“Well, I guess. If you say so.”
He beamed and went to work fitting his second helmet on her head.
Her first time on a motorcycle. Or, as her mother would say if she knew, her first time on an insane deathtrap speeding down the highway with no protection, other than a helmet on her head. What was she thinking? Not for the first time, a thought struck her, how different she and Carlos were. And how willing she was to sample new experiences, feeling safe enough with him to reach way outside her comfort zone. She shivered and held on to Carlos tighter.
She had to admit that holding on to Carlos from her position right behind him on the seat was a perk of tempting fate. In the name of safety, she molded her body against the back of his, clutching his waist and squeezing. If she was going down, darn it, they were going down together.
She leaned so close to him as they rode that the scent of the soap from his shower invaded her nostrils. Boy, this man smelled good.
They rode for fifteen minutes and Monica saw the multi-layer ribbons of highways passing above and below each other – the bypass highways around St. Louis. Carlos selected the road that led them straight into the heart of the city, the magnificent Gateway Arch soaring up above them. She leaned her head back with care to follow its sleek lines high into the sky. One half of the Golden Arches, she’d called it when she was a kid. Gateway to the West.
Carlos slowed the machine, adjusting to in-city driving limits. To her surprise, he maneuvered the motorcycle into the Arch parking lot, sitting on the banks of the Mississippi River. Although a national wonder, it was a mainstay for children growing up in the St. Louis area, as both she and Carlos had. She tried to count how many times she’d been here, and lost count after a half dozen.
He pulled into a parking space and pushed the kickstand down with his foot. He squeezed her hands, still gripping his abdomen.
“You get off first.”
She swung her leg over the machine and hopped off on the left side. He followed.
“So? How was your first ride?”
She stood shivering, the cool November air biting her ears now that she’d taken off her helmet. “I survived.” She regretted her words when she saw a trace of disappointment in his expression. “In fact,” she went on, “I enjoyed it.” And it was true. She hadn’t just said it to please him. “It was exhilarating.” Especially holding him tighter and tighter.
He took her hand and they walked toward the Arch. Monica glanced around behind them. Their motorcycle was one of only about five vehicles in the lot. “Are you sure the Arch is open?”
Carlos shook his head. “It’s closed.”
“Then why…?”
“You’ll see.”
Okay, she was off on an unknown adventure with her gorgeous man from a world so different from hers. She would resist the effort to ask a million questions and go with the flow.
Passing the Arch, they climbed a grassy incline, then proceeded down the slope to the banks of the Mississippi River. Cobblestone walkways crisscrossed through the surrounding park area, known as Lacledes Landing. Further down, Lacledes featured a gathering place of dining and entertainment venues, but the walk between the Arch and the touristy waterfront area was peaceful and scenic.
Walking along the pathway on the river’s edge, hand in hand, Carlos turned to look at Monica. “So you were talking to Luisa about her papa.”
Monica nodded. “She and I have that in common, losing our fathers. Of course, it’s completely different. She was an infant, and I was an adult. But I thought it was an important topic to bring up with her.” She searched his eyes for evidence of reaction. “You didn’t mind that I discussed that with her, did you?”
He shook his head. “No, I guess it’s time. In fact, I’m surprised it hasn’t come up before now. She’s been without him her whole life, really.” They kept walking and Monica pulled her coat collar up around her neck to cut the chill.
“You have a great way with her.” It wasn’t the first time he’d told her that, but the duplication didn’t reduce her pleasure in hearing it.
Carlos veered off the trail and led her off to their left, away from the river. The lighting that illuminated the pathway got further and further away as they walked. Darkness began to grip them the further they roamed. “Carlos, where are we going?” She tried to keep her anxiety out of her voice.
“Almost there.”
Soon, they stopped in front of a large tree, its bare branches extending high above their heads. Monica glanced at Carlos. He trailed his fingers across the bark in the darkness. “Here.”
He dug in his jacket pocket till he withdrew a flashlight. Turning it on, he shone it directly on a spot of bark. He motioned to her. “Come over here.”
She stepped to the opposite side of the tree and squinted at the bark, the steady stream of light allowing her to see it. A carving of letters, two on top, two on bottom. Many winters and rains had softened the sharp indentations until the letters appeared a natural part of the tree. She ran her fingers across the carvings.
“RG. CG.” She looked up at him. “Are these…?”
Carlos stared at the tree, absorbed. “My brother and I.”
Monica caught her breath. “CG – that’s you. And RG – what was your brother’s name again?”
“Ricardo.” Carlos pulled his gaze away and looked at Monica. “He and I carved those initials almost twenty years ago.”
“Twenty!”
Carlos nodded. “We were here on a family outing. I was eight, he was ten. Mama had brought a picnic lunch and we were done eating. So while Mama and Papa were finishing up, Ricardo and I ran around this whole area.” He motioned to the surrounding hilly park area and a phantom of a smile crossed his lips in remembrance of that long ago day.
“Before I knew it, Ricardo had stopped over by this tree. I went over too, wondering what he was up to. He pulled a pocketknife out of his pocket, and he made the first incision. I worried because I knew Papa would probably be mad about us defacing public property. He was a very responsible citizen, my papa. But I idolized my big brother. I didn’t want to seem like a wimp. So I watched him carve ‘RG’ and then I held my hand out for the knife, and I carved ‘CG’ right beneath his.”
Monica turned back to the initials with new interest. A commemoration of brothers. A tribute to the simple love shared between two young boys on a carefree summer day.
“Ricardo was the age Luisa is now,” she murmured. She ran her fingers over the letters, now wrought with meaning. “They’re still here, after all this time.”
“Every time we came here after that day, Ricardo and I would run over and check them. We never told our parents. It was sort of our secret.”
Carlos turned away and took a step, bathing the tree in sudden darkness. Monica joined him. “Since Ricardo died, I come here whenever I want to think about him. Remember some of our times together, what we meant to each other.” He put his arm around her and pulled her against his side. “Sentimental, I know.”
She squeezed him around the waist. “You’re keeping Ricardo’s memory and his place in your family alive each time you come here.”
Carlos nodded. “I hardly ever go to the cemetery. I don’t like the tombstone, or surrounding myself with death and sadness when I remember my brother. Here, it’s different. It’s …” he looked around the grounds, “…happy. Families together, kids running around, sunshine, laughter. That’s how I choose to remember him.”
Monica smiled. So Carlos had a sentimental side. The man never ceased to amaze her with the parts of himself he chose to share with her. “Thank you for taking me here.”
“No problem.” He turned and shone the light on the tree for the last time. He covered the short distance and patted the initials with his hand. “Hasta la vista, hermano.”
Then, Carlos holding the flashlight on the ground in front of them, they walked back to the motorcycle.
The following Saturday, Monica took Luisa to the Children’s
Science Museum downtown, one of the best of its kind in the country, right there in St. Louis. Luisa was enthralled with the place, and Monica listened to her chatter about her discoveries all the way home.
She pulled her car into their driveway and saw Carlos’s car in the garage. He’d been at work when she’d arrived that morning. He must’ve wrapped up for the day. As she got out of her car, he opened the front door and walked toward her.
“Hi. You got some free time?”
She shook her head. “No, unfortunately, I don’t. My niece Mae is turning one and Barbie and Rick are throwing a gala party for the family.”
“Want company?”
Monica stared. “Are you kidding?”
Carlos shrugged one nonchalant shoulder. “Why not? You’ve met my whole family. I’ve met Barbie, Mae and Spencer. I’m only missing your mother.”
Monica coughed.
“Besides,” he continued, “Barbie gave me instructions the last time I saw her and I can report back to her on my progress.”
She had to laugh at his mischievous expression. “Report notwithstanding, you need to come to your senses. I can’t think of anyone who has actually volunteered to meet my mother. You know, willingly.”
“You don’t get along with her?” He gave her a curious look.
“Uh, I get along with her because I make the effort. She’s, how shall I say? Difficult. Yes.”
He nodded. “You can protect me.”
Monica blinked. “You’re totally serious. You actually want to come to a family birthday party? I mean, I didn’t invite you because I would never expect that of you.”
“Family is important.”
“Yes, they are.” She only hoped he wasn’t scared away by the women in her family.
They climbed into Monica’s car, Carlos on the passenger side. Monica checked her rearview mirror to make sure she hadn’t completely lost her mind. Had she remembered to -- yes, there it was – that big splash of pink with the gorgeous purple bow in the back seat – she’d thrown Mae’s birthday present in before she left home.
As she drove to her mother’s house, Monica lowered the tension out of her shoulders and took a soothing breath of fresh air. A move not missed by Carlos, judging from the fact that he reached over and massaged her shoulders with his strong fingers.
Due to the evenings she spent with Luisa, she had fewer hours to do other things – such as all the family stuff that normally took up every spare moment she wasn’t at work. But subtract eight to ten hours from every week she used to hand over without a blink to her mother, sister, niece or nephew, and there was a noticeable gap. And noticed, it had been. Barbie had asked her for favors several times over the last few weeks – pick up her prescription at the grocery, pick up Mae’s party dress from the dry cleaner, take Spencer to tee-ball practice. Monica did the best she could, but she could no longer run herself into the ground.
She had responsibilities – not only a special project at the theater – but now, the time and effort she dedicated to Luisa. Not to mention the time she spent on her budding relationship with Carlos. She needed to set boundaries.
It was time to say no.
As Monica pulled onto her mother’s street, she strengthened her resolve. Whatever the next favor they asked her, the answer would be no. There was a first time for everything. They would just have to get used to it.
“You’re awful quiet.”
Monica glanced over at Carlos. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking that I needed to set some boundaries with my mother and sister.”
“Why?”
“Let’s just say they’re under the impression I have one purpose in my life. To serve them.”
He laughed. “It can’t be that bad.”
She gave him a wide-eyed expression. “You just wait and see.”
Evelyn’s condo sat on a cul de sac with little traffic. A cute two-story tan townhouse with white shutters and doors, identical to five other units on each side, it was the perfect size for an active, widowed grandmother.
She parked her car in an empty space out front. She pulled out the huge gaily-wrapped box from the backseat and the two of them hiked to the front door. When her mother swung open the door, Monica couldn’t help but smile. Evelyn the Entertainer was on.
“It’s Aunt Monica!” she trilled, for Mae’s sake. “She’s got a beautiful package. And I bet I know who it’s for.”
Monica stepped inside, handing the gift over to her mother. Evelyn turned to place the big package on a table in the living room. When she turned back she saw Carlos. “Oh! What …?”
Monica wasn’t about to find out what the question would have entailed. “Mom, this is Carlos. My …,” She stumbled to a halt. Sure, he’d told his mother they were dating. But was he comfortable with a label like …
“Her boyfriend,” Carlos finished, and she grinned at him in gratitude. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Lampton.” He held his hand out and Evelyn took it limply, her stare unabated.
“Hello,” she replied uncertainly. “Monica didn’t tell me she was bringing anyone.”
“That’s my fault. I kind of sprang it on her.”
“Well, I’d like to chat, but I need to help with the party.”
“No problem. Don’t let me stop you.”
Evelyn planted a glare on Monica and pointed at her. “You need to help too, Monica.”
“Of course.” Monica sighed. “I hate to leave you to your own defenses, but I really need to …”
Carlos waved a dismissive hand. “I’ll be fine.”
They followed Evelyn into the house. It looked like a circus clown had burped and unloaded every primary-colored embellishment known to the big top. Bouquets of balloons were tied to every light fixture and doorknob. A kid-sized canvas canopy stood in the living room and a life-sized mannequin dressed in clown gear stood next to the dining room table. Cardboard cutouts of clowns, costumed ponies and lion tamers stuck to the walls. The cake sitting on the counter was, what else, circus themed. Each guest – adult or child – wore a pointy cardboard clown hat, complete with a torturous rubber band under the chin.
Evelyn handed them each one. Monica accepted it, wondering if she could stuff it under a couch cushion and claim ignorance. But a pointed glare from her mother made her sigh and strap the silly thing on, careful not to twang her larynx. Carlos chuckled and held his by his side.
Barbie swept in then, carrying the one-year-old guest of honor, who wore a yellow satin dress and white patent leather shoes.
“Here she is!” Barbie practically sang, reminding Monica of all the times she and her sister had planted themselves inches from the TV, watching the ladies in ball gowns glide down a curved stairway. Giving graceful long-fingered waves, hair swept up in smooth chignons, Burt Parks singing, “… Miss Americ-aaaa! He-e-e-re she is, look at her smile.”
“Well, hello Carlos. So glad you came.” Barbie’s genuine smile gave Monica’s churning insides some relief.
“Thanks.”
“Mon, could you grab a garbage bag for the wrappings? I think Mae’s going to open her presents.” Evelyn scooted off.
Monica nodded, rolled her eyes at Carlos and headed for the kitchen. She pulled out a couple white plastic bags from beneath the sink. If he wanted to get a glimpse of what life around her family was like, this was going to be an unabridged opportunity.
“Mon,” her mother’s raised voice came from the living room, “could you bring the paper and pencil I put on the counter? Someone needs to write down who brought what.”
Monica sighed and glanced around for the items.
“Oh, and Mon? Could you write everything down for Barbie?”
A deep chuckle made Monica look over at Carlos. So glad you’re enjoying this.
Two hours later, Mae had opened each present, Monica had carefully documented each one and who’d brought it, squeezed all the wrappings into the bag, and helped cut the cake and scoop ice cream. She and Carlos stood in her mother’s kitchen throwin
g away paper plates and placing used silverware in the dishwasher. Through the serving window, they could see Evelyn and Barbie reclined on the couch, enjoying the post-party quiet.
“Why don’t you go relax with your mom and sister? You’ve been working hard all day. I’ll finish up here.”
Monica glanced around the kitchen, trash bags to be taken out, a few more utensils to be soaked, then she looked into his eyes. “Really?”
“Sure. Won’t take long.” He brushed a quick kiss on her forehead and gave her a little push.
Monica circled into the living room. All the decorations were stowed away now so her mother didn’t have any work to do later.
“That was really nice, Mom,” Barbie said. “Mae had a great time. Rick got tons of great pictures.”
Evelyn rested her palm on Barbie’s cheek and patted her. “You know I’d do anything for my Mae and Spencer. I enjoyed every second.”
Monica plopped down on the couch with a cup of punch.
“Do you believe the haul that little girl made?” Barbie mused.
“Mmm mm mm,” Evelyn responded.
“And that was just the family party. The party for our friends is next weekend. We have at least forty people coming.”
Evelyn pried her head off the couch and stared at her daughter. “Forty people? What are you serving?”
Barbie yawned. “It’s all catered. Roast beef sandwiches on rolls, a pasta dish, salads, chips.”
“But will you need help serving your guests? You’ll have your hands full with Mae.”
Monica felt her spine stiffening.
“Because I’m sure your sister wouldn’t mind helping out, would you, Monica?” They both turned their attention to her. From where she sat, she could see straight into the kitchen and she noticed Carlos froze in drying a serving bowl.
This was it. Her first chance to say no. To turn down the opportunity to attend Mae’s second party for her first birthday, and serve the friends of her sister and brother-in-law so they’d be free to mingle. A perfect opportunity to exercise her newfound determination to say …
Inner Diva Page 11
