Claiming Carlos

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Claiming Carlos Page 15

by Rachelle Ayala


  “Lolo, Tita!” Johnny stretches his arms their direction. Without waiting for an invitation, he plops his lanky body onto the vinyl booth. I see he’s still Pinoy enough to extend his knuckles to his grandfather and say, “Mano po,” but other than that, he’s insolent, disrespectful, and cocky.

  Yeah, and a day ago, you thought he was hot shit. Remember the Concha and Johnny show?

  I pinch myself, wishing I could slap myself comatose, and pick up the dessert tray. “Mr. Dee, your ice cream, and a calamansi muffin for you, Tita. Johnny, are you having anything?”

  The thing about being a waitress is I have to be friendly and fake a smile even if I want to explode and kick ass.

  “Caramel macchiato with a sprig of mint.” He leers at my hips and winks.

  “I’m sorry, it’s not on the menu.”

  He knew that, of course.

  Making a big show of contemplation, he tips his head and tickles his chin. “Ah, but the Manila Cloud coffee bar will be a caffeinated dream. Lattes, mochaccino, chai, matcha-tini.”

  “Coffee, tea, calamansi juice, mango, or coconut water. Take your pick.”

  “Concha, what’s happened to you?” He lifts his eyebrow and peruses my un-madeup face. “You were on board with the menu changes. Didn’t you agree to move upmarket? A higher taste in Filipino cuisine, the food and nectar of the gods, a healthy, green beginning for the Pinoy millennium.”

  I can’t believe he actually believes his marketing-speak. Calmly, I set the dessert spoons down for Mr. Dee and Tita Clare, and pour the tea. “I’ve changed my mind. I think it’s important to take the best of our traditional foods, cut some of the cholesterol and salt, but keep the taste our ancestors enjoyed.”

  “You’re upset, ma chérie.” He bows his head and peers at me with a sad puppy expression. “I abjectly apologize for getting carried away with the singing last night. I thought you enjoyed it.”

  “It was just a song, Johnny. Did you want to order dessert or a drink?”

  “Sit with us.” He takes my hand. “Lolo, tell Concha how much she means to me.”

  Mr. Dee clears his throat and coughs. “Perhaps you should court her in private, away from the prying eyes of the entire restaurant.”

  Johnny slides onto his knees and puts his hands together in a pleading posture.

  “Get up, you’re embarrassing me.” I feel my face reddening.

  “Only if you forgive me.”

  “I forgive you, please, get up.”

  Johnny takes my hand and kisses it fervently. The entire bangus room breaks out in applause. Someone grunts from the vicinity of the screen blocking the condiment refrigerator.

  Too late. I catch Carlos’s glare and wipe Johnny’s lips from my hand. “Let me get you a coffee and a leche flan.”

  Flustered, my stomach tumbling like a wobbly egg, I retreat toward the kitchen. Mama’s right. Johnny’s handsome and good for my image. But who is the real Johnny? Besides, Carlos’s pointed stare pierces my heart and I can’t bear for him to think anything indecent happened between me and Johnny. God knows his mother’s been whispering in his ear about our so-called indiscretions.

  I fetch the coffee and flan without speaking to anyone. Carlos is not in the kitchen, although I try to appear as if I’m not looking for him.

  I ask Jake to tell Carlos to meet me in my father’s office in five minutes. I need Carlos’s advice on how to counter Miranda and Johnny’s moves on Barrio XO. He’s perceptive about people and sees through their fakery. He’s always been my friend from the first time he set foot at our house. It’s impossible for him to not help. He’s just mad at me right now. He’ll get over it.

  After serving Johnny his coffee and dessert, I escape down the corridor toward my father’s office. Swinging through the bead curtains, I run smack into Carlo’s back. Julia shrieks and jumps away, guiltily covering her lips.

  They were kissing!

  A jagged bolt of pure unadulterated pain seizes my heart and shakes every last drop of blood out. I grip my chest, afraid to cry out, unable to catch my breath.

  Carlos doesn’t react to my presence. He leans toward Julia and gently sweeps a strand of hair over her ear. “I have the day off tomorrow. Let’s hang out together.”

  # # #

  Oh the misery. The utter humiliation. The epitome of eating crow. I turn, my tail tucked between my legs, whimpering like a wet Chihuahua. I need air, and distance.

  Instead, I get Tita Gloria. She marches toward me swinging a rosary. What now?

  “Repent of your evil deeds. Fornication is a deadly sin.”

  “I did nothing.”

  “Then why was Miranda gloating to your mother?” She loops the rosary over my wrist.

  Gloating? That sounds so weird. Is Johnny so hard up he can’t get laid? Why would any mother brag about it?

  “I’ll say my Hail Marys if you’ll keep quiet. Promise.”

  “Ordinarily, I’d ask you to come to church with us, but Carlos has a date with Julia …” She presses my hand over the crucifix. “Why don’t you stay home and pray instead?”

  “Uh, sure. Thanks, Tita.” I have to remind myself. She’s not the enemy. She cares for her son. Julia’s perfect for him. They’ll make the perfect Pinoy family. Four kids, a dog, Little League, and Girl Scouts. Carlos will take them camping and Julia will bake multicolored macarons from scratch. Carlos will open his own restaurant and be nominated the celebrity chef of the Philippines. Julia will chair the PTA and the church charity committee. They’ll celebrate their fiftieth anniversary surrounded by grandchildren and accomplishments. And me? I’ll be locked up in the attic with my neurotic screeching cockatiel, eating bird seed muffins filled with cracked eggshells.

  Out of nowhere, Tita Gloria encircles me in a hug and kisses me noisily, breaking the spell on Carlos and Julia’s perfectly sickening life story. “You had a hard day. Go home and spend time with that sweet girl of yours.”

  “Thanks, Tita.” I wipe a tear from my cheek. “I’m so grateful to God I have her.”

  Gloria’s expression hardens. “Do not mess up Carlos and Julia’s courtship. I’ll pray for you, but if you set your hooks on my son, I’ll make you pay dearly.”

  “You have nothing to worry about.” I swipe the back of my hand roughly across my face. “Carlos and I are no longer friends. Maybe it’s better if you’re no longer my godmother. That way I won’t ever get in Carlos’s way again.”

  “If that’s what you want.” Gloria makes a hand washing motion. “I’m only sorry you’ve grieved your mother so much. You do take after your father. Unable to control your urges. God knows I tried to set a good example for you.”

  Whatever backhanded insult she just lobbed at me, I don’t care. I’m only too eager to get out of her orbit. Shoving the rosary into her hands, I give her the evil eye. “You’ve been a wonderful example of the woman I don’t wish to become. No matter what Livy does, what mistakes she makes, she’ll always have my support and love.”

  “Not if her father files a restraining order.” Gloria’s grin widens as her eyes narrow. “Do you ever wonder why she was give up for adoption in the first place? Loose morality is inherited, and your parents trusted Olivia and Kevin to raise her, not you.”

  Chapter 22

  Monday is our day off. Rather than worrying about the restaurant, Mama tells me to take Brian, Livy, and Genie to the park while she stays home to do the accounting. I should be helping her, but I treasure every precious moment with Livy. Besides, Carlos has a date with Julia, and I can’t get rid of the sickening sight I ran into yesterday. The last place I want to be is at the restaurant when he comes by to prepare the menu for tomorrow’s opening.

  “Take another swing,” Brian shouts at Livy. “Here it comes.”

  He rolls his arm and lobs the softball at Livy, nice and slow. She swings and misses.

  “I’m just like Choco. I can never get a hit.” Livy picks up the ball and throws it back to him.

  “Ah, come
on, no one’s as bad as my sister.” Brian catches the ball. “Let’s try it again.”

  “It’s no use.” Livy hands the bat to me. “I’m tired.”

  This is too much negative self-talk for Livy. I’m going to have to show her how winners think.

  “I can hit the ball. I know I can.” I puff myself up.

  “Hey, Choke, you can use the practice.” Brian winds up and pitches before I’m even set up.

  The ball bounces off the picnic table. Whose great idea is it to use a picnic table as a backstop?

  “Genie, get over here and play catcher.” I throw a mitt at her.

  She’s leaning back in an awkward position with her elbows on the table. “I can’t bend over.”

  Oh, right. She had her belly button pierced. My two siblings and darling Livy racked up the charges yesterday, buying goodies off my tab.

  Livy flops onto the bench next to her. “They wouldn’t let me get my belly button pierced.”

  “Good. I’m glad they checked IDs. Go get the ball.” I point to where the ball stopped rolling.

  “I’m taking Hilda on a trail,” Genie says. “You get the ball.”

  She wraps Hilda’s leash around her wrist and lets Hilda drag her down the path near the bay.

  “Come on, Livy, try it again.” Brian trots past the table and retrieves the softball. He grabs the bat and leads Livy to the grass. “Choke, you pitch.”

  Brian wraps his arms around Livy and helps her take practice swings. He lines up her shoulders and rests his cheek against hers, instructing her to hold up her elbow.

  “Are you guys going to waste time swinging or are you ready to hit?” I shout.

  “Ready!”

  “Okay, here goes.” I lob a nice slow one at them.

  Brian doesn’t let go of Livy or the bat. Instead he whips the bat around and connects. The ball arcs toward me.

  “Yay! I did it!” Livy bounces on her toes. “Let’s do it again.”

  I throw the ball two more times and each time, Brian swings for Livy and she gets a hit. They beam at each other happily and are getting entirely too close for my comfort.

  Brian has no clue who Livy is to me. He was only four when she was born. But he’s too old for her at sixteen, and he’s her blood uncle.

  “This time, without help.” I wave. “Brian, step back.”

  He lets go of Livy who turns and smiles at him. “I like it better when you show me.”

  What the heck? Is she flirting with him? Or am I seeing things that aren’t there?

  I windup and throw the ball too hard and wide. Livy reaches for it, missing.

  Brian snickers. “Don’t go for bad pitches. That’s half the battle there.”

  “But how would I know, unless you show me?” Livy leans back and nestles herself inside Brian’s arms. “One more hit?”

  “Uhm, sure.” Brian swallows so hard his Adam’s apple lurches.

  Not good. It means she’s affecting him and not in a brotherly way.

  “No, Livy,” I say. “You can do it yourself. I gave you a bad pitch.”

  She reluctantly steps away from Brian but glances over her shoulder at him. Of course I can’t blame her. My brother’s as handsome as they come, getting the best of both of my parents whereas I got the worst. I’m going to have to talk to Mama about this. It was her idea for Genie and Brian to watch Livy while her father’s in Bangalore for the summer.

  I carefully place the pitch, slow, arcing and aiming to come down near Livy’s bat.

  She swings. Crack.

  “Ow!” Livy drops the bat and bends over, clutching her fingers.

  Brian’s on top of her like a cat on a canary. “Are you okay? Where does it hurt?”

  “Ow, ow, my hand. I might have broken it,” Livy cries.

  I run toward her and grab her hand. “Where does it hurt? Can you bend your fingers?”

  “You’re making it hurt worse.” She snarls at me.

  I let go and Brian takes her hand, rubbing it gently. “Is this better?”

  Of course, she lets him examine it.

  “Let go.” I yank Brian away from her. “Livy’s only twelve. You shouldn’t be moving in on her.”

  “I’m not.” Brian immediately steps in front of Livy in a protective posture.

  “Eww …” Livy rolls her eyes at me. “Brian’s my friend. Just because you’re slutting around with Johnny Dee doesn’t mean everyone else is doing it.”

  Everything on me gapes. My mouth, eyes, nostrils, hands. What got into her to talk back to me like this?

  I try to speak, but my vocal cords are frozen.

  Thunk! Something hard hits my head.

  “Ow, ow.” I bend over clutching my forehead as a softball lands at my feet.

  “Oops, sorry!” Genie yells. “You guys weren’t watching, but some kid almost took our ball.”

  Hilda lunges and grabs the ball, pulling from Genie’s grasp. She goes flying and sprawls onto her stomach. “Ouch! My belly button. Ow.”

  I run to help Genie when Hilda’s leash tangles around my legs sending me to the ground, right on my behind. My tailbone jolts with pain. “Someone, get Hilda.”

  Brian runs after Hilda, but she leaps and jumps, the ball in her mouth, toward a man and a woman holding hands. Oh shit. It’s Carlos and Julia. Of all the parks in San Diego County, why did they have to end up here?

  They don’t see Hilda coming. She pounces and knocks Carlos off balance. His arms windmill and he falls, dragging Julia in a heap on top of him.

  Brian’s the last man standing. He helps Julia up and that’s when Carlos spots me. He abruptly turns his face away and makes a big show of concern for Julia.

  I skinned my knee and hit my elbow hard, and I’m sure Genie must be hurting with her newly pierced belly button, but Carlos ignores us.

  My eyes blurry, I pick myself up and help Genie. “You okay? Did you get any dirt into your piercing?”

  She raises her shirt and examines the reddened area. “I think I’m okay. Livy? You ready to go?”

  “Not yet, I want Kuya Carlos to pitch.” Livy shoots me a resentful look. “I’m sure he won’t hit my hand.”

  Obviously she’s okay now. She picks up the bat and sashays over to Brian and Carlos.

  Julia steps toward me, smiles, but then turns to Genie and takes her arm. “I haven’t seen you for ages. How’s everyone doing?”

  Okay, she’s obviously decided I’m the enemy and wants to pump information from Genie instead. They stroll toward the lagoon, laughing and giggling, with Genie showing her the belly button piercing. The two of them are oblivious to how much beauty they exude, young, confident, desirable.

  “Hey, Choke, hold the dog,” Brian says and throws the leash at me.

  Great. Relegated to dog holder. Why does everyone hate me?

  “Come on, Hilda. Be good.” I put my foot on her leash.

  She whines and rolls her eyes toward Carlos and Brian.

  “No, you’re not going to play ball with them. You’re going to sit here and talk to me.” I fold my arms.

  She doesn’t lie down, but stays standing, ears up and alert, panting.

  I close my eyes, unable to stomach the rejection all around me. I can hear Livy giggling and talking excitedly. Brian’s voice is so much lower than usual, and he’s explaining how she should keep her eye on the ball, focus and swing where she thinks the ball should come, rather than reach for it.

  Carlos is yelling, “Make it a reflex. Train yourself.”

  It all blends into Evie’s voice encouraging me, Choco, don’t think so hard. Trust your cerebellum. Relax, swing, visualize it.

  When will I ever get a hit? Why am I so lame?

  Someone’s bat connects with a metallic pong, and the leash burns under my feet.

  “Hilda!” I call out, jerked from my mental fog.

  Hilda streaks toward the direction of the ball. It arcs high and falls toward the lagoon. She leaps into the water, pouncing in the direction where the
ball splashed down.

  “Dang, we lost the ball.” Brian throws the bat. “Hilda! Come back.”

  She keeps running toward a dense area of reeds, spooking a flock of seabirds. This is a salt-water estuary so there are no waves to worry about, but she could get lost out there.

  Carlos and Brian take off after her. “Hilda, get back here.”

  “Where is she?” I follow after the guys with Livy trailing me.

  “Can she swim?” Livy asks.

  “She’s just a puppy. I don’t know.” My feet slog in the muck, making wet, sucking sounds each step I take.

  I’m too short to see past the reeds and so is Livy. After what seems like fifteen minutes or more, Brian clambers from the mucky water. “We lost her. Carlos chased her into the marsh, but there’s no way to see her with all the tall reeds.”

  “What are we going to do?” Livy’s lower lip trembles. “I like Hilda.”

  “We better call the rangers for help.” I drag them back to the picnic table and rummage in my purse for the cell phone. I describe what happened, and they promised to send a search team.

  Right when I hang up, Genie and Julia return from their walk.

  “What happened? Why does everyone look so sad?” Genie asks.

  “Where’s Carlos?” Julia clutches her throat, immediately pegging that her man might be in danger.

  I shake my brother. “Where did Carlos go?”

  “I don’t know,” Brian says. “I thought I heard a yell, like someone was hurt, but the reeds were too thick.”

  Julia grabs my hands. “What if something happened to him? I can’t bear it.”

  What’s with her? One or two dates and she’s speaking life and death without him?

  “He’ll be fine. He’s probably rescuing Hilda right now.” I drag her to the bench and sit down with her. Julia’s always been high-strung and anxious. Drives me crazy, but she’s my cousin so I bear with it.

  “But why aren’t they back?” Her voice squeaks. “What if they got bitten by a rattlesnake? Or he twisted his ankle and ran into quicksand.”

  “There’s no quicksand out there.” I pat her back to reassure her. “Carlos is too smart to be bitten by a rattlesnake.”

 

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