Beantown Cubans

by Johnny Diaz

  “Speaking of types, what’s going to happen with you and Mike? Inquiring Cuban teachers from Miami want to know.”

  “Carlos, I don’t want to talk about Mikey tonight. We’re here to have fun and celebrate Christmas and our families. Let’s focus on tonight and us,” Tommy demurs, deflecting from the subject at hand. I notice every now and then, he checks his cell phone for new text messages. I bet he’ll stay with Mikey, which is fine, but part of me believes that we should date people who balance and nurture us. With Mikey, Tommy plays the rescuer. It’s a lot of work. Tommy doesn’t need that. No one does.

  As we sit back and watch the flowing herd of beautiful muscled Latin men, Tommy and I savor the moment.

  I offer our traditional toast.

  “To us, the Beantown Cubans in Miami.”

  “To good friends!” Tommy returns the toast with his Diet Coke and vodka. “And may Ray Martinez and his little boyfriend break up!” Tommy announces a little too loudly. Ray Martinez and the guys at his table glance our way. Embarrassed, I shyly grin and wave.

  Ay, que loco.

  28

  Carlos

  SPRING

  “Wake up, wake up, Carlito. Today is the big day!” I open my eyes and catch Mami standing by the edge of my bed. She’s wearing her favorite sage green dress that she only wore on special occasions. A white gardenia flower is tucked behind her left ear.

  “Ay, Mami! Five more minutes. I just need five more minutes of sleep.” I pull the covers over my face. I hear her high-heeled shoes echo against my wooden floors as she walks toward me. She yanks my comforter and whispers, “You don’t want to be late. The school is waiting.”

  “I know, but I’m nervous.” I lift myself and sit upright on my bed.

  “But why? You talk in front of your students all the time. Why is this any different? You will just have the entire school there.”

  I let myself collapse back on my bed. My hands cover my eyes.

  “Ay, Mami, don’t remind me.” She tilts her head and smiles. She grabs my hands and pulls me up. Mami gently drags me to the stand-up mirror near my window that overlooks the other Cambridge triple-deckers. As I stand before the mirror, Mami scoots to my closet and grabs my navy blue suit and tie. She hands them to me while she sits down on the corner of the bed.

  I start to slip on my slacks.

  “Mami, why are you all dressed up? You look different from the other times.” Through the mirror’s reflection, I see her sitting on the edge of the bed and watching me get ready.

  “You don’t need me anymore.”

  “Mami, of course I need you. You’re my mother. I love you. I don’t know what I would have done this first year in Boston without you.” I button up my white dress shirt and tuck it into my slacks.

  “But your life is on track again. You and your Papi have found each other. You’re happy again. You love your work and your life in Boston. It’s time for me to move on.”

  I turn around and face her. She stands up and adjusts my tie.

  “Does this mean that I’ll never see you again?”

  “I don’t know, Carlito, but I promise you this: You will have a great life. You have done so much more than I or your father have ever done. You have become a man I admire. ‘’ She tightens my tie and smooths out my collar.

  She grabs my jacket and helps me put it on. We both face the mirror. She stands behind me and rests her beautiful face against my left shoulder.

  “Where will you go, Mami?”

  “I don’t know, but whatever happens, always remember that I love you and I am with you.”

  I touch the top of her left hand as it rests against my shoulder. I lean my head against hers. We match the pose in the framed photograph that sits on my nightstand.

  My radio alarm clock buzzes and jolts me awake. I glance around my room. Mami is gone. A gentle spring breeze blows through my bedroom window. Shafts of morning sunlight drill through the window and cast dancing shadows on my floor. A chorus of birds sing. A lavender fragrance perfumes the room. I look to my bedroom door and notice my suit hangs against it. I lift myself out of bed and begin my day.

  It is after school. The final bell has rung and I’m ready for my presentation. Dozens of students and faculty have gathered in front of Dorchester High’s main entrance along the patch of land that has been long abandoned but is not anymore.

  Twirling one of his curly hairs, Tommy stands in the front row and gives me a thumbs-up. He mouths, “You look great, chico!” He beams his trademark happy-go-lucky smile. I like seeing him like this again. Although he broke up with Mikey after the New Year, Tommy has slowly bounced back to his old self. He still misses Mikey, but he realized that he can only do so much for the guy. Mikey had to take care of himself and so did Tommy. I respect Tommy even more for walking away from someone he loved so dearly. I guess that old saying is true: When you love someone enough, you let them go and set them free. Tommy loved himself more. Tommy tapped into an inner well of strength and courage to walk away from Mikey this second time around. He has healed slowly but surely from the split. These last few months, Tommy has rechanneled all that energy into his creative writing. He just finished writing his book, and I look forward to reading the rough draft. Another positive note, now I get Tommy all to myself.

  Next to Tommy is Papi and Lourdes, who flew up for this special event. Papi looks so cute in his brown slacks and white dress shirt. The sun gleams against his bald head. It’s not too warm, a cool 65 degrees. Perfect. The earthy smell of fresh mulch scents the immediate air.

  Papi and I have come a long way this past year. We have gradually developed a more solid relationship. When I visit Coral Gables, I do my best to spend time with him even if it involves baseball. At times, I catch myself feeling down. I don’t think I will ever be the same since Mami died, and I have accepted that. I don’t think anyone really gets over the loss of a loved one. But at least I know that I have one parent I can count on and the love of my sister and friends. This school project has also helped soothe that current of sadness that has weighed on me this past year, but I will get to that momentarily.

  I’m trying to make up for all those times Papi wanted to spend quality time with me when I was younger. Three weeks ago, I attended a Florida Marlins game with him in Miami. I still don’t know what happens on the field, but I make the most of it. At the house, I’ve recruited him to help restore the garden. I made him promise to speak to the plants—just as Mami did—when he waters them. At first, he resisted, but he eventually surrendered. The concept seems to be working because Nena, the gardenia tree, has sprung back to life with white bulbous flowers. This weekend, we’re planning to attend a Red Sox game, my first. Tommy plans to come with us, which will make it more fun. He will also help me surprise Papi by introducing him to Cuban player Mike Lowell after the game. Tommy is writing a profile on the baseball player and has access to him in the locker room. Papi will be so excited. I can’t wait to see the look on his face.

  Back at the front of my four-story school, Lou stands and chats with Papi. She wears a light peach dress that complements her light brown straight hair, which falls to her shoulders, the way Mami’s did. They both wave to me, and I nod and smile back. Also in the crowd is Dr. Bella Solis, beaming with pride even though she sports a pair of large and oval-shaped Jackie O sunglasses. I’m glad Dr. Bella is here because she was the one who gave me the idea to honor Mami this way. Behind her stands a tall figure with blonde curly hair. I am puzzled to recognize reality TV star Kyle. He waves his right arm and shouts “Yoo hoo!” and flashes his signature Joker’s smile. I fake a smile back and wonder, why is he here? Ay, Kyle! Oh well, the more the merrier.

  I stand in front of this new lush garden that bursts with prime roses, petunias, lilies, hibiscus flowers, and hydraganeas. The flowers’ radiant colors brighten the front of the plain brick school and make it more welcoming to students, fellow teachers, and our neighbors. A circle of bricks rings the garden, which is ne
ar our flag pole. A yellow butterfly flutters over the petunias and then to the lilies. With everyone gathered, I step up to the podium, unclench my fists, and speak into the microphone.

  “Hi, and welcome to Dorchester High. My name is Carlos Martin, and I’m a teacher here. I want to thank you all for being here on this beautiful April day. We are gathered today to honor the work of the inaugural Dorchester High Garden Club. I started this club earlier this year so that our students could take pride in contributing to our school’s community. I wanted to show them that if they put their heart and hard work into a project, their efforts would blossom in other ways. I wanted them to be proud of where they are from. But more importantly, I wanted them to be productive members of the community. I wanted them to know that they could make a difference with something as small as this seed that I hold in my hand. Each spring, a new group of students will pick up where the previous group left off so that the garden remains as an ongoing gift to the school and the neighborhood.” I pause for a moment and point to the garden. Everyone claps. A thin film of sweat forms around my neck. Across the street, neighbors step out onto their triple-decker front porches. They watch and listen as I continue. Their window sills are also packed with pink and white tulips.

  “Before we cut the ribbon, I want to dedicate this garden to my late mother, Maria Martin. She wasn’t just a fantastic mother but was also a beautiful and loving wife, neighbor, and friend who believed that we all are special in our own way. My mother is not here with us now, but her spirit is alive in all our hearts and in this garden. I got the idea to start this garden club because of my mother’s great love for flowers and nature. Gardening was one of her favorite hobbies, and it brought her great joy and peace. I hope that this garden does the same for our students, faculty, and community.”

  My eyes well up, and I wipe away a tear that crawls down my cheek. With help from my students, Leroy, Blanca, and Sue, we cut the green ribbon with a giant, plastic pair of scissors. The crowd erupts with more clapping. Tommy whistles and shouts, “You go, Carlos! Whoo-hoo!” With a smirk, I glare at him to quiet down but then laugh.

  “I now present to you the Dorchester High Garden Club. Welcome to our garden, your garden.” All my students line up in front of the garden and take a bow. Everyone claps in a round of thunderous applause. I know that somewhere, Mami is clapping, too.

  KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

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  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2009 by Johnny Diaz

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  ISBN: 978-0-7582-5878-6