We're stuck behind a Brinks truck doing fifteen miles per hour in the middle lane when Victor's mom calls for the third time.

I answer on speaker. "We're still on 95, Suegra."

"But you left an hour ago! Where are you?"

"Passing Aventura. There's a Cybertruck broke down in two lanes."

"Of course there is," she says. "Did you get the yuca?"

Victor mouths I told you at me.

"Yes, the Publix yuca," I say.

"Not that Whole Foods nonsense?"

"Publix. I promise."

In the backseat, Mia announces, "Mommy, I'm melting."

"We're all hot, baby."

"But it’s SO BAD. Like I went in the pool. In my clothes!"

Victor's mom is still talking. "And you're watching the hurricane, yes? They say it could turn-"

"Mami," Victor interrupts, "it's in the Gulf heading north. We're fine."

"For now! First they say Tallahassee, then suddenly it's coming to Boca!"

I catch Victor in the rearview. His jaw is doing that thing where I can tell he's counting to ten in Spanish.

She hangs up. Immediately, the group chat explodes.

Are they past Hollywood yet?

Tell them to take the Turnpike!

Turnpike is worse, everyone knows this.

"Your family operates like a SWAT team," I say.

"More like the FBI," Victor mutters. "Surveillance division."

Mia kicks my seat. "Mommy, what does suegra mean?"

"It means mother-in-law. Abuela is Daddy's mom, so she's my suegra."

"Oh. Why is she calling so much?"

"Because she loves us."

"That's a lot of love."

Victor snort-laughs.

We crawl past the Hard Rock hotel.

"Mommy, LOOK! The big guitar!"

"I see it, Mia."

"Can I play it?"

"No, baby. It's just for looking."

"That's boring."

My phone buzzes. Victor's sister. I let it ring.

"You gonna get that?" Victor asks.

"Nope."

"She's gonna call me next."

His phone rings. He ignores it. Two seconds later, the group chat:

Why is nobody answering???

Maybe they got in an accident???

Don't say that!

I'm just saying, with all the uninsured drivers-
Victor silences his phone. "We're going rogue."

"Finally."

We pass Hallandale. My back is screaming. This baby is doing parkour on my bladder. The AC is broken and I can feel sweat pooling in places I didn't know could sweat.

Victor's dad calls.

"Yeah, Papi?"

"Why didn't you stop for gas in Aventura like I told you?"

"Because we're in bumper-to-bumper traffic."

"But now you need gas!"

"We have forty miles left."

"You don’t have enough! Pull off at Pembroke Pines-"

"Papi-"

"Just LISTEN to me, Marcelo-"

"It's Victor."

"What?"

"My name is Victor."

Brief silence. "I know your name is Victor. Why are you being dramatic? Just get gas!"

Victor takes the exit.

"Why are we stopping?" I ask. "We don't need gas."

"Because if I don't, he'll call back every three minutes."

At the RaceTrac, Mia announces an emergency pee situation.

I haul my pregnant body out. Everything hurts. Inside, Mia sprints past a woman in a Heat jersey yelling into her phone.

"I'm NOT driving to Orlando for this, bro! YOU come to Miami!"

The bathroom smells like someone tried to cover up a crime with lemon Fabuloso.

I catch my reflection. I look like a character from a telenovela about motherhood and suffering.

Mia asks for Takis. I say no. She negotiates. I hold firm.

Back at the car, Victor is on the phone.

"Yes, we stopped for gas... Yes, we got premium... No, I didn't check the air in the tires, Papi, because they’re fine..."

He hangs up. Looks at me. "Wanna turn around?"

"SO bad."

"We could fake a breakdown."

"They'd send your brother."

"We could say you're having contractions."

"They'd meet us at Boca Regional."

"We could say we saw a UFO."

"Your mom would call Telemundo."

We laugh. Get back on 95 where traffic has somehow gotten WORSE.

A Lamborghini with temporary tags weaves through traffic going ninety.

"Only in Miami," Victor says.

Mia starts singing Baby Shark as revenge for not buying the Takis. Victor turns on the music. I grip the door handle and breathe through it like a contraction.

My phone rings. Victor's aunt.

"Hi, Tía."

"Ay, Jenny, how are you feeling? You looked so tired in the pictures Victor's mom sent."

"What pictures?"

"From the baby shower! You were so swollen, mi amor."

I'm going to kill Victor's mom.

"I'm okay, Tía. Just pregnant and in traffic."

"You need to elevate those feet! When I was pregnant with Daniela in '92-"

I zone out. Make appropriate sounds.

We pass Pompano. Twenty more minutes.

Victor squeezes my hand. "We'll survive."

"I'm not convinced."

"Next year," he says quietly, "we stay home."

I look at him. "Really?"

"Really. We'll get a turkey from Sedano's, watch football. Just us."

"Your mom will lose her mind."

"Let her."

Something unlocks in my chest.

"We're still going today though," Victor says.

"Yeah. We're already here."

We take the Palmetto exit. The group chat explodes with parking instructions.

Victor's mom calls. "Hi, Mami. We're pulling up now."

We park. The driveway is full. The whole extended family is here.

Mia throws open the door. "ABUELA!"

Her grandmother comes down the walkway ridiculously overdressed for Thanksgiving dinner, even though it’s only 2 PM in the afternoon.

Victor turns off the car. "Ready?"

"No."

"Me neither."

His mom hugs Mia, then Victor, then me-carefully around my belly.

"Ay, Jenny! Mira, you're so big!"

"Thanks, Suegra."

"And a hurricane baby! You know what they say-"

"They're fighters," Victor's dad finishes, appearing with a cafecito. "Strong. Like us. We survived Andrew!"

I smile. Let them guide us inside where it smells like pernil and arroz con gandules and there are approximately forty relatives who all want to touch my belly.

I’m already looking forward to the drive back down I-95, but then I remember what Victor said.

Next year we're staying home.

For now though, I elevate my tragic ankles and let the hurricane baby do flips while Victor's aunt brings me water and I think: I can deal with this, it’s going to be fine.

A little bonkers, but fine.