Around the house where I had opened my eyes and walked my first steps, shone a special aurora. Maybe due to the fact of his old origin, to the archeological location of the city, or maybe just because it was my childhood house where I let go of the last bits of my innocence. Either way, confident I am, the mysterious force pulling me here to visit again, to come back, no matter how far I go…filling my soul.

Unexpectedly, for the first time in years, the twelve members of the McCarthy family graced the periphery of the dinner table.

As much as it felt strange, as much as made me ecstatic. Before, only the death of my grandfather managed to gather us.

We were eating in such an intimate, lost atmosphere…Dated back to the days of my youth. For the sorrow of life, only my grandfather was missing.

Exchanging the greeting, asking for far placed dishes. Laughing about trivial jokes. The blessings of this dinner gathering will stay with me until the end of my life.

I settled in my old place, next to my grandmother and near the seat of the family's head, which now is my father's. He was indulging himself in a long and detailed scolding of my stupid and selfish behavior, of course, from his standpoint. I won't say that he was totally wrong…

¨From now on you must keep in contact with us, at least with one of your brothers or your sister. And you must inform me before you come back as well.¨ The last sentence of my father's exhaustive scolding. And the sole part that mastered the thick walls of my defense. Certainly for the excessive repetition.
From the moment his eyes seized me, I swear, he had chewed those words to the point of dullness. My old self will surely make a big faze, but now I understand that this was his way to say indirectly that he was worried about my well-being. How much I missed the extravagant pain of concern after the brutality of the outside world tattooed my fair skin with iron fangs. However, this orchestra has yet to be finished. And the flame handed to my mother to continue the long path:

"From now on I won't accept this careless behavior, I comprehend that you are a capable person who knows how to protect himself, yet wolves always survive in a pack."

Another set of metaphors, the boredom groaned my nerves, yet I listened, those blame were needed, I deserved them. However, I kept the fact that I was in contact with my sister a secret and I made her promise me to keep it a secret from all of my family. Thank you, dear sister, for respecting my selfish wish. I admit that I made you hold a heavy responsibility.

 From over the table, I hooked my gaze with her, spending a subtle signal as thanks, and she smiled back at me in the same concealed manner as a response. After a few spoons in her mouth, she tried to help me to change the subject by asking about my studies: "How is college? Kieran."

My father butted in  before I could answer: "I hope you didn't drop out…"

I responded with a calm nerve, something new I had developed to confront, not just my father's sarcastic tone: "No, I am a senior now. Actually, I got a few recommendations from my professors. Even more, I was accepted into a firm for an internship."

Preying to check the face of each member around the table. A smug smirk colored my lips.  Their reaction topped a priceless gift. A moment I wished for long enough. It was worth the wait, especially my father and older brothers, my sister too. I hadn't told her this happy news.

My father's stupefied lineaments, while trying to hold his astonishment, tickled the shallow egoism in my chest. I watched him as he proceeded to continue the conversation in a failed attempt to conceal his joy: "Which firm?"

"Clangor law group."

"Is it official?"

"Yes."

"Excellent."

Was it a compliment? My jaw dislocated. The blow hit hard.

A compliment from my father? A very straightforward one. I must check if the sky had fallen on the earth, or in her place still.

There were a lot of moments when I felt it was okay to die now. Most of them were out of embarrassment, rarely those for joy, and this is one of them.

"Any girl in your life?" My sister Evelyn asked again, her voice mixed with the glee for my triumph and the irritation over hiding this matter. Yet here she goes again, trying to help me introduce my girlfriend. Was it the superior intuition women are proud of? I shifted my eyes to my mother timidly looked at her, in a low voice I answered:

"Yes."

                                               ****             ****                ****

In the living room, in that kind of warm evening, we gathered after dinner.

My mother actively supervised the girls in clearing up the table, organizing the leftover. My grandmother retreated to her room.

Next to my father and Alfred, my eldest brother, I squeezed myself on the big sofa. Everyone free at the moment joined in. Like an ancient folk, we recited the trivial life events; how much I missed these assemblies, always loved to listen to other stories and their experience in life and learn from their mistakes.

Also, I wanted to learn all about things and changes that happened during my absence,

All kinds of topics made their way to this conversation, especially about me, as I was the guest of honor, the surprise of the new year: my study, my girlfriend, my brothers' worries and occupations, my sister's fiance, my grandmother's health and all the rumors And the truths about the famous and rich people that lived around here.

Perhaps the most important matter that we have talked about was the Olvera family and their famous son; August Olvera.  
Faking disinterested, I commented: "August Olvera! Ah, yes, I know him. We are on the same campus."

"Well, he is very famous and multi-talented. I believe he speaks several languages, and he is majoring in ancient history or something like that…."
Whenever my father compliments someone in front of me, I feel like he was accusing me of failure. I did not know why….

I tried to disregard this emotion and followed my father's speech, confirming and denying some of the things he said for facts:" That's right, he knows several languages, precisely four. But he is majoring in finance and economics."

My father commented without arguing: "That's why he is managing his father's works…"

I looked at Alfred's eyes; a persistent habit I nurtured in my childhood, it activates whenever I searched for an answer or a way to respond to my father. Conscious of my pitfall, Alfred took the lead as always: "Yes, I heard that he is managing an operation to import the wool…. Natural wool."

Now, the sense of inferiority won me over, swallowed raw, urged me to speak in defense of my honor: "He is older than me…. I assume that he is in his thirty or so…" Then I followed up, attempting to hide my insecurity: "They have a branch in the city where I am studying now."

Fleeing, I glanced at the Coffee table to steal a biscuit and shove it into my big mouth to disguise my discomfort.

Alfred said, confirming my information and he probably understood this childish behavior of mine:" Yes, they have a branch there, it's relatively new…. And he is a few years older than Kieran."

And just like that, I welcomed the routine of the old days. When I feel conscious of every stupid thing, my father said or will attempt to say, always thinking that he was comparing me to someone whom I think was doing better than me as well as when we fought over stupid gossip - which I believe it is - and about who was right and who is wrong. However, I never imagined that this stupid conversation and gossip consuming about one of the richest families in our neighborhood was just an introduction to something deeper and important. Something that will change my life, yet another time.

A big error, the one who forgot that my father never indulges himself in trivial rumors was me.
                                                 

                                                    ****           ****          ****

Following the nostalgic evening, the days passed in apparent peace as in my definition, albeit an ominous calm thickened underneath…a sort of preparation my brothers' efforts engrossed in making. I could feel the atmosphere, but I couldn't make its core.

Hanging on the banner of my ideals; if your big brothers don't want you to know their business, there is a high possibility that it doesn't concern you, it's better for your sanity that you don't know.

How naïve I was…

Until the date of my return to the campus approached, the surprise my father was hiding from me floated to the surface. They say the calmness always hid an unpredictable storm.

An invitation to a dinner in one of the most distinguished and famed hotels.

I took the invitation between my hands, caressing it. Turned it back and forth in every direction, smelling the rich perfume on its corners, dissecting the tiniest details to assure myself it wasn't a prank. Then I commented, wondering:

"What is this? Where did it come from?"

A faint smile rested on my father's answer gave it a taste of amusement: "An invitation to a dinner party."

"Yes, I know that… I mean from whom? Why me?"

"You can read who is the sender yourself."

"No, I know… I mean, why?… why in hell the Olvera sends us an invitation to a dinner party for the engagement of one of her sons?... Why me personally?"

In this secluded, suffocating study room, I observed my father. Leisurely, he sat before a large wooden and very expensive desk. His back was facing the window. And his enigmatic eyes were piercing through me. Telling me to search for an answer on my own.

I tried to avoid his gaze, shifting my eyes toward the wooden, very expensive shelves that were full of old and new books, medals, trophies. Squeezing my brain for a response: "I see…" Courageously, I received his piercing gaze: "Could it be Evelyn's fiance?"

 "No." My father was silent for a minute before he followed: "There are three invitations in total, and I have chosen you to come with me and your mother."

Bewildered, I froze in my place, happy, unhappy, proud, intrigued…. A mix of massive emotions that didn't make me sure about my situation. However, all of that disappeared when my father spoke again: "Of course, your sister and her fiance will be there too. Sadly, at a different table."
                                                ****     ****     ****    ****

It was cold and dark, an average winter day in my hometown. The sound of rain kicked out the stillness of the night. My father opened the car door to my mother after he opened his umbrella, protecting her from getting wet.

Two hands embarrassed each other, in a transient moment of care and warmth. Those small gestures of heed nurtured the roots of our family in my grandmother's reflection.

 My mother, wearing her cashmere coat and a pearl necklace descended, stood by my father's under the same umbrella.  A scene out of a movie made them ten years younger in my eyes. Observing them together like that sipped absurd thoughts into my mind. Aren't we just like a normal, happy family? A wild smile defeated my tense lips before I gave the keys to the concierge and followed behind them.