Island Affair

“That’s a bad thing?”

“Not at all. Simply an observation. And a compliment.”

“Granted, I never experienced a chancletazo from her, but I was around when that slipper found its mark if one of her sons misbehaved.”

“You are a wonderfully considerate person, you know that?”

“Any good manners or behavior on my part stems from my parents’ strict rules, and my mom’s chancleta.”

“My Mamá Alicia had a chancla, too,”

Sara chuckled as Luis mimicked the age-old threat of Hispanic mamás everywhere—a slipper clutched in hand, waving it in the air, ready to fling at the perpetuator of mischief if needed.

Familia was familia. Good, bad, or indifferent. Their parents had tried to instill that loyalty in them.