Today is M Day; the day my boyfriend meets my momma. She’s currently in the kitchen, rubbing in salt, oregano, vinegar, and garlic to about a thousand steaks. Dominican mothers are nothing if not prepared.
The number that is coming to feast has grown in the last 24 hours. My mother just informed me La Capitan is also dining in our traditionally Dominican styled home. “Ella viene a pendensiar,” Mami said. And that she will.
La Capitan will enter, poised and armed with questions for my boyfriend. She will sit on the loud orange couch and observe him silently, sneaking peaks between sips of soda. The enormous porcelain flower figurine that covers the coffee table will serve as a shield, like a tree trunk in the jungle. La Capitan is fearless, intelligent, and intimidating. She is like Barbara Walters 20/20 investigates.
She is my sister.
I’ve already warned my boyfriend about what’s to come when meeting Mami, my step father, and now La Capitan. He seems at ease with the crossfire. Not at all worried about his safety or the safety of his balls, which will probably be grilled like the steak in the pot, con sevollita y aji verde. So off I go, excited for this momentous occasion and, at the same time, gearing up for combat. I will report back in 01800 hours or whatever time M Day is over.
Over and out. Tu la patria! A hoy! Salute! Ten hut!