Laughing Through My Tears

by Mia Soto

  “Are you ready?” I ask. “I have to go. I’m sorry.” It’s almost nine, and I feel terrible not having Sam yet. He’s mine this weekend because my ex is on a golf trip.

  “You look nice.” He’s approaching me as if on the hunt. I’m wearing a comfortable sun dress because I learned early to dress in light, airy fabrics between the months of March and November in Florida. He pulls me to him and nuzzles my neck. “You smell even better.”

  As much as I would like to take this conversation into the bedroom, “I have to go.”

  He lets me go slightly. “I’ll let you go if you let me spend the day with you.”

  “Don’t you have to work?” Come to think of it, he rarely goes out on Fridays because he works weekends.

  “No, I switched with Lewis. He needed Wednesday off.” His blue eyes are mesmerizing me. Blue eyes, brown hair, there really is no better combination. “So?”

  Oh, I don’t like this. Why does he want to go down this road and ruin all of the fun? “Well…the problem is I have Sam this weekend.”

  “I’d love to hang with Sam,” he says. How do I stop this? We’re heading in a very, very bad direction.

  “Well…” I hedge. He kisses me. He knows the power of his mouth. “Ok, but just today.”

  What did I just agree to? He smiles like he won the prize out of a Cracker Jacks box and takes my hand to lead me out. We run into Mario on our way down. He’s holding up a Netflix envelop and ignoring Mark altogether.

  “Can’t tonight, Mario. I have a barbeque at my cousins. Maybe tomorrow. What is it?” His disappointment shifts to hope with that last offer.

  “Waitress,” he smiles. Mario knows I want to see it. He is all about action and gore. I usually sleep through half of his choices because they just don’t interest me. He’s using subtly here. Romantic comedies are not his thing, and I know it. I nod and keep going because Mark isn’t stopping for this conversation to continue. Mario decides to push the envelop.

  “Around nine?” He calls loudly. I just thumbs up him since Mark is now dragging me at a breakneck speed. We’re in the car, and Mark is behind the wheel trying to control his temper.

  “You’re not going to say anything,” I ask. He takes a minute.

  “No, because today is just beginning and I’d like for the fight to come later. I’m not ready to leave you just yet.” I smile. Well, at least he’s starting to get it. If he’s smart, he’ll take it on the run, baby. He reaches over and cups my cheek.

  “Ok, we’re going to get my bike. Then I’m going home to shower, and I’ll meet you. What are you doing?”

  “I have to get Sam. We’ll probably go to the park for awhile.”

  “Which one?”

  “San Sol, the one in my mom’s neighborhood.”

  “Ok, I’ll meet you there.”

  After dropping Mark, I go to get Sam. Sam’s on the ground in Mom’s kitchen. Every single pot is out, and he’s cooking. I guess Mommy’s a cook and Mimi cooks a lot. He is destined to be one too. He has his dog that yaps loudly and walks in circles in one of the pots. He’s cooking it I guess. That’s right baby, cook it up. In Sam’s opinion, the louder the toy the better, and that dog is one of the loudest.

  I’m eating a banana and watching Sam play. For a split second, I consider not going to the park and not picking up my phone when Mark calls to find me. It sounds cold, but all of this togetherness is just a bad idea. Uncomplicated is easy, fun, mysterious. Real is not. Real is wanting to slap someone because they make too much noise when they eat or because they are the worst procrastinators on earth. Once you head down the real path there’s no going back. Real makes everything ugly. But I go to the park because for all of my frigid cynicism, I like this guy, a lot.

  Sam’s on the bow wow when Mark arrives. I know I shouldn’t let him on it, but I’m a sucker for him. Someone has been learning how to ride a motorcycle because they keep circling the block. Every time they do Sam goes “Broom, broom.” And does his car motion and looks up to me. He’s doing this when Mark walks up.

  “That’s right,” I say. “Motorcycle, dangerous.”

  Mark gives me a disbelieving stare. “Do you say that every time one of those goes by?”

  I’m smiling and nodding, “Every single time.”

  The motorcycle passes again. Sam’s going, “broom, broom.”

  “That’s right, motorcycle, dangerous.” Mark is just shaking his head. I don’t care if I’m instilling some sort of illogical phobia of motorbikes. He will not ride one Sam I Am. At least, he won’t while he’s in my house.

  When Sam tires of the park, it’s close to lunch and nap time. We start our walk back to Mom’s. Mark gets on his bike and then realizes my car isn’t nearby.

  “Where did you park?”

  “We walked here from Mom,” I say as Sam keeps on going. He’s doing his skip where he flings his legs back and forth almost like a gallop. Mark gets off and starts to walk with us.

  “I’ll meet you there.” I try to send him back to his bike, but he’s walking ahead to catch up with Sam who’s a few steps in front. They are strolling down the street talking.

  Sam’s pointing at things asking, “Waas tha?”

  “A car?” I hear Mark guess. Sam does his car motion.

  The bike goes around again, “Broom, broom.”

  Mark says, “Motorcycle.”

  I can’t help but add, “Still dangerous.”

  Mark gives me an exasperated glance over his shoulder. Sam takes Mark’s hand so Mark can swing him. All I can think is this is just terrible, terrible. How do I stop this? Of course, Mom is out front when we get to her place.

  “Tookie!”

  “Mimimimi!” Sam is running to her with his hands spread wide. Mark and I are approaching much slower. I can see Mom is very, very interested in Mark.

  “Hi, Mom,” I say.

  “Hello,” she’s smiling and obviously waiting for an introduction.

  “This is a friend of mine, Mark.”

  “Oh?” Mom turns her attention to Mark. It wouldn’t take much for Mark to charm someone new, even if he was a total jerk. But Mark’s not a jerk. He’s a nice, polite, babe. Mom’s in love right away.

  “Are you comin’ tonight?” My cousin Janice is having a barbeque to celebrate her impending third marriage. Sue called last week to tell me she was taking the family to their summer home in Maine. I won’t be cooking for the Davey’s for awhile.

  “Yeah, we’ll be there. After naps and all of that,” I assure her.

  “Are you comin’, Mark?” Mom is looking at Mark again.

  “I’m not sure,” he says politely.

  “Really, Marga, bring him. Mark you got to come. Her cousin Janice is havin’ a barbeque, just family, nothin’ big.”

  “Well, I think he might be busy…” I recover from shock and try to stop this trajectory.

  “I’m not busy,” Mark chimes in. He’s holding Sam and letting him reach for the tree branches.

  “Great!” Mom says happily. “We’ll be happy to see you den!” Mark is beaming. So is mom. My life is spinning chaotically out of the controlled orbit I’ve kept it in for the past few months.

  I take Mark back to his bike, and he meets us at our place. Sam falls asleep on the five minute ride home despite my best efforts to keep him up. It happens every time he ends up in the car around lunchtime. Unlike other kids, Sam cannot be transported somewhere else once asleep. Wherever he falls asleep is where he must stay if I want him to stay asleep. Even then he’s not going to sleep for very long. I didn’t get the sleeper model.

  Mark helps me carry him up the stairs to our place. I’m breathing heavy trying to control my pounding head. This is just all too much, too much like it used to be, too much for me to handle yet. Sam wakes upon entering the apartment. He needs to eat lunch anyway, or he’ll nap even less. It’s all about logistics with this kid. Lunch goes better than expected but that’s because he has company. Mark sits by me talking to Sam durin
g the meal, and Sam loves it. Then we have play time for a little bit before naptime. Food gives Sam a burst of energy that must be expelled before even the thought of a formal nap can occur. Then I start the nap music. It’s a relaxation tape I bought right after my divorce. It didn’t work for me. It barely works on Sam. He runs around waving his hand in a floating motion which is what I do when its time to start thinking about sleeping. Mark is getting a kick out of this. Yeah, my life’s a riot.

  Then it’s nap time. I put Sam in and lie by the crib. I know other moms can just put their kid in the crib and walk out. If I do that, Sam works himself into a frenzy that knows no end. He’s cried for as much as an hour and a half before. He could probably go longer than that, but I can’t so I’ll never know. After much rooting around, he finally falls asleep, and I crawl out of the room and pull the door shut. Mark is sitting cross legged in the hall with a huge smile on his face.

  “It’s not that funny,” I whisper from my hands and knees. I’m pulled into his arms for a long, hot kiss. This makes the smothering effect he’s having on me today worth it. When we break, I’m cradled in his arms and his hand is running up my leg. “I have to make brownies.”

  “You’re going to cook?” His eyes light up.

  “It’s just brownies,” I say as he helps me up. He’s in the kitchen with me watching as I pull the ingredients out.

  “You don’t use a box?” He asks.

  I shake my head as I try to pull down my heavy standing mixer from the top of the fridge. It’s the only place I have space for it. He’s right there to help. I breath deep again and try to control my spinning world.

  “Umm, so you can watch TV if you want.” I finally think of something to get him out of the kitchen. He looks over at it.

  “I didn’t think it works. I’ve never seen it on.” Like I said, I never watch TV.

  “It works. Here I’ll show you.” I start to walk away, and he pulls me into him.

  “Why are you trying to push me away?” He’s seriously probing my eyes.

  More deep breathing, please don’t make us have this conversation right now. I choose the passive aggressive route. “I’m not.”

  “You are,” he says, not letting it go.

  “Mark, you’re a babe. I’m not going to ask you why me. I just don’t get why you’d want to spend a Saturday dealing with naps and diapers and family barbeques. Go do what hot guys do on their days off.”

  He seems surprised. “I don’t know what other hot guys do. All I want to do is be with you.”

  “Mark,” I’m trying to stem the bleeding here. I sigh and roll my eyes, “well, my family is insane. Maybe that will scare you away.”

  He laughs as he pulls me to him, “don’t count on it.

  Chapter 6

  Fudge Brownies

  4 large eggs

  1 1/4 cups cocoa

  1t salt

  1t baking powder

  1/8t cinnamon

  1T vanilla extract

  1c unsalted butter

  2 1/4c sugar

  1 1/2 cups flour

  2 cups chocolate chips

  Preheat the oven to 350°F. Grease and flour a 9" x 13" pan

  Beat the eggs with the cocoa, salt, baking powder, cinnamon, and vanilla till smooth.

  Melt the butter over the stove on low heat until melted then add the sugar. Continue to heat until hot but not bubbling. It should look shiny. Slowly add the hot butter/sugar mixture to the egg/cocoa mixture, stirring until smooth. Let it cool for fifteen minutes. Mix the chips into the flour and add to the batter, stirring until combined. Pour into prepared pan.

  Bake for 30 minutes or until a knife inserted into the middle comes out reasonably clean.

  Ganache Icing

  1c semi sweet chip

  2T butter

  2-3T heavy cream

  1t vanilla

  Heat in microwave in 30second intervals, stirring gently until melted. Smooth over the top of the brownies. Let cool. Enjoy!

  We enter the barbeque in full swing. It’s almost five before we get there. Islanders are loud, messy people. They talk loud; they play their music loud; they live loud. I look at Mark expecting shock from the spectacle, but he’s smiling. There are about a million people milling around. That’s because islanders like to hang with each other, and they live for these types of events. Loud Caribbean style music is pouring in from the back. My cousin Bruce stops in mid stride.

  “OH! MY! GOD! Marga brought food!” He’s been drinking, and he probably doesn’t realize they can hear him in Brazil. “Whatcha got there, whatcha got there?” His arm is around me as he tries to look under the foil. People have stopped to laugh at this scene. I have no doubt everyone here knows what’s been going down in my life right up to what happened last night.

  He sees the brownies and then throws up his hands as he shouts, “NOBODY EAT THE BROWNIES!”

  Everyone is rolling. I look over at Mark, and he’s got a huge smile on his face. Bruce is now walking through the house loudly warning everyone off the brownies. My brown face is about ten shades of red. Janice comes up.

  “Bruce, man, shut ya mout’, ya hear?” She takes the brownies from me. “Come on in, get yourself sometin’ ta eat.”

  “This is Mark, Jan,” I say. She is smiling widely as he shakes her hand.

  “You have a lovely home,” he says. She does. She totally tricked it out with the money her father left her when he died.

  “It’s good ta meet ya’.” She’s always had a thick accent even though she grew up here. It’s probably because she only hangs out with islanders. Sam is running around high fiving everyone. He loves the racket and noise. We don’t hang out with that many islanders, but that doesn’t seem to be slowing down the mini-mayor, as we call him. One of my cousins swoops him up and takes him away to play with the other kids. When I’m with family, I get a break for a minute from Momdom. My mom walks up smiling from ear to ear for Mark.

  “You came! Come on, let me get ya sometin’ ta eat. Ya wait on Marga and you’ll starve ta deat’.” Her accent is always worse when she’s around her own kind.

  Mark’s still smiling as Mom pulls him away with her. As they are walking away, Eddie sidles up to me. “Damn girl, where you found ‘dat bit a cande’?”

  Eddie is our resident out of the closeter. We have countless others in the closet, and Eddie is determined to drag them out into the bright glare of sunshine with him. But for now, it looks like all he’s interested in is working some magic on Mark.

  “He found me,” I laugh as he throws his arm around me, and we start toward the kitchen.

  “Man, ya get all da good ones. Den ya trow dem away like dey nuttin.” Eddie speaks the gospel truth. “Ya trow dis one away ya betta’ trow him ta me.” We’re standing in the kitchen watching Mom take Mark through the out of control buffet of food. As islanders, food is part of our vernacular. Mark smiles his twenty thousand watt smile at me, and Eddie sighs. “Is he good?”

  Eddie doesn’t mean is he a good guy. So I laugh, “The best I’ve had.”

  Eddie flutters, “Oh lord, I gotta find Jack for a minute.” Jack is Eddie’s partner. Eddie is gone calling for Jack before another blink passes.

  Mark walks up with a plate heaped of food. “I have never seen so much food in my life.”

  I just nod and smile. “Yeah, we like to eat.”

  “I would have never known it from you. You could afford to eat a little more,” he says. For some reason, my love of food has flown the coop. I eat now out of necessity which is pretty much the same reason why I cook.

  “Are you going to eat?” He asks.

  “Yes, go, sit, I’ll find you.” He doesn’t get to answer because Eddie is back, and he has Mark in a grasp.

  “Come wit’ me babe’, we’ll find somewhere for ya.” Mark is such a sport as he’s led away in the arms of Eddie. He’s just smiling at the insanity that is my family.

  I fill a plate and head out to the covered patio where Mark
is on the couch between Eddie and our resident jezebel, Julie. I’m not sure which one thinks they are going to win this race, but I’m interested to see the finish. Julie keeps brushing Mark suggestively, and Eddie keeps warning her away. Mark’s smiling at me as I sit down across from him. I have not even gotten a fork to my mouth when Sam’s radar kicks in. Mommy’s eating. I need her.

  “Mama ma ma ma,” he’s running to me and crawling in my lap.

  “Hi, come on, sweetie,” I pull him up into my lap. I’ve eaten many a meal like this. For awhile he’s ok, but then he gets bored and decides to climb me like a jungle gym. Without a word, Mark gets up and takes him out into the back yard.

  Eddie and Julie are slack jawed. Eddie turns to me. “I’m tellin’ ya. Don’ ya go trowin’ dis one away.”

  I can only smile and eat. I’m trying to save this guy from me. I can’t seem to get through his thick, decent head. It’s eight o’clock. The music is still pulsing, and it’s getting close to Sam’s bedtime. He’s fading, even for Sam. Putting Sam down early means a five in the morning wake up call, I know. I tried it for a few months on “expert” advice. Since I’m not down with getting up at that time of morning, Sam goes down about eight thirty, sometimes nine. As it is, that makes for a six thirty wake up call. Like I said, I didn’t get the sleeper model.

  I’m standing at the kitchen bar with Eddie, Jan, Sylvia and Marissa. Mark walks up and sweeps my hair aside to kiss my nape and wrap an arm around my waist. I hear Eddie call for Jack.

  “Jack, babe’, I need ya!” He’s gone in search of his man, and we’re all laughing. Then he’s back with Jack, and we’re all talking. Someone asks Mark how he likes his first island experience. He doesn’t realize they are talking to him until all eyes fall on him.

  “I don’t speak Spanish,” he apologizes holding up his hands.

  The group explodes in laughter. Eddie leans on him and squeezes his solid arm. He gives me a round eye look before he says, “Dat wasn’t Spanish. Dat was English, man. But ya jes hang on ta Eddie here and I’ll translate for ya.” Eddie is using his thickest sing song accent. Mark’s not the first gringo unable to translate our patois.