Chapter Twenty-One
Max
We ate our dinner in silence. Aunt Regina made enchiladas, and while I was sure they were tasty, everything tasted like sand to me. Mom read the paper, while my aunt read a Catholic newsletter in Spanish. When I was through with half my plate, I pushed it to the side, and gazed at the two women across from me.
“Regina, dinner was delicious. Gracias.” Mom murmured, then grabbed her empty plate and stood up. “Maximo, are you going to finish your dinner?”
“No, sorry, I’m not very hungry. I’ll wrap it up and eat it for lunch tomorrow.” I mumbled. “It tasted good, Aunt Regina.”
My aunt grunted, then she resumed reading, her finger slowly crossing the page while she mouthed the words silently.
Mom walked into the kitchen, and I heard the water turned on so she could
