The summer I turned sixteen, my best friend, Leo, got air conditioning. That was the official reason I biked to his house every scorching afternoon. The unofficial reason was his mom, Mrs. Delgado.
She smiled, and it wasn't a flirty smile or a staged one. It was a tired, genuine, mom smile. "No, he's not. He's stubborn and he leaves his socks everywhere. But you see the good stuff. That's a gift."
"Sorry about the AC," she said, handing me a glass. "Leo says you're the only one who doesn't cheat at Mario Kart. High praise."
"Dude, your mom is so… chill," I said, dodging a plasma bolt. My frnd hot mom
Leo threw a pillow at my head. "Don't let it go to your head, nerd."
And that made him a good friend. Not just to Leo. But to the truth.
One afternoon, a freak thunderstorm rolled in. The power flickered, the AC died, and the basement turned into a sauna. Leo groaned. "Game over, man. I'm going to take a cold shower." The summer I turned sixteen, my best friend,
I didn't know what to say. I just mumbled, "He's easy to be friends with."
"You're a good friend to him, you know," she said, looking at me directly. Not at my acne, not at my too-big t-shirt, but at me . "He's been happier this year. Quieter at home, but happier. That's because of you."
Leo and I were in the basement, playing a video game where we blew up aliens. Upstairs, Mrs. Delgado was on a Zoom call for her landscape architecture job. Her voice drifted down, calm and professional. Delgado
The Summer of Seeing Clearly
"Mom!"
As she walked back upstairs, Leo rolled his eyes at me. "See? Total dictator."
He disappeared upstairs. I was left sitting on the couch, fanning myself with a pizza box.
That was the difference. To him, she was the woman who nagged him about sunscreen and made him re-do the dishes if he left a greasy pan. To me, she was a mystery wrapped in the smell of jasmine and coffee.