Little White Lie

by Lea Santos

Emie turned slowly and their gazes met and held. If she didn’t know better, she could swear Gia looked as if she wanted to close the distance between them and kiss her. But how could that be when she’d been avoiding her like a communicable disease for the past several days? Emie’s panic revved, urging her to flee before she threw herself at Gia. The compliment wrapped around her like a hug. “Thank you,” she said finally, reaching up to tuck a lock of hair that didn’t need to be tucked behind her ear. “I like them.”

  *

  Gia rubbed her palms together and glanced around the kitchen. “All right, Sous Chef Mendez at your service and ready to cook. What can I do?”

  Golden light softened the edges of the room and Norah Jones’s mellifluous voice permeated the air. Emie wore a long, fluttery wine-colored skirt covered in little blue flowers and a matching blue T-shirt. A flour sack apron covered most of the outfit, and the “hominess” of it cheered Gia. Emie’s sandals exposed shiny clear-polished toenails, and the whole room smelled like her signature lavender scent. The situation—and the company—was so conducive to romance, Gia thanked God that Paloma and the boys would arrive soon to act as a buffer.

  “Hmm, well, you can pour us each a glass of wine, and then it’s your choice.” She gestured with a chef’s knife. “Season the steaks, chop the carrots, toss the salad, or fix the potatoes. Dessert is already finished.”

  “I make a killer glazed carrot,” Gia said, opening one cupboard, then another until she happened upon the wine goblets. She slipped two stems between her fingers and lowered them on the countertop. “How about I make those and the steaks, you take care of the salad and potatoes?”

  “Deal.”

  They worked in companionable silence for several minutes until most of the prep work was done. Emie picked up her wineglass and sat gratefully in a chair, rotating her ankles. “Nothing else to do until they arrive,” she said. “I don’t want to overcook the meat.”

  Gia took the chair across from her. “It feels good to relax, yeah?” She glanced around, shoulders raising, then dropping with a sigh. “I like your house.”

  “What a nice thing to say.” Emie smiled. “I like it, too. Especially since you’ve fixed all the little irritations lately. You know, you didn’t have to do that.”

  Gia shrugged off her compliment. “De nada.”

  Emie glanced at the clock, hoping Paloma had gotten the kids bustled into the car without much trouble. “I have to warn you, Paloma’s boys are picky eaters. And that may be an understatement.” She twisted her mouth to the side. “I never know from one day to the next what they’ll like.”

  “Eh, kids. I was one once.” She sipped from her wineglass, studying her over the rim. “How’s Pep, by the way?”

  “Well, I know you don’t like praise, but Paloma says he’s more upbeat than he’s been in a long time”—a pause ensued—“ever since you talked to him.”

  “I’m glad,” Gia said, but a shadow crossed over her expression and she changed the subject quickly. “Tell me about Paloma’s wife. Deanne, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” Emie flipped her hand and leaned the back of her head against the wall. “Not much to say, really. Deanne and Paloma have been together since we were all in eighth grade, if I remember correctly. The only lesbian couple in our school who were out and didn’t care about the talk.” She bracketed those words with air quotes. “They were the perfect couple, you know? And eventually almost everybody accepted them. We always knew they’d be together forever.” She crossed her legs, rustling her skirt.

  “But…?” Gia urged.

  Emie sipped, wondering how Gia had known she had more to say. “It’s just my opinion, and I would never say anything to Paloma, but Deanne doesn’t pay attention to her like she used to. I know she has a busy, demanding job—”

  “She works the street?”

  Emie nodded, eyes focused on her wineglass. She twirled the stem in her fingers thoughtfully. “She probably always will. Likes the adrenaline rush, I guess. Anyway, if you ask me, Dee takes Paloma and the kids for granted.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  “They’ll work it out.” She set her glass aside and met Gia’s gaze squarely. “They always do.”

  Gia reached across the table and covered Emie’s hand with her own. “What about you, querida? Why haven’t you settled down with the perfect woman?”

  A deep flush rose to Emie’s face. Where the heck had that come from? “I guess I haven’t found the perfect woman.”

  A smile invited her dimple. “The standard answer.”

  “Okay, the truth?” Emie sniffed and withdrew her hand, a little self-conscious but not wanting to hide herself. This was her—a wallflower. An outsider. Single by choice. If Gia was truly her friend, it wouldn’t matter. She twisted her mouth to the side. “I’ve never been in a serious relationship.”

  “Never?”

  Emie shook her head. “In high school…no one asked me out. Then there was college and graduate school. I just…got busy. Or, you know, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.” She huffed a humorless little laugh and couldn’t quite keep her gaze locked with Gia’s. “Pretty pathetic, huh?”

  Gia scooted her chair closer and lifted Emie’s chin with a gentle finger. “If you’re pathetic, I’m pathetic, Em.”

  Emie blinked several times. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m saying, I’ve done my share of dating, but I’ve never been in love, either.”

  “I don’t believe it.” She gaped.

  Gia shrugged. “I have no reason to lie to you about it.”

  “But…but, why? Why haven’t you fallen in love?” she sputtered. “There’s no reason a woman like you—”

  “There’s that ‘woman like you’ stuff again.” She shook her head, playfully stern. “You know what I’d like, Emie? If you could stop putting me in some mental category and just see me. Gia. For who I am, not who you think I should be.”

  Heat rose to her neck, and she almost hiccupped. God. God, Gia was right—Emie was a stereotyping jerk. “You’re absolutely…I’m sorry. I don’t mean it as an insult.”

  “I know, and it’s okay. All I’m trying to tell you is, we all have our reasons for avoiding intimacy. You have yours, I have mine.” Gia paused and sandwiched both of Emie’s hands between her own, caressing the soft knuckles. “Stop thinking you’re so different, Profé. Hardly anyone finds her true love in high school like Paloma did. I didn’t and you didn’t, and you know what? We’re okay in my book.”

  Before Emie could delve into Gia’s profound revelation, the sound of her front door opening broke the mood.

  “Auntie Emie!” screamed Teddy from the front room.

  Emie and Gia moved apart as tiny footsteps pummeled toward them. They shared a private smile when they heard Paloma hollering at the boys not to run in the house. Moments later, they found themselves wrapped in Pep’s and Teddy’s exuberant hugs.

  A whirlwind of greetings, laughter, and exclamations of near-fatal hunger ensued. By the time Paloma had the boys settled around the table, the house was fragrant with the mingled scents of grilling steaks and savory side dishes. Emie had just poured herself and Gia a second glass of wine. She offered one to Paloma, as well, then poured milk for the boys. Gia put the finishing touches on the steaks and carried them to the cloth-draped table. Paloma led grace—something she was trying to teach the boys—then they began passing dishes.

  “I’m not eatin’ those,” said Teddy. He stared with abject disgust at the bowl of glazed carrots before him. A recalcitrant cowlick stood up from his crown when he bent forward and scrunched his nose. “Betchtables make me sick.”

  “Yuck. I don’t want ’em either,” Pep added, stretching up from his seat of honor next to Gia to peer across the table into the serving bowl. His bruises had faded to nothing more than flat yellowish reminders of his problems.

  “Teodoro, that’s rude,” Paloma scolded, her cheeks red with parental embarrassment. She glanced apologet
ically at Emie. “You’ll eat what your auntie cooked, young man, or you’ll go hungry.” She fixed a death glare on her older son and flicked her hand toward the CorningWare. “Pep, I expect you to set the example for your brother. Now take some carrots.”

  Pep’s small chin quivered with the horrific burden of having to set such an example. “Mama, please don’t make me. They’re orange.”

  “Actually, I didn’t cook them,” Emie cut in, hoping to aid Paloma in the battle. She smiled at the boys as she smoothed her napkin on her lap. “Gia did. They’re glazed, which means they have butter and brown sugar on them.”

  “Did you really cook ’em, Gia?” Pep asked, his tone grave. He clearly disbelieved that the woman he’d come to revere would stoop so low as to cook the offensive items for dinner.

  “I sure did.”

  “They’re still betchtables no matter who cooked ’em,” muttered Teddy, slumping back in his chair and pulling his feet up onto the seat.

  “Feet down, young man.”

  Teddy did as he was told.

  Paloma’s eyes blazed. “You boys should be ashamed of yourselves acting like this. Apologize to Gia and Aunt Emie right now.”

  “So-o-orry,” they groused with a distinct lack of sincerity.

  “It’s okay. Could you please—” Gia motioned for the bowl. Emie reached in front of Teddy and passed the carrots to Gia, who sneaked her a conspiratorial wink. “Thanks.” She turned her attention to the boys’ mother. “Carrots are superhero food, Paloma. I don’t guess these guys are grown up enough to have any, which means, great—more for me. Mmm mmm mmm,” she added, dishing up a large serving.

  “Superhero food? Wha—? Oh. Right,” Paloma said, catching on quickly after her moment of confusion. “I’d almost forgotten.” Her eyes tracked Gia, unsure of the woman’s next move but clearly willing to follow her lead.

  Emie slanted a glance at the boys, who watched Gia with a rapturous combination of worship and horror. “But you didn’t eat ’em when you were a kid, right, Gia?” Pep asked, in a please-don’t-burst-my-bubble tone.

  Gia raised her eyebrows while she finished chewing, then swallowed. “You kidding? I ate them all the time. Of course, I had special permission to eat superhero food because I wanted to grow up to have super powers.” She flexed her arm, drawing every eye in the room to those toned, cut biceps.

  Paloma gawked with unabashed approval, then stared pointedly at Emie, who only scowled in return. Pep’s jaw dropped, and he peered into the carrot bowl with renewed interest. “What do they taste like?”

  “You’ll find out once you’re old enough to try them.” Gia popped a couple more carrots in her mouth, making yummy noises as she chewed.

  Pep pondered this. “When’s that?”

  “You have to be at least ten, don’t you think, Auntie?”

  Emie bit her lip to hold back the smile and nodded. Gia Mendez was an absolute genius.

  “I’m almost ten,” Pep said, his gaze fixed longingly on the carrots. “I’m six, an’ that’s pretty close to ten.”

  “Mama, do you really hafta be ten to eat ’em?” Teddy stage whispered, his tone plaintive. “That’s not fair, Pep’s not ten.”

  “Not close enough, chavalito,” Gia said to Pep, pretending not to have heard little Teddy. “Sorry.”

  Pep clicked his tongue and pouted.

  Gia adjusted in her chair. “But I guess if you really want some, we can give you a couple on the sly.”

  The boy’s face brightened. “For reals?”

  Gia pretended to ruminate. She sucked in one side of her cheek and shook her head. “On second thought, I don’t want to break the superhero rules.”

  “Aw, c’mon, Gia.” Pep bounced. “No one’ll know. Mama and Auntie Emie won’t tell, will ya?”

  They both shook their heads.

  “Please?” came Teddy’s piteous voice.

  “You want some, too, little buddy?”

  “Yeah,” Teddy said, his eyes round. He sat on his hands.

  Gia pulled a shocked face before glancing from Emie to Paloma. “What do you two think? Should we break the rules?”

  Paloma couldn’t speak; she covered her mouth with the side of her fist to hold in the laughter.

  Emie cleared her throat. “Well, Teddy’s four and Pep’s six. If we add those together, that equals ten.” She shrugged.

  “I hadn’t thought of that. Guess that’s why you’re the scientist, Em.” Gia quirked her mouth to the side and toyed with the idea while the boys sat still as statues. When the tension was sufficiently high, she relented. “Okay. Just this once, you can have carrots.”

  “Yay!” Pep and Teddy cheered in stereo as Paloma dished carrots up on their plates. She cast Gia a wry glance. “Woman, I don’t know where you’ve been hiding yourself, but you are a G-O-D-D-E-S-S. I bow and scrape in your presence.”

  Gia laughed, jerking her chin toward the boys who were no longer paying attention to the conversation. “Naw, I was just a picky eater myself long ago. I know what it takes.”

  “Well, honey, you can eat with us any day.”

  Gia cut into her steak, then cast a glance at Emie. There was that “rescued by a gallant knight” look again.

  *

  The dinner had been a complete success. After Gia pulled the brilliant reverse-carrot-psychology trick on the boys, endearing herself to Paloma, she completely won Pep and Teddy over by taking them outside to sit in her much-coveted truck. She even revved the engine. She was the perfect guest and a wonderful friend. Emie liked her more now than she ever had.

  Paloma had taken the kids home early, leaving Emie and Gia to share coffee on the back porch before calling it a night. The full moon cast a silvery glow over the yard, and a cool breeze swept over them. Emie closed her eyes and reveled in the near-perfect moment, wrapping her palms around her warm mug. “That was fun. It turned out good.”

  “I’ll say. I’m stuffed,” Gia said, patting her stomach. The lawn chair creaked as she adjusted her position. “I never should’ve had the second slice of chocolate cream pie.”

  Emie rolled her face toward Gia, feeling more relaxed in her company than she usually did. She liked being with her like this, without the makeover scheme or Elizalde or memories of the Barry Stillman fiasco getting in the way. “What’s a little self-indulgence now and then?”

  “True, but I’ll never be able to sleep feeling like this.” She grimaced. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those irritatingly self-controlled eaters who always leaves your last bite on the plate.”

  Emie laughed, deciding not to answer the playful question. “We could go for a walk, if you’d like. God knows I could use the exercise.”

  “Yeah? I’d love to.” Gia stood, adjusting the waistband of her jeans as though they barely reached around her trim waist. “Let’s do it before I burst.”

  After locking up the house, they meandered down the shadow-striped sidewalk talking about this and that, nothing important. They reached a particularly dark corner and Gia glanced around. “How safe is this neighborhood?”

  “Relatively,” she answered. “I wouldn’t walk at night alone.” She paused. “But I feel pretty safe with you.”

  Gia smiled and wound her arm around Emie’s shoulders, pulling her closer. “You always say the right things, querida.”

  It didn’t bother Emie one bit when Gia let her arm remain. “I always say the right things? What about that whole ‘carrots are a superhero food’ action you came up with? How brilliant was that? Did you see Pep and Teddy gobbling those vegetables?”

  “Betchtables,” Gia corrected her.

  Emie chuckled.

  “That was a good ploy, if I do say myself.” Gia blew smugly on her fingernails and buffed them on the shoulder of Emie’s shirt.

  “I’ll say.” Emie reached up to adjust her phantom glasses, but stopped halfway and dropped her hand. She chuckled. “I can’t get used to not having glasses on my face.”

  “You can always go
back to wearing them.”

  She chose to ignore that rather than launch back into the “you look good in goggles” conversation. “I know you don’t like me praising you, Gia, but I can’t help it. Thank you for tonight, for showing the boys the truck, for just…everything.”

  “De nada. I like them. They’re weird little creatures, children.”

  “I know. That’s what makes them so fun.” Emie peered up at Gia’s profile. “How’d you get to be so good with kids?”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t know I was. Like I’ve said before, I haven’t really been around them much. I suppose I just”—she paused, running a palm slowly down her own face—“remember growing up, how hard childhood was. I sympathize with them.”

  Emie navigated the cracked and buckled sidewalk, perplexed by this enigmatic woman’s winsome words. She didn’t understand. Her own childhood had been wonderful, her parents doting and supportive. But she wasn’t so naïve as to believe everyone’s youth had been idyllic. She wanted to push Gia to tell her what she’d meant, but didn’t want to pry. They crossed the street and came upon the deserted elementary school campus.

  “Is this Pep’s school?”

  “No. Deanne and Paloma don’t live in this neighborhood.” Emie studied the playground through the chain-link fence. The loose tetherball chains clanged and pinged against the poles, their song eerily desolate. Swings drifted gently, and tiny children’s footprints still marred the sand at the bottom of the slide.

  Childhood shouldn’t be difficult.

  That it might have been for Gia made Emie profoundly sad.

  Before she could say anything, Gia grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the equipment. “Come on. It’s been a long time since I’ve gone down the slide.”

  “Are you serious?”

  Gia grinned. “Cut loose, Em. Last one to the slide is a rotten egg.”

  “No fair, I’m wearing sandals. You’re wearing boots.”

  “Chicken!”

  Emie’s jaw dropped, and her inner child burst forth. “I know you are, but what am I?” She shoved Gia with all her might, taking advantage of her stumbling to launch into a full sprint. Gia took off after her, eventually passing her.