Happy New You

by St John Brown, Brenda

  This is awful. No one will eat it.

  I came to get help from Mateo’s mom, hoping to create a signature dish; instead I’ve embarrassed myself in the middle of her kitchen. What else is new?

  I stare at the bubbling creamy rice in the pot—sorry, caldero—and bite my lip.

  “The raisins. Isn’t that part of the dish? I thought you told me arroz con dulce always has raisins in it. That some people add vanilla and milk to the dish, others don’t. But the one thing that’s consistent is the raisins and rice.”

  In a desperate attempt to win Mateo back, I called Dr. Ramirez. There’s a risk she knows her son wants nothing to do with me, but this is something I need to do.

  This isn’t about checking a resolution off my list. That seems easy compared to winning Mateo back. I want to impress him. Make him see that I think of him. That I would walk to the ends of the Earth to find ingredients for his favorite dessert.

  I didn’t have to travel that far. Just to Staten Island. If I’m being honest, I didn’t walk either. I took the ferry for punishment. Regardless, I’m here in his family home on a Sunday night, per Dr. Ramirez’s invitation, sweating over a hot stove to make sure the man I long for gets his favorite food.

  When I contacted Matty’s mom, I only expected to get the recipe, but she insisted I join her family for Sunday dinner. She promised to teach me the recipe if I arrived early. So, here I am, already mucking up what she refers to as one of the simplest dishes in Puerto Rico.

  “Not the raisins. Did you remove the cinnamon sticks, cloves, and ginger before adding the rice?”

  A nervous laugh erupts from my mouth. “I needed to remove them?”

  “Yes, I mentioned it at the beginning.”

  “My mind must have been elsewhere. Sorry.” I cringe at the pot.

  I’ve been doing that a lot lately. At work. At home. Ever since Mateo ended things, I’m lost. The way I treated him last week is shameful. The man has been nothing but sweet and supportive. What do I do? I go and ruin everything by accusing him of siding with Dani and then demeaning his job.

  My mistake at work is driving me to the edge, and I guess a part of me wanted Mateo to push me away. Congratulations, Al, you’re getting your wish.

  “Is there anything I can do to fix it?” My eyes plead with Matty’s adorable mother.

  Her warmth is reassuring as she grins. “Of course. Everything is fixable if you understand what you have. Here.” She hands me a slotted spoon and points to the caldero, “You had six cloves, five pieces of ginger, and three cinnamon sticks. You’ll need to remove them.”

  Straightening my shoulders, I get to work. Dr. Ramirez is right. Anything is fixable. Even my relationship with Mateo. I don’t mind sifting through the hot, steaming dessert to remove the little spices. If it brings a smile to the man I love, then it’s worth it.

  I gasp at the thought. Do I love Mateo?

  I miss him. Can’t stop thinking about him. Not just the sexy bits but his enthusiasm for life and need to care for the people around him. He’s a rare find in this gritty city. And I took advantage of all that is wonderful about him.

  I do love him, but do I deserve him? Only Matty can answer that question.

  I drift off with my thoughts when I realize Dr. Ramirez is speaking.

  “I wasn’t good at choking a chicken.”

  My eyes widen. “What?”

  Please tell me she’s not saying what I think she’s saying.

  “We visited my grandparents in Puerto Rico every year at Christmas. It was a tradition to kill a chicken and serve it for dinner. When I was eleven, my abuela thought it was time for me to learn how to choke the chicken. I ran and hid in the kitchen. The last thing I wanted to do was wrap my fingers around that scrawny thing as I twisted and pulled. I’ll never forget her disappointment when she had to choke the chicken herself.”

  That’s what I love about Matty’s mom, she always has such interesting stories. It’s nice to cook with family, well, close enough to family, and share memories. I haven’t visited Mateo’s family in years, but I see nothing has changed.

  She sighs happily, “I’m so glad you and Mateo are finally together. His father and I feared it would never happen. Which was surprising considering how long he’s had feelings for you.”

  I swivel my head in her direction, “What do you mean?”

  Our time together this year has brought us closer, but I never knew he thought of me like that, before.

  “He first told me about how much he cared for you after prom.” Her cheeks warm with the curve of her mouth. “When he came home from prom, he had the biggest smile on his face. He said he was sure you liked him too. I know most boys keep these things from their parents, but Mateo knows love is nothing to be ashamed of. But, by the next day, he said you two were only friends.”

  My mind races with a smattering of memories from prom night. I don’t have much to go on because I got really drunk. Mad that Logan, the guy I wanted to take me, ended up going with Sarah Bianchi. I didn’t have a big enough rack for him to settle his unusually large jock head on.

  What else don’t I remember from that night?

  “Yes, friends,” I mumble, no longer focusing on the pot.

  “His father thought when you went to law school together, it would rekindle something. But here we are so many years later, and finally, you two have come to your senses.” She walks over to pinch my cheek. “Es bonita. It does a mother’s heart good to know her son is with a good woman who treats him right.”

  I didn’t think I could get any more pathetic than this past Monday night when I started crying at a hemorrhoid commercial because the man and woman were holding hands in a park. But now I know. To feel more rotten than a rat’s tooth feeding on a mountain of sugar, have a conversation with a Puerto Rican mother.

  There’s a knock at the door before I can think too much about the similarities between Dr. Ramirez and my own mother.

  “Oh, he’s here,” Dr. Ramirez announces.

  I stay in the kitchen and try to steel my emotions. Did I make a mistake coming here? I hope not.

  “Mijo!” I hear his mom say, so much love filling that one word.

  “Mami. It’s so good to see you.”

  Reaching up, I swipe at a stray tear as my heart fills with confusion. My hands need something to do, or I’ll go crazy. Despite the instructions from Matty’s mom, I stir the pot as it simmers. Maybe I can hide in the kitchen for the rest of the night.

  “We have a guest, Mateo.”

  That’s my cue. I brace myself and plaster on a smile before leaving the kitchen. The tips of my ears burn as I watch him give a warm smile to his mother.

  I feel exactly as I did right before we kissed for the first time. A charge in the air that could ignite or fizzle. My fingers twist together, hoping tonight it’s the former.

  Matty’s brown eyes widen as they lift to mine, and for a split second, he frowns. Perhaps everything will fizzle.

  “Hi, Matty.”

  “Al, I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  It hurts to watch him fake a smile, so I turn my head and chew on my bottom lip.

  “She wanted to learn how to make your favorite dish,” his mother interjects. “Now that’s a good woman. Make sure to take care of her, love. Come in, out of the chill.”

  I stand against the wall as he moves inside. His mother is fussing over her son, helping him remove his coat as if he’s still five. It’s loving, and I feel entirely out of place.

  “Mateo!” his father booms as he strides out of the family room.

  “Papa.”

  More affection on display as the two men embrace. Matty looks exactly like a younger version of his father.

  I’m about to step back into the kitchen when someone tugs my arm. “You two,” his dad says as he pushes Matty and me together. “Your mother and I are so grateful you finally captured the heart of this woman.”

  Mateo clears his throat, and I wonder where to pu
t my hands again. My arm jerks up and down as I contemplate resting my hand on his back. That’s when I realize Mateo hasn’t told his parents we broke up, or I would never have been invited over, but it’s not my place to say anything.

  “There were so many distractions. Capturing her heart has been hard to do.” Matty’s eyes slide to mine.

  “We can talk about it more at the table. It’s time to eat.” His mother’s hands flutter about the air, trying to get everyone moving.

  After I remove the arroz con dulce from the stove to cool, I help the family set the table. Everyone plays a part while Mateo’s mom acts as the manager directing us around.

  The food is delicious with a spicy roasted chicken and a stewed bean dish I can’t even begin to pronounce. I’m thankful most of the talk focuses on Mateo’s gym. It’s nice to hear him boast about himself. He’s always encouraging others, so it’s refreshing to listen to him brag about his own accomplishments.

  I give myself yet another mental kick for not being there last week to see his new space. The way he speaks about it, I almost want to open a gym myself.

  “Now it’s time for Allison’s special dessert,” Dr. Ramirez announces, drawing everyone’s attention to me.

  I give a tight-lipped smile as I rise from my chair. If I open my mouth, I’ll puke on the table, and all over this delicious food. I’ve built this moment up in my head so much that if I fail, it would be worse than being fired from Benson, Hyatt, and Menski.

  My job doesn’t care about me. Not really. Their only concern is if the clients are happy. It’s not that the law firm treats the workers poorly, but it’s a company. Their main concern is the bottom line. Matty’s top interest is making people around him happy and healthy.

  Why didn’t I see this a week ago or ten months ago or ten years ago?

  Once I enter the kitchen I see my dessert, now in a beautiful serving dish with gold trim. Mateo’s mom must have transferred the dessert into the dish to cool while we were setting the table before dinner.

  I take a deep breath before I mutter, “You got this, Allison.”

  If that’s true, why is my voice cracking?

  No time for self-pity. I lift the plate and bring it to the table. A few claps and I look up. His father and mother are applauding as if I’m their daughter here to win their hearts and stomachs. Mateo stares at the dessert, and for the first time since I’ve known him, his face is unreadable.

  “Dig in. I promise it’s kosher. No raisins were harmed in the making of this dish.” I snort at my joke.

  My hands tremble as I take each of their dessert plates and scoop out a portion. The last one I dish up is Mateo’s. A shiver runs up my arm as our fingers touch. His eyes flutter to mine, and I swear I see heat. It can’t be my imagination.

  Before I can be sure, he takes the plate, lowering his gaze to his food.

  But that tiny moment gives me hope. I take a spoonful and lift it to my lips.

  “Mmm. It’s delicious, Allison,” Mr. Ramirez says with a soft smile.

  “I must agree with my husband. I fear I taught you too well, Allison. It might be better than mine.”

  “Never, Mami. Nothing is as good as yours. But they're right, Al. It’s wonderful.”

  I’m not even listening to Mateo’s words because the wink he just gave me when his mother wasn’t looking is worth more than anything he could say. It’s working. He must realize how hard I’ve worked to show him I care.

  There isn’t much talk as everyone gobbles up the arroz con dulce. Mateo volunteers to clean the dishes and I decide to help. It’s the perfect opportunity to proclaim my love and win him back. The old Allison would roll her eyes and accuse me of sounding like a cheesy Hallmark movie. But not Allison 2.0. She’ll admit that love matters and happily watch a cheesy holiday movie, shedding a tear by the end. This is true because it happened this past Tuesday, but Matty doesn’t need to know that.

  “Your arroz con dulce was better than my mom’s, but don’t tell her I said that.” Mateo leans over with soapy hands, passing me a plate.

  “Thank you. I tried.”

  It’s now or never. I take a deep breath and put the dish down to face him.

  “I’m sorry, for last week. This whole year. I’ve been a selfish asshole.”

  “Yup.” He nods and keeps on scrubbing the dishes.

  “I had no idea you’ve had feelings for me since high school. Why didn’t you ever say anything to me?”

  Mateo stops and removes his hands from the sudsy water. “How did you find out about that?” He turns, and the hurt in his eyes knocks me sideways.

  “Your mom. But that doesn’t matter. Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because after prom, you made it quite clear that we were only friends. We both had too much to drink that night and I mistook your drunken hugs for something more. I might have mentioned... Uh, nothing. It doesn’t matter. It was high school. We’re adults now. Time to move on, right?”

  I reach for his arm, but he steps back.

  “Please, Al, don’t.”

  “Mentioned what, Matty? I’m not leaving until you tell me.”

  “That I love you, okay?” He gives me a defeated look. “I loved you then, and I love you now. But just because you love someone doesn’t mean they’re good for you.”

  Unable to move, I’m helpless to watch the man I just now realize I’d do anything for, rip me apart.

  “You take, Al. And take and take and take. But I can’t give anymore. Other things in my life require my attention. Things that won’t take so much from me. Yes, I love you, but I can’t be with you.”

  He wipes his hands on a rag and leaves me standing there in front of the running sink.

  And just like that, my attempt to woo Matty back with arroz con dulce feels transparent and pathetic. My dream of making junior partner feels shallow. But it’s my heart that’s shattering into a million little pieces, leaving a gaping Matty-shaped hole in my chest as he turns his back and walks out of the kitchen, and out of my life. Again.

  28

  Mateo

  November

  If I move any slower through my apartment, I’ll miss the event, which really isn’t what I want. I have a reputation to uphold even if my heart currently feels like it’s being trampled by all the people running in this damn obstacle course race that’s happening this morning. Today is Allison’s work event. You know, the one we’d been training for all year.

  Up until we broke up four weeks ago.

  I hustle to layer on all my clothes, including long johns under my track pants. Marla, the event coordinator, didn’t outright ask, but hinted around that showing off some muscles might be a nice addition to my local celebrity involvement in the race. If I have to go topless to earn my paycheck, I’ll be doing it with plenty of layers on my lower half to keep the precious goods warm and toasty on this cold day.

  My mind instantly goes to the dinosaur onesie Allison made me wear. I’m sure that thing would keep me warm, but I refuse to think about her right now. I grab my phone and head out the door to my dad’s car, which I borrowed for today’s event, needing to get there before the race contestants start showing up. If I let my mind wander to Al, I might just sit at home in a (very manly) puddle of tears and self-loathing like I have been for the past four weeks.

  Other than the awkward dinner at my parents’ house, I haven’t seen Allison since we broke up. I’d gotten used to seeing her every day, either for workouts or for stolen moments in her bed when she got home late from work. As much as I’m hurting without her, the space is giving me the clarity I need. While I admitted I loved her, probably—okay fine, totally—still love her, the way she treated our relationship isn’t something I can live with. I deserve better. She deserves better.

  But I can't make her change. She has to do that herself.

  So, like every morning for the last twenty-nine days, I paste on a smile and fake it till I make it. I rush out of the car and wind my way through the vendo
rs setting up. It’s an awesome sight to see all these brightly colored inflatable obstacles being installed, turning a plain field into a playground for adults. Being the celebrity host isn’t exactly the job of my dreams, but I remind myself of the gym currently coming together with the involvement of Dakota and her deep pockets. Everything I’ve been working so hard for is finally coming to fruition.

  Except one thing.

  “Nope, not going there,” I say out loud. Yep, I’m now talking to myself.

  “Mateo! So glad you’re here! Let’s get you over to the grandstand to start welcoming the participants.” Marla rushes up out of nowhere, her festive pink tutu already ripped and a healthy sheen to her forehead. She’s working her ass off to make sure this event goes without a hitch. The least I can do is be the cheerful host she’s paying me to be.

  I’m already sixty minutes into my hosting duties, getting the crowd pumped up with my jokes, my warm-up advice, and maybe a flex or two here and there, when I feel a tingle climb up my spine. My spidey senses tell me Allison is near, but I don’t see her in the throng of faces below my stage.

  As embarrassing as it is to admit, especially when I’m the one who broke up with her, I feel the sudden urge to really show her what she’s missing, you know? So I flex like every guy does when in front of the bathroom mirror, giving it everything I’ve got, maybe a few hip gyrations thrown in for good measure. The catcalls are hitting the stage like underwear at a rock concert.

  Then the horn blares, starting the race and killing everyone’s eardrums, and I nearly fall off the platform. I’m so cold in the early morning air, the blush that races up my face feels kinda nice. Nothing like doing your first striptease and having everyone run away to damage a guy’s ego. Never mind they were running to start their race.

  I slip on my shirt and shade my face. Scanning the back of everyone’s head, I try to find Allison. I’m just starting to doubt my spidey senses when I spot her, her golden brown braid whipping back and forth as she runs with Dani and two others I don’t recognize at her side. She’s going pretty fast, even with the giant turkey hat on her head and feather tail tied somehow to the back of her brown leggings. I knew her team was going as a pack of turkeys, but I didn’t realize their costumes would be so hideous. I mean, seriously, the feathers look like those paper cutouts we made in first grade at Thanksgiving time. Although, this is the girl who loves animal onesies, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.