Junito spent most of his life watching his favorite cousin, Joy seemed to find trouble like a moth to flame. So, he took it upon himself to protect her, and protect her he did. She spoke horrible English when she first moved to the Bronx, his mom told her she would struggle. Joy’s only form of communication when she first moved was to point, and say the world in Spanish hoping someone would understand. Junito saw how people treated her, how they snickered at the way she spoke, how they called her an immigrant, she’s American! He would yell. People told her to stop taking their jobs, told her to learn English she’s in America, told her to go back where she came from, they were mean. Junito didn’t get it, she was just like them. She bled red, and slept on a bed just like the rest of us he thought. It wasn’t fair. 

She also wasn't stealing jobs that belonged to her, she's a citizen. Joy didn’t realize that she was being bullied, she didn’t truly understand what people were saying to her. She just knew that her cousin was always there, always watching and always trying to help her with something. She appreciated it.  

Junito often took her to a Puerto Rican bakery, it was decked out in flags and treats she had, had from home. But even there Joy wasn’t safe, even though the little girl felt, and resonated as a Puerto Rican, all people saw were her narrow eyes, her pale skin, her tiny frame, “La Chinita” they said. “La Gringita” they called. How could they be so mean? But, here, Joy could tell she was being bullied. Here, she could understand what they were saying. I’m not Chinese! I'm just like you she would cry, I'm not white, I'm not an outsider, in fact I'm more Puerto Rican than all of you she would shout. She would cry when she got home, seek comfort in her mother's arms, she felt like she didn’t belong and Junito only wanted her to feel like she did.  

One day, when Joy was 17, she was at the bakery. Per usual, people were talking because she was an Asian woman speaking fluent Spanish, when a fire broke out in the apartment above the bakery. Junito grabbed her arm, told her they needed to go. But Joy only heard the cries of the old woman in the back who couldn’t get to her son who was in the apartment above. “Junito, el nene!” (Junito, the boy!) Joy yelled, pointing up.  

“No, Ven acá!” (no, come here). Junito pulled his cousin to her feet, smoke filling the downstairs.  

“Pero el nino! El va a morir, nesesitamos ayudarlo!” (But the boy, he's going to die, we need to help him), Junito looked at his cousin and to the people running in an out. Why would Joy want to help these people? The only people Joy felt she belonged to treated her like trash. It was like, Joy didn’t care. He looked into her eyes, so pure and genuine. He sighed; they were in the ghetto. The chances of the fire trucks and police getting here quick were slim, if something happened to Joy, he’d have to kill himself. What would he do without his favorite cousin? They were kids, mom told him to keep her safe. Running head first into a fire for a kid who was as racist as his parents completely defied his mother's orders, but Joy looked serious. Determined.  

Junito nodded, sighing. He ran to the bathroom with Joy, looking around for towels. When he found nothing, he stripped off his shirt, soaking it under the cold water of the faucet.  

“Que hace?” (What are you doing?) Joy asked, brow raised. Now didn’t seem like the time for a strip show. Junito held out the cold t-shirt to Joy. 

“Envuelvela as tú cara” (wrap it around your face). Joy raised a brow. 

“But, jour faye?” Joy questioned, pointing at Junito’s face. 

“No té preocupes. Ponla!” (don’t worry. Put it!) Junito huffed, pulling Joy to him and tying the wet shirt to his face. Together, they got to the ground. Their ability to see seriously hindered, their only form of navigation was bumping into things, and the sounds of the woman trying to break down a door.  

Joy would periodically knock into Junito, letting him know she was still there. She also wanted to make sure he was okay, he was coughing, he seemed to be only crawling with his left hand and it worried Joy. She read somewhere that smoke inhalation could kill people, would he die? It didn’t matter, he was pulling her up and telling her to help him kick open a door. Joy wasn’t even sure if she was at the right door, she couldn’t see, her eyes were burning, she just kicked in time with Junito. It would be alright, he was here. So, they kicked, and kicked.  

Joy started looking around, they needed a key. They couldn’t kick this door down. Junito continued to try to kick the door open, stopping every once in a while, to watch Joy who was running around throwing things on the floor. There was a loud, “Aha!” and Joy came running over. She ran to the door, pulling Junito’s shirt off her face and wrapping it around her hand. He went to tell her to put it back on when the door flew open. The mother, rushed forward wrapping her arms around her little boy. Yelling her thanks at Joy and him, he paid her no mind. They needed to get the hell out. 

Outside Cristobal stood, he had run over from his store. He shook his head; Joy loved this place. She's going to be so sad, he thought. His hands on his hips, he was just about to walk away when he heard what sounded an awful lot like his daughter. Joy came bursting from the smoke, she was pushing a woman along, her cousin right behind her his arms pushing Joy along. “Corre!” (run!) he yelled. Cristobal pushed passed people, “Excuse me!” He yelled shoving a man over.  

“Joy! Junito!” He yelled, running over to his daughter and nephew.  

“Papa!” Joy called, running into her father’s arms. He held her tight, her face was dark with soot, but she seemed okay, her eyes were red rimmed. But she was breathing, he turned to Junito who was on the ground sitting, his chest was heaving, he was coughing and he was shirtless. Cristobal looked down, Joy’s hand was wrapped in what looked like a t-shirt, he looked back at Junito who had his head between his legs.  

Cristobal chose not to question them that day, he felt no need to. They were okay, a trip to the hospital and they were all set. But he noticed the days that followed that Joy was happier so in turn so was Junito. It was as if, Joy had suddenly found her place. The neighborhood newspaper made a small story on the bakery fire, it was on page 8.  

17-year-old Joy Garcia and her 19-year-old cousin Junito Garcia charged head first into their favorite bakery, determined to save lives. They helped save a young boy, and his mother from the flames before the fire department arrived.   

This would be the first time Joy charged into danger for others and Cristobal had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last, he just hoped that when she did it again, she had her big cousin there again to help out. 

The next time Junito took Joy to the bakery, everyone hugged her. In fact, they even gave her kisses. They asked about her day, they told her to stay in school when she complained about it, in fact, for the first time ever. They asked about her, instead of judging her, they asked Joy where she came from. Why could joy speak Spanish. Why was her last name Garcia? They asked Joy everything, and she told them. I'm adopted she said, her parents were Korean but she never got to meet them, she was raised in Puerto Rico her whole life until she moved here, she was just like them.  

Joy became family and Junito felt accomplished, he would have preferred to kick someone’s rather than rush into a fire, but his mom said protect Joy. As far as he was concerned, he was doing great.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

I threw my head back, laughing at Junito’s story. “Nah, dude listen. It was messed up, she kept saying I was the father and I was like, girl! I don’t know you, how you gon drop that on someone in the middle of a dollar tree!”  

Wendy shook her head, pouring coffee into my cousin’s cup. “So, you don’t know her, or you do?” she asked him.  

“Nah, I know her. But I'm talking to chick at the dollar tree, I couldn’t have her blow my cover.” to this I burst out into laughter again.  

“Pendejo, oh my god” (idiot). I mumbled, sipping from my cup. “I’m surprised mami didn’t come with you.” 

“Nah, Titi (auntie) was getting her hair done. Just cause she loves you don’t mean her hair don’t come first.” I grinned. “The apartment is coming along nicely; I'm not surprised you unpacked your kitchen first though.” 

“Well duh, what was I gonna do if someone came over and I had no coffee to give them? I'd be disowned so fast man.” I felt a chill run down my back at the thought of not being able to serve my family.  

“Oh, titi would kick your right back to Puerto Rico man. Whoa! Wendy what are you doing!” Junito yelled jumping from his chair. I jumped, turning to Wendy who held a rag in her hand. 

“Um, cleaning?” 

“With what?” 

“Um, Mr. Clean?” I gasped. 

“No, no. Wendy my love, no. Girl, you’re marrying a Puerto Rican, we don’t clean with Mr. Clean. Where's your Fabuloso?” 

“My what?” I gasped again, clutching at my chest. I stood up, pulling Wendy into a hug.  

“Baby, the purple stuff. Remember, I told you it's called Fabuloso, it’s lavender.” 

“Yeah, but that’s for the floor.” 

“No, no. Grab a small bowl babe, hot water, 2 seconds of Fabuloso, and that spray I gave you.” 

“The spray has bleach in it Joy, you can’t mix two cleaning products.” I cupped her cute, pale. Chubby cheeks and shook my head. 

“Amor, mix it. It's okay. Then, make more coffee, it all mixes together.” 

“That makes no sense”, I kissed Wendy to shush her.  

“Don’t judge her Juni, she’s still learning.” I said, hugging Wendy’s head to my chest.  

“You guys are asses.” a couple minutes later and Junito was helping Wendy and I unpack some stuff in the living room. “Babe, why do you have so many of these?”  

“Because Domino’s are a staple of every get together baby”, I said. 

“But, do you need three packs of them?” I nodded. “Why?” 

“Because, what if I lose one? What if the kids wanna play? What if my cousin Emilio steals them again? He always cheats and keeps some in his jacket, and then forgets they are there and then my count is wrong. Always need extra babe.” Wendy just nodded at me, like I was crazy or something. She'll learn soon. We were still unpacking when we heard a loud crash, all three of our heads shot up.  

“What the hell was that?” Junito asked. 

“I’m not sure, I'll check.” 

“Wait, wait. I'll come”, Junito stood behind me, “Wendy, stay.” I snickered, talking to my fiancé like a dog. We rounded the corner, my front door handle was twisting, like someone was trying to get in. 

“Who is it?” Wendy asked. 

“I don’t know yet”, we crouched down walked to the door. I looked through the peephole, my mom and her best friend were both standing at the door, trying to unlock the door. “Don't worry, it’s just mom”, I shook my head unlocking the door. “Mami!” I yelled, lifting my mother up and kissing all over her face. 

“Ay, mi nenita!” (ah, my little girl) 

“Bendicion Clara”, I said, pulling said woman into my arms, I gave her kiss on the cheek and ushered them both into the apartment. Wendy came walking in, smiling and hugging my mom. But then, she committed her second sin of the day, she shook Clara’s hand, no hug and kiss. I felt my heart drop just a little. “Um, un minuto por favor, nesesito hablar con mi mujer”, (one minute please, I need to talk to my woman) I said, pulling Wendy with me to our bedroom. 

“what’s up babe”, Wendy asked. 

I took a deep breath and cupped Wendy’s face. “okay, listen babe. This is a test; you didn’t hug Clara babe.” 

“You know I don’t like to hug people I don’t know babe.” 

“I know, but I know her. That makes her family.” 

“Joy, I'm Korean. We don’t follow those traditions.” 

“Yeah, but I'm Puerto ricin and we do.” 

Wendy shrugged, “okay, but I'm not Joy. I'm not going to go around hugging and kissing everyone because you know them. That how people get herpes, so what. You know a hobo, I'm supposed to hug and kiss him too?” what in the world? What is going on right now? 

“Wendy, you’ve never had a problem before about doing things my culture likes.” 

“Yeah, but now we’re getting married, am I supposed to sacrifice my comfort for your weird cultish culture ?” 

Weird cultic culture?! “What is wrong with you!” 

“No, what's wrong with you! Why are you so afriad of your own family Joy! It’s time to cut the umbilical cord baby!” 

“You know what, forget it. You're right. You don’t want to hug and kiss everyone, I get it. That’s fine, its fine”, it’s not fine, I'm full of .  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~` 

“The house is very nice, I like it.” my mom said as Wendy pointed out all the cool things we would have now. “Oh, do you guys have a spare key?” 

I was just about to say yes, when Wendy blatantly lied to my gracious holy mother. “No, we haven't gotten one yet.” 

“Oh, well. Mija, (daughter) you should get three of them. I'm going to need one, you should give one to Junito, and one of your friends.” 

“For what?” Wendy asked and my heart began to absolutely pound. 

“Well, so I can visit. And, if something happens you have people with a spare honey.” Wendy opened to say something, and something told me it was going to be the wrong thing. So, before the love of my life ruined our lives, I swept in and gave her what I hope didn’t look like a forceful kiss.  

“Ow, my lip Joy.” 

“Babe, can I talk to you for a minute.” 

“Again?” 

“Mhm!” I smiled sweetly at my mom and pulled Wendy along back to our bedroom. “Wendy! We have spare keys.” 

“Yeah, one. One spare key. It belongs under a mat or in a flower pot.” 

“Really? In a flower pot? Like that’s not going to be obvious, a random flower pot in an apartment building. You gonna build a garden in the elevator while you’re at it?” 

“Under a mat then.” 

“For what? This is the Bronx; they will steal all our and then return the key.” 

“Then I don’t know! But you’re not giving everyone a spare. Did you see how she tried to get in today. She just came and tried opening the door. The point of moving out was for privacy Joy, not to wonder when people were going to barge in because their bored.” 

“That’s my mother!” 

“Yeah so? I didn’t give my mom a key.” 

“Your mom is in Canada!” 

“So? Now, when she visits. She has to call, and knock. She can’t just come in, what if were having crazy wild Joy? Huh? Then what! What if we’re doing the wheel barrel!” 

“The wheel barrels? What the is that?” 

“It’s a position Joy! A wild one! What if we’re watering the grass!” 

“We have no grass Wendy!” 

“Again! A  positions!” 

“Woman, who the  are you learning these positions from? Are you talking to Katy too much?” 

“All, I'm saying Is. Where I'm from, you get a fake rock and you put the key in there. You give a spare key to your neighbor. Not everyone in your family so they can come barging in.” 

I sighed, is this what sacrifice and compromise means? To give, when you’d rather not? I rested my hands-on Wendy’s hips, pulling her close so we were forehead to forehead. “you stress me out, you know, that right?” 

“Believe me, you stress me out too. I've had two engagements, I need to have stock piles of coffee, I need to clean with new things, even my mop is weird now.”, Wendy grinned, “It’s okay though. Because I love you, and you love me. Right?” 

“Of course, I'll talk to my mom about the spare key. But we’re not getting a rock for a spare key. We'll get to know our neighbors, that’s not a bad idea.” we swayed back and forth for a bit, just enjoying the silence and being close. I kissed Wendy’s forehead, and thought about how I could give everyone a spare key without her finding out.  

Compromise my little tan ! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~` 

Notes: 

Here, is where the cultural differences begin to show up. So, get ready for some laughs in the future chapters, a lot of Joy trying to play both sides to keep everyone happy. Katy will be back, with some more outrageous stuff. And Wendy might really try to build a garden, we’ll see. Have a great day everyone!