Insight Who: Dante Ruiz What: An unexpected visit brings forth some truths When: Sunday, June 16th, 7 PM Where: Dante's apartment Rating: PG
The music in the background wasn’t loud. The volume was high enough to be heard, understood, but not so loud that other people who weren’t in the small studio that Dante called home could hear it. Indeed, he had tested the theory out a few times during his time living in the apartment. It had been louder before, and still it couldn’t pierce through the walls or the door. So, when he heard a knock at his door, he didn’t think that the music would be a dead giveaway that he was actually at home. Normally not one to ignore anyone who came to stop by, Dante wasn’t in the mood for chitchat. Not in that moment. Instead, he just continued to stir the pozole that was cooking on the stove, all too willing to let the memories of the visitor on the other end of the door fade away into nothing.
Another knock, this time accompanied by more force. Not enough to sound violent, or threatening, but noticeably stronger. It was quickly followed by an all too familiar voice. “Dante? If you’re home, open the door.”
Even in his childhood home, getting from the kitchen to the front door was hardly a long journey, but in a studio apartment? A half dozen strides and the door was open. Rodrigo stood in front of him, smiling as soon as the door opened, but there was something else in that smile. “Papi? Why… why didn’t you just use your key? You didn’t lose it, did you?”
“No, I still have it.” The elder man pulled it out of his pocket. “Brought it with me, just in case I did need to use it. I just didn’t feel like barging into your house uninvited.”
Dante’s eyebrow rose and he gave a slight scoff, “That hasn’t stopped you in the past, Papi.”
“Es verdad, mijo, es verdad.” Rodrigo could only shrug his shoulders casually. The boy spoke nothing but the truth, after all. “But today’s a little different. I wanted to let you decide if you wanted to see me right now, rather than taking that choice away from you.” Even if he would have been all too willing to make the choice himself, if need be.
Dante looked at his grandfather, saying nothing before turning his head slightly.
“You left the party sooner than I would have expected, Dante. Is everything all right?”
The party was the Father’s Day celebration at the main house. Mother’s Day was a bigger deal, but that didn’t mean that Father’s Day got ignored. Despite the maternal biases, the routine was relatively the same. Church, a visit to the cemetery to pay respects to Rey, then back to the house for a celebration. And, just like the month before, Dante was quick to switch out of his suit to something more casual almost as soon as he could. Despite the fact that he looked good in a suit, it was starting to feel heavier and heavier on him as his faith eroded. Luckily for him, Ruiz men weren’t known for their love of ties. Hell, only one of his uncles wore one, too. Papi didn’t even do that.
“I…” the phrase ‘I’m fine’ wanted to come out of his mouth, but he looked at his grandfather, who had fully walked into the apartment at that point and closed the door, and found that those words couldn’t come out. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was leaving because I didn’t want to be there…”
“Did you want to be there?”
The question surprised Dante, if only because he was hoping to have to avoid answering it. “Yes. Of course. But it just…” he sighed. “it got hard to be there…”
“Did one of your Tios say something?”
“What? No, of course not.” They’d outgrown their need to poke that particular wound, mostly because they were all fathers now. “But seeing all of them with their kids didn’t help.”
“Dante…”
“No, Papi. I know that you’re going to try and say something that’ll make me feel better, and I appreciate that. I really do. But the truth is that I’m too old to be feeling the way I’m feeling. I’m kind of ashamed of acting like some hurt kid, but it wasn’t going away, and I didn’t want to be somewhere that made me feel like that, and be around people who I care about that I might have been an ass to just because I was feeling bad. That’s why I left.”
“I see.” Rodrigo leaned against the couch, about a foot away from his grandson, who, at this point, found himself perched on one of the armrests. “I know that today’s not exactly your favorite day, but it seems like this year was harder than most. Why?”
Dante shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve thought about looking for him or anything like that.”
“You could, though. If you wanted to. The internet makes it so much easier now than before.” That sentence made him feel like he was tech savvy, which was pretty far from the truth. Rodrigo wasn’t sure if he liked how that made him feel. Luckily, his concern for his grandson was able to take priority.
“It works both ways, Papi. It’s easier for him, too. You guys never moved. Mom didn’t change her name. Like, I get if he doesn’t know what my name is, of if he had a son or a daughter… but everyone else is pretty damned easy to find, and if he doesn’t care enough about the kid that he knew he was going to have to look them up after twenty six years, I don’t see why I should put any effort into getting to know him.”
“He’s missing out.”
“You’ve got a pretty biased opinion.”
“That might be true, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t also be honest about what I see. What, you think that blunt honesty that you have didn’t come from somewhere?”
Although Dante’s smile was genuine in that moment, it was still shallow. Yes, it was nice to get affirmation from someone, a father figure, that he was someone who was worth having in their life. And while Imelda may have been the person that Dante tried to appease the most in life, Rodrigo wasn’t that far behind. Still, Dante may have outgrown being the type of person who wondered about who his father was on a regular basis. He may have stopped being someone who looked for approval from a phantom. All of that may have been true, but he was still someone who grew up without a father. And while he could spend the day celebrating those men in his life who had done their part to fill the gap, said gap was still apparent. Rodrigo’s words dulled the sting, but the sting lingered.
“You could have told me at the house, you know?” Rodrigo stated.
“I didn’t want to bring the mood down. Everyone else was having a good time. And I was glad they were.”
“I just don’t like that you had to feel like that.”
“Me either, but there isn’t much that we can do about it.”
Rodrigo lowered his eyes. He and Imelda had made the choice of raising Dante with the knowledge that they were his grandparents, not trying to pass him off as their own child, which was an option that they had at the time. That was mostly because of Marisa. They figured that letting Marisa act as the big sister to her child might, in turn, allow her to somehow bypass the weight of her actions. Truthfully, they still let her do that, since they were the primary parental figures for Dante growing up. It was one of Rodrigo’s deepest regrets. Now? Now he was confronted with a regret that he had kept from getting too deep into his mind. Making sure that Dante knew who his mother was meant he knew who his father was, too. Hardly an epiphany, almost three decades later. Even the impact of that decision couldn’t be described as a surprise. Now, seeing his grandson impacted by his choices, even hurt by them… nobody liked having their failures flaunted in front of them. It was even harder to have a paternal failure thrown at him on Father’s Day, but if there was blame to be assigned in that moment, only Rodrigo could take ownership of it.
“Dante… this might not mean much to you, but for what it’s worth… I’m sorry.”
“What? Papi, no. You don’t owe me any apologies. I’m not going to lie to you and say that not having a father in my life isn’t something that I’ve had to deal with… but I’m also not going to say that you didn’t do your best to make sure that I had a father figure around. You and my Tios.” The older ones, more precisely. “My life’s not perfect, but I know what it’s like to not have my father around. I wouldn’t be able to handle not having you around, too. And I wouldn’t trade you for him. Never.”
“What if he was rich?”
“Money’s just money.” Sure, money was great, but it wasn’t everything.
There was a silence that filled the room for a long, lingering moment. It was long enough to almost get to the point where it was awkward. Almost. In that silence, Rodrigo could hear the music. Familiar. It was at that point that he was also able to smell the very familiar scent that carried itself through the small studio apartment. “Selena and pozole?”
“I know, right? Stereotypical Mexican stuff. You can stay for some, if you want. I put more hominy than Mami usually does, though.”
“You’ve hated corn since you were a baby. Spit it out the moment we gave it to you. But you love hominy.”
“I’m an enigma.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Rodrigo stood up. “I’ll pass on the meal. I ate a lot at home, and pozole this late will just give me heartburn if I have too much of it. But… maybe just a taste…” he walked over to the stove and picked up the ladle, dipping it into the broth. A small handful of hominy bits, and some chicken, filled in some of the space. Dante wasn’t kidding about the hominy. A small sample swirled in his mouth and Rodrigo let his mind process what he was tasting. “Where’s your chili?”
Dante walked over and pulled the chili powder out of the cabinet above the stove. “Right here. I followed Mami’s recipe…”
“I know. I can taste that. But… the extra hominy is throwing the balance off.” Rodrigo carefully took the powder and started to add more. His eyes watched the concoction with an almost uncharacteristic keenness. “Here, that should be enough now. We’ll just stir it for a little bit and try again.”
“You… sure you didn’t add too much?”
“I know you think that your Mami’s some master chef, and, don’t get me wrong, Imelda’s an amazing cook. If it wasn’t for me owning a gym, I’d probably be a hundred pounds heavier right now. Still, where do you think she got that recipe?” He smirked at his grandson, the glint in his eyes all too apparent. “Mira, try this.”
Without hesitation, Dante took some of the pozole and the shift was instantly noticeable. “You were right. I never knew that you told Mami how to make her pozole.”
“It’s nice to know that I can still surprise you at this age.” Rodrigo put the ladle back down. “Thank you, Dante.”
“I… for… what?”
“Today’s father’s day. And now… I’ve been able to have a special moment with my sons today. All of my sons.”
“Feliz dia de los padres, Papi.” Dante replied, hugging Rodrigo, his eyes catching the full moon as it tried to shine through the waning evening sky.