The next time I saw Christina was at our Aunt’s house for our regular Sunday carne asadas.

We usually meet at least once or twice a month. But still, the family continued to celebrate the recent wedding without the newlyweds.

The family was divided into various groups, and that night was no different. Starting with the youngest, this group was usually inside the house, doing things they probably shouldn’t be doing. This was their opportunity to cause mayhem while everyone else was outside, distracted.

Outside was a little different; there were the inbetweeners like me—the Cousins who all grew up together and were no longer teetering between the group inside the house and the ones operating the grill.

Our parents and grandparents were the group that did it all: cooking, cleaning, blasting music, playing card games, and making sure everyone was fed. But most importantly, chismando.

Gossiping—not in a malicious way, but more of a retelling of current events about various friends and family members that may or may not be true.

That night, I was moving from group to group like a fly on the wall. Something that came easily to me was checking out each group and seeing what everyone was up to. When I heard my cousin El Moco (don’t judge the nickname, but yeah, his nickname was The Booger.) Only because he clung around his brother like an “annoying booger you can’t get rid of.” That was me repeating why they call him that, not because those are my feelings.

Anyway, he told my cousin Rebecca that David would invite Christina to the carne asada.

Sorry….I know that was a lot.

Now, I wasn’t completely shocked—only because I was the one who told David to do it. But my plan completely backfired because, first off, I didn’t think it would go around so quickly. I thought it would be a pleasant surprise for the family, considering Jessica wasn’t here to dictate anyone’s fun.

Also, I didn’t think he actually went through it.

He never told me what happened after he dropped the phone off at Christina’s rental. The only thing he told me was that we would talk about it at the Asada.

Which he was late to. He was the type who showed up late, left early, and somehow still managed to call himself the life of the party. Typical.