with tall windows and the smell of waxed wood that reminded me of the libraries from my previous life.
When I arrived, the family was already settled in the bleachers. Phil had a video camera that looked like it was from the eighties. Claire was beside him, arms crossed, with an expression of contained worry. Haley was at one end, phone in hand, pretending boredom. Luke was between them with a bag of potato chips and wide eyes.
And Alex was at the end of the row, a book on her lap she wasn't reading.
She saw me arrive, made space beside her, and I sat down without saying anything.
"Gloria called you," she said. It wasn't a question.
"She wanted me to come."
"She likes you. You're her project now."
"Her project?"
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Gloria said Leo was going to be a good man.
Claire said that scared her.
And Manny was getting ready for his fencing tournament. With a sword and a poem in his head.
What's more dangerous? The fire of love or Claire's fire extinguisher? ⚔️🔥🧯
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