TWENTY-ONE
“I
t didn’t work out.”
Cecilia Alvez looked up from her chopping board, gave her youngest son one look, and raised her arms wide open. The sight drew a sob out of Pio, who rushed to his mother’s side and hugged her tight. He knew the four-hour drive to San Pablo was worth it, if only for the brand of comfort she offered.
“Oh, sweetie.” Her sigh carried a trace of laughter, probably recalling the last time he came to her with a broken heart. “Is this the girl you told me about?”
He nodded.
“What happened?” she asked, pulling her head back so she could study her son’s face.
Pio released her from his embrace and wiped his face with the back of his hand, gaze then falling on the splash of color in front of him. Sliced fruits and vegetables were lined neatly on platters, organ
