Page 9 of There Once was a Dancer
I nodded. “I’ll stop and pick up some coffee. Good night, sugar.”
He smiled. “Buenas noches, cowboy.”
I got into the car and drove away from the curb, watching him standing on the sidewalk until I got to the end of the block, then made my turn, heading home.
CACHI
I watched Rex drive away in his battered, old car and then turned, jogging up the path to the front door. I dropped my duffel on the porch and hugged my mamá. She melted against me for just a moment and then leaned back, sniffing the air.
“What is that smell, mijo? You come home all the time with it.”
I wasn’t about to tell her the oil I used to dance had a sickly-sweet smell so I chose something else, lifting my hands. “Shoot, Mamá. I’m sorry. The bar was muy busy tonight. We wash our hands a lot. Is the soap they have.”
She smiled sweetly. “It’s okay. Come inside. You need shower before bed.”
I nodded, picking up my duffel bag, wincing when I realized I’d used the wrong hand. Of course, she noticed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nada, Mamá.”
She shook her head. “We speak English. I need learn better.”
We’d spent all our lives speaking Spanish back home in San Juan, but after coming to the States, we’d both tried our best to fit in by speaking English. Apparently, now that meant we should speak it at home too. I didn’t mind and since her English wasn’t as good as mine, I thought it wouldn’t hurt for either of us to work harder at it. I transferred my bag to the other hand and walked into the house which smelled of something delicious. My stomach growled as I realized it’d been hours since I’d last had something to eat right before work. “Something smellsamazing.” I heard the door shut behind me as I headed for the kitchen. “Did you cook tonight?”
“Carlotta…she cook chile rellenos.” She followed me into the kitchen, walking to the stove where a covered tray sat. “¿Tienes hambre?”
I nodded. “Sí, Mamá.” My auntie, Carlotta, made the best chile rellenos I’d ever tasted. She stuffed them with fried potato and Mexican cheese before dipping them in batter and frying them. In the service porch, I dropped my dirty clothes into the washer before starting it up.
By the time I got back to the kitchen, a steaming plate lay on the table. She’d set out small bowls of homemade corn salsa, guacamole, and crema to go with the food. I grinned as I sat down and picked up a fork. She sat across from me with a cup of tea. A long time ago, I realized that nothing made her happier than seeing me enjoy my food. Both she and her sister were amazing cooks. They took turns tempting me with food, always telling me I was too thin for my own good.
After polishing off half my plate, feeling her eyes on me the whole time, I finally glanced up. “Okay, what is it? Something is on your mind…pero…why you up so late?”
She pursed her lips. “You know I no sleep when mi bebé, he is no home. It may be surprise to you, but even when I no come to greet you on the porch, I still wait for you, Cachi.”
Any other time, I would find her English absolutamente encantador, but tonight, knowing she’d tried to sleep but couldn’t because I was late, I felt nothing but guilt. “But is so late, Mamá. You need your sleep.”
She waved her hand in dismissal. “Pfft. What I need, is to know my Cachi, he gets home safe.” She leaned forward. “I always listen for the sound of your car, Cachi, but tonight, whenno tires on driveway, I get up and wait to see what is happen. And what you think I see? A man drive mi bebé home.”
“My—ah—my friend gave me a ride.”
“Si. I see that. Where is your car?”
I hated lying so I chose a partial truth. “I had a problem with it so my friend, he drive me home.” It was a stretch to call Rex my friend and I definitely wasn’t about to admit I’d only met him tonight.
She nodded, seemingly pacified for the moment as she waved her hand at my plate. “You eat and then tell me about this man. He is nice?”
I nodded, swiping a chunk of poblano through the tangy red sauce they swam in. “Yes, Mamá. He’s very nice. You would like him and I introduce you when he come to take me to my car tomorrow, if you no have to go to work.”
She smiled. “Good. I will be home. No work tomorrow. Francisco, he closes the store.”
I almost choked on my food, grabbing the glass of guava juice she’d put on the table, downing almost half of it before I could speak. “Why is Tio Francisco closing the store?”
“Francisco and Carlotta have counting.”
I frowned, trying to figure out what counting could be. It dawned on me. “Like…inventory?”
“Inventario, si! They are very busy.”
