Coffee and Conclusions

by Emma Sterner-Radley

  IsabellaMartinez: Nothing definitive. Just asked me about my iPad and if I used it for dating. And added that she and Daddy would be fine with me dating again.

  Erin chuckled and brushed her hair away from her face.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Lol. That’s generous of her!

  IsabellaMartinez: Oh, yes, she tends to give the impression of being a magnanimous ruler. With her words, at least. The sentiment behind them is usually different though. I suspect she just wanted to snoop and find out if I am seeing someone who is “more suitable” than she felt Richard was.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Ooookay. Wow. So what is “more suitable” in her world?

  IsabellaMartinez: Someone successful. Preferably rich, but definitely ambitious and hardworking. She probably still dreams of me marrying one of the lawyers she works with.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Your mom’s a lawyer?

  IsabellaMartinez: One of the most highly rated lawyers in Philadelphia, yes. She’s the Martinez in “Martinez & Claremont—Attorneys at Law.” But let’s not talk about her. I just wanted to let you know that she asked the question and I dodged it. As you know, Mother can be…difficult.

  From everything Isabella had told her about Judith Martinez, the term “difficult” was being polite. Very polite.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Yeah, difficult and then some. :-(

  IsabellaMartinez: Scared off yet?

  BlackVelvetBitches: By her? Nope.

  Some rich, lawyer shark didn’t scare her. What frightened her was a sweet, little baby she could drop or give nightmares or generally just screw up for life.

  IsabellaMartinez: Good. Then let’s talk about something nicer. Let’s talk about you. Did you get any sleep last night?

  Erin sighed and decided to be honest.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Nope. Well, a few hours, but that’s about it.

  IsabellaMartinez: I know we’ve talked about this before, but I have to ask, do you think it’s time to go back to a doctor for your insomnia? Perhaps find someone who isn’t a complete quack and will actually help you, instead of just giving you medication and sending you home?

  Wincing, Erin read the message twice. If anyone else but Isabella had asked, she would’ve changed the subject or made a deflecting joke. Somehow, that seemed wrong when it came to Isabella.

  Their surprising honesty with each other had been a trademark of their relationship from the start. They both had characteristics challenged by the honesty they shared: her own tendency to run away from problems, and Isabella’s reluctance to be open and vulnerable. She shouldn’t back down from that now. Especially not when she was already avoiding the Alberto discussion.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Yeah. Probably. I’m scared of it, though.

  IsabellaMartinez: Frightened of doctors?

  BlackVelvetBitches: Nah, not doctors…psychiatrists. Someone with my past tends to have issues, and I don’t like to admit that I might have ’em. I’m the type who just lives with my hang-ups and keeps moving forward. Stopping to analyze my screwed-up brain scares me.

  IsabellaMartinez: I don’t think you are screwed up, Erin. I don’t think you have as much to fear from this as you think. But I understand and respect that you’re uncomfortable. Does this mean that you think your sleeplessness has to do with what you call your “issues?”

  Erin ran her hand through her hair and felt a lump forming in her throat.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Yeah.

  IsabellaMartinez: Want to talk to me about it? You don’t have to, of course. I can change the topic, if you like?

  She really didn’t want to talk about this. Tears welled in her eyes, and her breathing became shallow. She cleared her throat and tried to relax her shoulders.

  BlackVelvetBitches: No, I’ll try to answer. It started when I was a kid, but then it went away when I grew up and got my first home and some steady friends. A while ago, it came back.

  IsabellaMartinez: Thank you for telling me. Well, that raises two questions in my mind. 1. What happened to trigger the insomnia when you were a child? 2. Why did it suddenly come back?

  The tears fell, and Erin sniffed loudly, looking around for a tissue. She couldn’t help feeling embarrassed for crying at something so stupid.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Look, I’m crying now, and I really don’t want to do this. Not like this. Not right now. Is that okay?

  IsabellaMartinez: Of course, preciosa. I’m sorry. Just…think about those questions. Maybe one day soon, perhaps when we are face-to-face, we can talk about it a little more? Perhaps be casual about it and talk about it in little increments? Or maybe you prefer to talk to a therapist about it after all. Either way, don’t bury it again, now that it has come to the surface. Just let it stay in the back of your mind until you are ready to deal with it. Could you do that for me, Erin?

  Erin hugged her arms around herself and stared at Isabella’s words. Time ticked by as she tried to sort out her turmoil of emotions and figure out what to say. After a while, she loosened the grip and freed her arms to type.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Yeah. Okay. I won’t bury it, and we can talk about it again sometime. Just not now. I need to calm down. I don’t want to cry. I’m not very good at stopping once I start.

  IsabellaMartinez: I understand completely. I’m so sorry, preciosa. I wish I was there to give you a hug.

  Despite her sniffles, Erin felt herself smile, just a little.

  BlackVelvetBitches: You’d do that? Hug me?

  IsabellaMartinez: Of course. Talking about this is obviously difficult for you, and there is something big buried here. Something big enough to have you go through life sleep deprived instead of dealing with it. I wish I could help you. I wish I could comfort you.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Maybe you can soon. Well, at least the comfort part, and that’s what I want most. You’re going to your new place tomorrow, right? After that, we can start thinking about meeting up one day soon?

  IsabellaMartinez: Certainly. I still want to wait a little so that I can get Alberto settled and have a working home. Give me a day or two, and then I could have a visit from a certain New Yorker. We can meet up somewhere in town or at my apartment. As long as you don’t mind the moving-in mess.

  Erin went to blow her nose and let the idea of meeting Isabella lessen her anxiety, just a little. Feeling a smidge lighter, she typed her reply.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Are you kidding? I love mess. ;-)

  IsabellaMartinez: Don’t say that until you’ve seen the mess that can be created by vast amounts of baby paraphernalia cluttering up a room.

  Her improving mood slipped back into anxiety. Alberto. She’d meet Alberto then. That cute little kid who…terrified her. There were so many ways she could screw that one up. Erin took a deep breath and willed herself not to freak out. Not now. She changed the topic.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Speaking of the lil’ man and the two of you living alone, are you worried about being a single mom?

  IsabellaMartinez: Of course I am. I’m worried about being a parent in general. It’s a huge undertaking, and sometimes I worry I’m in over my head. But then, when you’ve gone through the ordeal of climbing the corporate ladder as a woman and as a Latina, you learn you can fight a hell of a lot harder than you thought. If I could survive growing up with my mother, getting into an Ivy League university, and becoming the CEO of a successful catering company, I can raise a child on my own too.

  She sat forward to read the words again with more focus. Erin felt her eyebrows raise.

  BlackVelvetBitches: You know, I never thought of that. Good point. If you don’t mind me asking, did you face any, like, discrimination? You know, for being a woman or for being Latina?

  It took a while before the reply came in, and Erin wondered if she had put her foot in it. Maybe it was insensitive to ask. Or maybe Isabella was disgusted at how her white privilege ha
dn’t made her consider what Isabella might have gone through.

  Soon, a long message popped up, and Erin realized, with relief, that it had taken a while to type.

  IsabellaMartinez: Oh, yes. I can think of a few examples right off the bat. I had a college lecturer who always assumed I and a Korean woman named Sun-Mi wouldn’t have any meaningful input in discussions. Later, when I’d worked my way up through the business, there were several people at work who met me and assumed I was a chef in one of the catering franchises, not the CEO of the whole company. Then there’s everyday ridiculous things, like people expecting my company to only provide Latin food because of my heritage. Or employees suggesting they be the face of a marketing campaign, because people would trust a white, male face more than mine. I had to fight to get to the top, and I had to fight to stay there. Sometimes, I had to fight dirty. That’s what I meant that night, when I said I’ve done things I’m not proud of to achieve my goals.

  There was a pause, and then another message came in, saving Erin from figuring out how to respond.

  IsabellaMartinez: Anyway, raising Alberto will probably be my biggest challenge. But after a whole pregnancy of doubting myself, I decided that I simply have to give it all I have and pray it will be enough. Being on my own hasn’t changed that. Richard was never a big part of Alberto’s life anyway. I was always more or less raising him on my own. And as I’m financially stable and don’t need to go back to work for quite a few years, I’m not in deep waters yet.

  BlackVelvetBitches: I’m sure you’ll do great. You’re smart, dedicated, and from what I’ve seen so far, you have a lot of love to give. You’re clearly over the moon about the kid. :-)

  IsabellaMartinez: I’m sure most mothers would be. But, yes, he means the world to me, and there’s nothing I won’t do to ensure he grows up safe and happy. I’ve come to realize that means letting other people into his life. Right now, he’s sleeping in my father’s arms while Daddy watches a baseball game on TV. I’ve been trying not to go down there and check on him, but I must admit I’m struggling.

  Erin smiled at the thought of Isabella fighting her super-strength maternal instinct by being on a different floor of the house than Alberto. She was proud of Isabella for making it this long.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Aw. Well, you’ve done nicely so far. I think you can allow yourself to go down there and be the mother hen. Your dad might want your help but not be able to call you coz it would wake the kid.

  IsabellaMartinez: Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. I should go down there immediately, just to make sure. Shall I text you when we’ve arrived in our apartment tomorrow?

  BlackVelvetBitches: Yep. Sounds good. :-) Enjoy the rest of the evening with your parents and the kid, and I’ll wait to hear from you tomorrow. Maybe I can call you when I leave work?

  IsabellaMartinez: I’d like that. Good night, preciosa.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Good night, Isabella. xo

  Erin sat back and contemplated the obstacles Isabella had overcome. Clearly, being born with a silver spoon in your mouth didn’t always mean you got an easy life. Even if Isabella had to make choices she wasn’t proud of, Erin was. Proud and impressed, and mightily pissed at how unfair the world could be.

  Her mind wandered to her sleeplessness and her fears about dating a mother. She squeezed her eyes shut and managed to ignore both issues, only to start fretting about that picture she’d included on the USB. Tomorrow, Isabella would be in her new home and find the package.

  Well, it was something different to worry about, but at least it was something she could deal with. Unlike her two other problems.

  Chapter 9

  Moving In

  The first-floor apartment looked sparse but bright and cozy in the afternoon light, and Isabella looked around appreciatively. Her parents had driven them over, and together they had eaten store-bought tuna Niçoise before taking the grand tour. The tour was short, as the apartment consisted of an open plan kitchen, dining, and living room, a bathroom, a small nursery, and a slightly larger bedroom.

  Since most of her capital was tied up until the Florida property sold, she’d been forced to choose a smaller place than she wanted. Nevertheless, for the moment, she was happy enough with a smaller home.

  Despite its petite size, both her parents were pleased. Her father liked the safe neighborhood and her mother the Victorian details; apparently they made the renovated apartment look grander and more expensive than it was.

  Isabella looked down at the baby bouncer next to her and watched her son examining his hands. Alberto seemed completely unaffected by his surroundings. As long as he had his mother, a full belly, and a clean diaper, he was fine.

  “Cariño, I think we’ll be happy here. Well, for a while, at least. You’ll soon outgrow your nursery, so we’ll move somewhere bigger. But, for now, welcome to our new home, Alberto.”

  He cooed at the sound of her voice, then went back to investigating his fingers.

  Isabella glanced around again. The movers had put all the furniture into the correct rooms, but nothing was where she wanted it. She’d have to start that project this evening.

  Her gaze fell on the box that was delivered while they were having lunch.

  It was most annoying that her mother had been the one to open the door and take in the package. She’d pointed out that it was posted from New York and asked Isabella who she knew there. “A friend, clearly sending a moving-in present,” Isabella replied. When Judith suggested she open it right away to see what was inside, Isabella feigned hunger and distracted her parents with lunch. However, she’d seen her mother cast long glances at the box on her way out to the car, when they left ten minutes ago.

  She checked Alberto was still happy, then located and opened a box of cutlery. Not finding any scissors, she picked up a knife and cut open the tape. Chuckling at the metal sign inside the box, she decided to find a fitting place to hang it, preferably somewhere her mother wouldn’t notice. The book made her laugh too, and the back stretches looked interesting. Then she found the USB stick and remembered that Erin had sent her some of her favorite music.

  Luckily, the movers had placed her computer in its box on top of the desk, which was haphazardly stuck in the furthermost corner of the living room. Isabella unpacked the computer and plugged it in. While it booted, she hummed a tuneless lullaby to entertain Alberto.

  When the computer was finally ready, Isabella connected to the Wi-Fi her mother had made sure was up and running before Isabella was even on the flight to Philadelphia. She plugged in the USB stick and waited for the computer to do what it needed to.

  “We’re going to put this in and listen to some of the music Erin likes,” Isabella told Alberto. “You remember Erin, don’t you? I know you haven’t seen her in a while, but we’ll video chat with her tonight. That will remind you of what she looks like.”

  He glanced in her general direction and then went back to gumming his little stuffed toy. Isabella smiled at him. She was only talking to him to help him get a feel for the sounds of language, but it amused her how many of her recent conversations with him were about Erin.

  Isabella opened the document folder. There were quite a few folders with different band names. There was also a JPEG named open_in_private. Isabella frowned and clicked open the top of a familiar set of chiseled abs and the full view of a pair of petite breasts covered by a white bra.

  She smiled from ear to ear.

  The picture Erin had taken of herself was oddly sweet—and definitely sexy. Biting her lip, Isabella picked up her phone and sent Erin a text.

  Me and Alberto are alone in the apartment now, and I just opened your package. I want to thank you for everything in it, but most of all, I want to talk about a certain picture. Bad girl! (Thank you so very much.) Want to video chat tonight? Alberto says he’s forgotten what you look like. Xx

  It didn’t take long befor
e Erin replied.

  Hey, beautiful. Welcome home. :-) I’m so glad you liked it. I had to get expert advice on if it was a bad idea, and, well, my advisor thought I should have been totally topless. So I’m not as much of a bad girl as I could have been. ;-) Tell Alberto I look like the Cookie Monster. Gotta get back to work before my client kills himself with a kettlebell. I’ll text you when I leave work. xo

  Isabella smiled at her phone. She couldn’t even imagine how she would’ve reacted to a naked Erin in that picture. Suddenly, she wondered if she could get Alberto to sleep during the video chat. She wanted to see those breasts completely exposed. And all hers to stare at.

  No. This was ridiculous. How was she supposed to stay single if she kept wanting Erin to strip for her? But, then, sexy chats didn’t have to mean romance, right? It could just be casual, no-strings-attached sex?

  She looked up at the ceiling and sighed in frustration. Maybe not between me and Erin. I really don’t know. Why is nothing ever easy

  Alberto fidgeted in his bouncer, whining in that way that always led to crying. Isabella hurried over to pick him up and rub his tummy.

  It was a little past six when Isabella’s phone rang, startling her. She’d been so busy moving her desk and listening to the music Erin sent her that she’d lost track of time.

  She hurried over and saw Erin’s name on the display. She answered with a quick, breathless, “Hello, stranger.”

  “Hey there, Ms. Writer. You doing okay in the new place?”

  Isabella could hear the sound of traffic in the background, and Erin sounded slightly out of breath, so she assumed Erin was power walking home.

  “I’m fine, yes. A bit stressed, as the movers have placed furniture and boxes erratically, but I suppose I should be happy everything’s all in the correct rooms. How are you? How was work today?”

  “Work was the same as always. The nice clients were fun; the annoying ones were pains in the ass. I’m doing good, better than good, now that I can talk to you. I missed the sound of your voice while you were at your parents’.”