by Becca Bloom
A sick feeling made my ears ring. My e-reader and bullet journal had been in my backpack.
I stood in the middle of the sidewalk, with a death grip on my suitcase, not even caring when passersby bumped into me or the cooler at my feet. I was hot and sweaty, my shirt was sticky, and I was stuck in a country I wasn’t convinced I wanted to be in. This vacation hated me.
Feeling as if I had made the worst mistake of my life by agreeing to come here, and wondering why my parents had ever thought this was a good idea, I turned toward the restaurant to see a supermodel looking at me with her mouth open. Great. As if I didn't feel awkward already. Let the beautiful people stare at me when I knew I looked a fright. I tucked a chunk of my stringy blonde hair behind my ear as I bent over to pick up the cooler.
Best get this over with. Rolling my carry-on under the shady, striped awning, I said, "Hi, I’m Jessica. Is this the Jimenez residence? I'm supposed to meet Sylvia here."
"Oh my gosh, you’re finally here! What happened? You look like you've just been mugged or had your dog run over." With that, her eyes widened. "Don't tell me Maria ran over someone! She promised she'd be careful. She’s usually a pretty good driver."
I struggled to push my bag forward. "No, she didn't run over anyone, but she drove off with my backpack still in her trunk."
She gasped. "Oh, no! Did you have anything important in it?”
“Aside from my journal and my e-reader, not really,” I said, not wanting to start off our acquaintance by revealing what a weirdo I was if I told her I’d rather have lost my money belt than those two treasured possessions.
“I’ll give her a call and ask if she can drop your knapsack off here as soon as she can." She reached out to take the cooler from my arms. "I’m Adriana Jimenez. My friends call me Adi. Sylvia is my mother. Let me help you with that." She pushed the plastic handle of my suitcase down and leaned forward to kiss me on the cheek.
I stood there as stiff as a board, unaccustomed to the invasion of my personal space.
Adriana laughed. "You'll get used to it. We greet with a kiss on the cheek here. Are you hungry or do you want a shower first?"
It was like she had read my mind. "A shower would be nice."
She lifted my bag like it weighed nothing. Beautiful, skinny, and deceptively strong.
Bright tapestries adorned the sunshine yellow wall to my left. Large, wood-framed windows at the front and to my right flooded sunlight over the pine tables and upholstered chairs in bold color combinations matching the tapestries on the walls and the runners down the tables. Twinkle lights dangled from exposed beams above our heads.
We passed a reception area which also housed bottles of wine and a few assorted liquors. I followed Adriana through a swinging door into the kitchen.
The first thing I noticed was the butcher block island with aquamarine legs and gleaming stainless steel pots and pans dangling above it. Bar stools tucked under the large counter surface surrounded it. The refrigerator hummed next to me.
To my left was an industrial-sized stove surrounded by pine cabinets and white counters and manned by an elegant woman with sleek, black hair pulled into a perfect chignon.
Setting my bag down, Adriana pointed to the classy woman stirring a pot on the stove. "That is my mom, Sylvia. She always said that your mother was her American twin." I could see it. My mom always looked polished and never left the house without lipstick on.
Nodding to the opposite side of the room, where there was an extra stove and a large sink with dirty dishes piled up as high as the window overlooking the street above it, Adriana added in a lower tone, "And that is my grandmother. Bertha is her name, but we all call her Abuelita. Don't look at her too long or she’ll notice us. If we’re lucky, we’ll slip past her unseen.” The elderly woman with jet black hair made up for her lack of height with the volume of her voice. She pointed at the pile of dishes and barked orders to a young lady who looked terrified of her.
Against the back wall was a freezer and a table laden with cookbooks stacked next to a coffeemaker, mismatched mugs, and a sugar bowl with a parrot painted on it.
It wasn't difficult for me to guess that the three women were related. They all had smooth, dark hair, thin figures, and high cheekbones.
Sylvia waved us over to join her and hugged me as if she’d known me my entire life and hadn’t seen me in ages. “We’re so happy you’re here!” she said, rocking me back and forth.
With another rock and a back-popping squeeze, she released me and nodded in Abuelita’s direction. In a whisper, she said, "She’s on the war path today. Tia Rosa decided to join Miss Patty’s art class and Mom is mad she’s not around to help with the dinner crowd. She’s not always like this, but consider yourselves warned.”
Adriana added, “Abuelita must be out of Twinkies. She gets grumpy if she hasn’t had her daily dose of sugar and carbs."
I could empathize with that. Everyone in my family knew to offer Mammy a gooey treat when she got snappy. Their trick worked fairly well on me, for that matter.
“Who is Tia Rosa?” I asked.
“She is Abuelita’s older sister. Tia is the Spanish word for ‘aunt.’ Without her sister here, Abuelita is tormenting my waitresses. I’m going to have to give them a raise today for putting up with her. I’ll take it out of Abuelita’s salary,” Sylvia added with an impish grin. Wrapping her arm around me, she said, "Enough about my cantankerous mother. It’s so good you are here, Jessica. It's been nearly thirty years since I've seen your mother, but I still consider her my best friend."
"Mamita, we need to call the Guzmáns. Jessica’s knapsack is in the trunk of Maria’s taxi," said Adriana.
"Ay, no! Did you have any valuables in your bag?"
"My e-reader." Only the most valuable of all valuables. Cracked screen and all. And my bullet journal. Oh, and my twin box pack of Big Red gum.
Sylvia raised her arched eyebrows. "I will call her before she picks up any other fares. Hopefully, she decided to call it a day. Why don’t you let Adi show you to your room while I call? I don’t imagine Maria will be able to return before a half an hour with all the traffic outside. As you may have noticed, most of our streets are one lane and one-way. They get crowded on the weekend.”
Sylvia made it sound like it wasn't a big deal. And it wouldn't have been had I not had the only item guaranteed to help me endure a month here taken away from me.
Adriana motioned for me to follow her to the back of the kitchen, where there was a screen door by the coffeemaker leading out to a stone pathway with a small patch of grass with a flower border on the far side.
The property was surrounded by a tall, cement wall. Directly to the right was a concrete washing tank, and above it were some wooden stairs taking us up to Adriana’s apartment.
"It gets noisy here on the busy days, but I think you'll be comfortable. I asked Jake to change the gas tank for us before he left yesterday, so you should have hot water for your shower. We hope you'll eat with us downstairs. We use distilled water and soak everything that comes out of the ground, so you shouldn’t have problems with parasites or amoebas. Abuelita always makes enough. She thinks it's her mission in life to fatten us up."
I looked down at the denim stretching over my hips. "I don't need any help in that department," I joked.
"You're so lucky!"
Convinced she was just being nice, I mimicked Mammy’s famous quote, "Everything I have, I owe to … pastry."
Adriana laughed, shaking her head. "What? Not spaghetti, Sophia Loren? I had forgotten what it’s like in developed countries. You all want to look like tall, twelve-year-old boys, but it’s different down here. We like women to look like women. Soft, round curves are admired. If you don’t believe me, you can ask Jake."
The stairs creaked as we walked up them. Like my apartment in Portland, she had three locks to get through before the door would open.
"Who is Jake?"
"He's my twin brother and the biggest pest in all of
Baños.” Adriana rolled her eyes with a smile. “He was going to pick you up from Quito, but he had a day trip scheduled with a tour group this morning and wasn’t able to get a replacement when we found out your flight was delayed." She checked her watch. “He should be home soon.”
“What kind of tours?” I asked, thinking I should act like a tourist while I’m here. I wouldn’t mind going back to get some better pictures of the sleepy volcanoes I’d seen outside of Quito. Maybe, then, I could finally see Cotopaxi.
“Mostly adventure tours. You know, things like mountain climbing, white water rafting, zip lining through the jungle like he’s Tarzan or something. If you want, he can take you on his next tour. I think it involves bungee jumping.”
“No!” I said a bit too enthusiastically as we stepped inside. “I mean, I’m more of a ‘keep-my-feet-on-steady-ground’ kind of girl. It doesn’t sound like something I’d enjoy.”
“Nothing wrong with that. I went with him once and that was enough for me. I’m a city girl through and through.” She took her sandals off, leaving them on a rug next to the door.
As I unlaced my Converse, I pondered the simplicity of wearing flip flops. The wood floor was warm under my toes.
Adriana opened the first door on the left of the entryway and motioned for me to leave my bag there. “Now, this is your room. Please make yourself comfortable.” Bolts of fabric were stacked neatly in a corner and sketches covered the walls. She pointed to the next door on the left. “This is our bathroom. Feel free to use whatever you need there. My room is just across the hall and everything else, I think, is pretty obvious.”
The hallway opened up to a living room decorated with turquoise and orange throw pillows to match the geometric design on the rug between the brown leather couch and the shelf used as an entertainment center. Black and white photographs of smiling people and famous European landmarks dressed up the white walls. Behind the couch was a marble counter-top with a dark purple KitchenAid sitting in the middle.
“I need to help out in the kitchen before the dinner customers come. If you need anything, just holler, okay?”
A shower. I desperately needed a shower.
It took me a while to figure out what the F and the C labeling the shower faucets meant, but with the help of my Spanish-English dictionary, I soon had the hot water going. F for frio and cold. C for calor and hot.
I grabbed a fresh change of clothes from my bag and a towel from the shelf above the toilet, testing the temperature of the water with my fingers until it felt perfect. Then, I made sure the long, skinny window at the top of the shower was closed so the room would fill with steam.
I let the hot water beat the kinks out of my shoulders. Lathering my hair with the coconut shampoo I’d found in the shower caddy, I massaged my scalp until my hands filled up with the scented lather. I was just starting to feel human again when the water turned to ice. Screaming as I jumped out of the way, my feet slipped on the wet tiles and I grabbed the first thing within grasp to break my fall — the shower curtain. The curtain rod gave, smacking me with a resounding clank to my forehead on its descent.
My eyes stung from the shampoo suds running down my face. Someone pounded on the front door, but I was more concerned about shutting off the freezing water.
Crawling forward and reaching toward the spigot blindly, I screamed again when my hand touched warm skin. Skin too warm to belong to me.
Blinking and rubbing at my eyes, I heard a man’s voice say, “Stay where you are. I’m turning off the water.”
Instinctively, I grabbed at the shower curtain to spread it over myself, trying to remember if it was clear or opaque. Please, please, please let it not be clear.
“Here,” he said, holding out a towel.
I took it, wiped my eyes dry, made sure he wasn’t looking, then wrapped the towel around me as I got to my feet.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his back still turned away from me.
I heard someone clumping up the stairs. “Gato, is everything—” Adriana froze when she saw me standing in the shower, shampoo dripping down my hair and, from the pulsating ache I felt on my forehead, a growing goose egg front and center on my face.
She visibly struggled not to laugh. “Well, I can see you two have finally met. Gato, you can turn around. Jess, this is my brother, Jake.”
Gato … cat. Why would she call her brother a cat? He turned around and I forgot how to speak, completely mesmerized by the brightest green eyes I had ever seen.
Chapter 4
My eyes were bright red from the soap, my nose was red, and my forehead was swollen. But my clothes were clean and I didn't feel grimy anymore. Fluffing my long hair out so it wouldn’t dry flat against my head, I went downstairs to the kitchen, praying all the while that Jake would miraculously disappear and I would never have to see him again. Nor him me. He'd already seen enough.
As soon as the screen door shut behind me, I knew he was in the room. Adriana stifled a laugh.
Sylvia had the grace to look away, but her shoulders shook.
Abuelita walked up to me, smacking a rolling pin against her palm.
"You meet my grandson, eh," she said in an accusatory tone.
My face burned. "You could say that." A self-conscious chuckle escaped me. If you can't beat them, join them. I could appreciate the humor of the situation, and though it was difficult to laugh about it at that moment, I knew it would be much funnier tomorrow. Or the day after. Okay, more like a year later. Still, better to laugh than to cry.
I saw him then, without soap burning my eyes and mortification clouding my view. He walked around the island, a cup of steaming, black coffee in his hand. Abuelita reached up on her tiptoes and patted his cheek while he extended the coffee out to me. He was handsomer now that I could see properly. Six feet plus of chiseled, honey-skinned perfection. And those eyes.
"Welcome to our home," he said. He wore a slight smile, but he did not laugh at me. I looked into his hypnotizing lime green eyes and nearly dropped the mug.
"Thank you," I managed to mumble, running my finger up the side of the cup before the drops of coffee I’d sloshed over the side fell to the floor.
Abuelita strengthened her adoring pats to a smart smack, and she poked one end of the rolling pin into Jake’s chest. She was half his height, but that didn’t seem to bother her in the least.
"You forget change gas tank!" she charged.
"I'm sorry, Abuelita," he said repentantly. "It won't happen again." His lips curled up clear to the corners of his eyes.
His smile worked like a charm on her, as I imagine it would on any female with a pulse. Retracting her rolling pin, she smiled back, saying, "See it no happen again. You apologize to our guest." She waved her pin toward me, and I jumped back before it connected with my nose. My face had suffered enough hits for the day.
She stuck out her other hand and I instinctively shook it. “My name Bertha. You call me Abuelita,” she ordered before glaring at her forgetful grandson.
Jake turned to me, his smile widening enough to show the gap between his front teeth, adding a level of adorable to his already impressive hotness. "I am sorry. Let me make it up to you by showing you around Baños when you’re rested up."
Adriana joined in the conversation. “Ay, no! Not one of your boring tours. Take us to The Shamrock! We can dance, and you can buy us drinks!” She wrapped her arm around my shoulders.
Filled with a sense of camaraderie, I said, “That sounds nice. Can we go tomorrow, though? I have a Skype date with my family tonight. They’re worried sick after all the problems I had getting here.”
“Tomorrow it is! Tia Rosa will cover for me,” said Adriana excitedly.
Jake scowled at his sister. “My tours are never boring.”
“Dancing and drinks?” she insisted.
He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Have your way.” To me, he said, “I’ll show you around another day.”
My knees shook like Jell-O, but I he
ld myself together. “I look forward to it!” I replied like an enthusiastic, teenage tourist. Just shoot me now. I couldn’t have acted more like a goober had I tried.
Sylvia stopped chopping. Laying down her knife, she said, “Please give your parents my love.”
I pulled out my cell phone to check the time. I’d need to turn it off to save its battery until Maria returned my backpack. The charger had been inside. "I will so long as my phone doesn’t die. Were you able to contact Maria?"
"I called as soon as Adi told me about it. Maria answered the phone and said she'd stop by as soon as she could. I'm guessing it might be a few minutes longer. It sounded like José was fighting with his neighbor or something."
Abuelita interrupted, "Drama, drama, drama. That people watch too much soap opera."
I wasn’t surprised. "They fought most of the way home, then she got into a yelling match with a couple guys in a beat-up taxi before she raced off.”
Jake nodded. “José and Maria are like vinegar and water. Still, they’ve stuck it out for five years. That’s more than what most people can say.”
Abuelita jabbed her finger in Jake’s arm, “José too scare for to get divorce. He stuck with her until he die and he know it.”
Speaking of death… “This waiting is killing me. If you think it might take a while, I’d rather go get my backpack and be done with it.” It was five o’clock and my family would call in a couple hours.
They looked at me funny. Finally, Sylvia said, "Honey, you've come to the wrong place if waiting affects you so badly."
Jake leaned forward and looked at my phone. “I have a charger for that. I’ll swing by the office and drop it off here before I head home. That way, if Maria isn’t in, you don’t have to miss your family’s call.”
“Thank you,” I said, trying not to picture him riding a white horse in shining armor, his hair ruffling in the breeze and his teeth glinting as the heavens poured sunlight over his knightly self.