“I’m sure she loved you and Elena,” Nicole said softly. “She just couldn’t help the way she was. She was sick.”
“She was sick all right,” Julian said. He unlocked the car door. “I don’t really miss her. But I do miss my father and my Aunt Alma.”
“Is your aunt still in Cuba?”
“She’s not in Cuba.” He got out of the car and opened the door on her side. “Nicole, do you realize what time it is? I’ll walk you to the door.”
That’s right, walk me to the door so you can shut it tight, Nicole thought. Clearly he was not going to tolerate any more questions, and she was exhausted from prying. Maybe at the gathering she would get to meet Aunt Alma and others, and maybe they would be more open to discussion. Getting personal information out of Julian was like extracting splinters from a wound.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Thanksgiving Day arrived and Nicole glanced in puzzlement at Julian as he parked the car in the circular driveway in front of the estate. “I thought the dinner was going to be at your place?”
“It’s always at my sister and brother-in-law’s,” Julian said. “I didn’t tell you that?”
“No. You didn’t.”
It wasn’t a big deal, but she already felt nervous, and being in unfamiliar surroundings increased her anxiety. She glanced in the back seat at Trey. Wearing his best blue blazer and anxious to get out of the car, he showed no signs of panic so far.
Julian opened the car door for Nicole, who got out carefully. Dressed in a long black velvet, spaghetti-strapped dress, with a jeweled choker collar around her swan-like neck, she was a picture of elegant perfection. Her hair was in a sophisticated upsweep, and he thought she looked like an Ethiopian princess.
She had asked him more than once before they arrived if she was overdressed, and he’d had to assure her that she wasn’t. Dressing formally was part of Elena’s stupid ritual, and was the reason he was wearing a black suit and a white shirt. Not wearing a tie was his own deliberate fashion faux pas. But it didn’t compare to last Thanksgiving when he’d worn a T-shirt and jeans, upsetting no one but Elena. It was only because Nicole wanted to make a good impression that he wasn’t doing the same thing this year.
The minute Nicole entered the Torres family dwelling, a chill literally went through her. The surroundings bore no resemblance to the interior of Julian’s home, because it exhibited none of his artistic flair for light, open space and creativity. It was like stepping into a vault containing the dark woody tones of traditional, conservative wealth and power. The foyer was huge and intimidating with an impressive chandelier suspended above alcoved walls and a dark marble floor.
As they moved down the hall toward the sound of voices, she noted expensive paintings lining the walls. She could see a winding staircase, more chandeliers and finally they were entering the library, or family room, where everyone had gathered for hors d’oeuvres and drinks being offered by a roving servant. Instantly her attention shifted from the interior decorating to the people who were all around them.
Julian introduced her to some of the cousins, whose names escaped her the minute they were spoken. There were just too many people to remember, and she was distracted by Trey, whose enthusiasm had died. He was now clinging tightly to her. Had she been a kangaroo, he’d probably climb into her pouch and hide. She wanted to hide too, but the unyielding floor was not about to swallow her up.
Julian, the star in the family, was the center of everyone’s attention and while he was talking animatedly to an uncle, Nicole quickly assessed the entire scene. There were no people of color in the room. Not even one person from Julian’s father’s side of the family appeared to be present and it made her feel even more disappointed than she knew she should be.
Out of the corner of her eye, Nicole noticed an attractive young woman lingering a distance away with her eyes focused on Julian. She had tawny, wheat-colored hair that flowed down to her waist. It was certainly not unusual that she would be looking at him, but the concentrated focus of her gaze was a little odd for a relative…unless of course she wasn’t.
“Nicole,” Julian said. “I want you and Trey to meet Luis, my brother-in-law and manager.”
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Nicole said, smiling and extending her hand to the tall, pleasant-looking man with thinning dark hair and a mustache.
Luis Torres did not shake her hand. He kissed it, flashed a genuine smile, and spoke in heavily accented English, “It is always a pleasure to behold a beautiful woman. Any friend of Julian’s is a friend of mine.”
Nicole was embarrassed but touched that Mr. Torres showed no sign of animosity or reserve. He shook Trey’s hand and didn’t make an issue out of the boy’s silence. He started to say something else but an elderly man interrupted to speak to him and a woman quickly stepped forward to address Julian. Nicole took a deep breath. The woman was none other than Elena, and Nicole wondered if she would remember her from their brief meeting in the hospital months ago.
“Julian, Lydia is here,” Elena said, ignoring Nicole.
Looking somewhat agitated, Julian turned as the tawny-haired girl approached him with uncertain steps, nervously brushing back her hair.
“Excuse me a minute,” he said to Nicole, then smiled at Lydia and escorted her to the far end of the room.
Flustered and feeling awkward, Nicole focused her attention back on Elena, observing that the woman was wearing an elegant and ostentatiously expensive designer dress. Her hair was pulled back and confined so tightly in a chignon that it stretched her skin and gave her eyes a slightly slanted feline appearance. The cat, although inches shorter than Nicole, had her claws unsheathed and loomed larger than anyone in the room.
“Hello, I take it you’re one of Julian’s friends,” she purred. A cat with a Spanish accent. “I’m his sister, Elena. Have you met his fiancée, Lydia?”
“Fiancée?” Nicole tried not to look too bewildered.
“Yes, they’ve known each other for years. They make such a beautiful couple, don’t you think?” Before Nicole could respond, she continued. “Oh, I didn’t even get your name. Are you a model, dear?”
“My name is Nicole and I am not a model.”
“No? How unusual. Julian’s friends are always models.” She looked down at Trey who was scowling and tugging at Nicole’s arm. “Oh, I remember this little boy. He’s the one who can’t talk.” She looked back at Nicole. “You are his mother?”
“Yes. I am his mother,” Nicole replied icily. “Now if you’ll excuse me I…”
“How is it that you and Julian became friends?” she asked, completely ignoring the fact that Nicole was trying to evade her. “You are in show business, no?”
“I am not in show business. I am a nurse at Miami General Hospital.”
“A nurse?” Her eyebrows arched, then narrowed. “How interesting.” Her false eyelids fluttered a mile a minute. “That’s a very beautiful dress you’re wearing. Did Julian buy it for you?”
Nicole was about to explode when she suddenly felt Julian’s hand on her arm. As she turned to look at him, she also noticed Lydia quickly making her exit from the room, looking upset.
“I see you’ve met my conniving sister,” Julian said, glaring at Elena.
He urgently guided Nicole and Trey away from the line of fire. They stepped out into the quiet hall.
“I think it would be a good idea if you just take us home right now, so you can have dinner with your fiancée,” Nicole said angrily.
Julian laughed. “Nicole, listen to me. That girl is not my fiancée. She’s just another victim of Elena’s scheming. I’ve told you enough about Elena to…”
At that moment, Amanda came rushing out, looking like a little princess in ribbons and a red velvet dress. “Hi Trey!” she shouted.
Trey’s bewilderment vanished. He smiled.
Julian knelt down to their level. “Amanda, why don’t you take Trey over where the kids are.”
Nicole opened her mout
h to protest, but Amanda grabbed Trey by the hand and they ran back into the crowded room.
“Come on. Let’s just go back inside and get this over with,” Julian said tightly. “You wanted to meet everyone. As far as I can tell, Elena is the only one who’s been rude to you. Surely you must have anticipated that.”
“I did. It’s just that she got me with that fiancée thing. If there is nothing between you and Lydia, why did she get so upset and leave? What did you say to her?”
“She was upset because Elena lied to her. I told her the truth. Let’s go back in.”
But what is the truth? Nicole wondered. “Julian, I’m not sure this is a good idea now. I…I was expecting some cattiness from Elena, but this… Did you hear what she asked me? She asked me if you bought my dress.”
“I’m telling you, don’t take her seriously. She’s only being her usual bitchy self. Just give it right back to her.”
Nicole sighed. “I should have reminded her that you probably bought her dress.”
Julian grinned. “Now you’ve got it. Let’s rejoin the circus.”
Instincts told her that she should stick to her original decision, which was to leave immediately, but the optimistic fool in her allowed him to escort her back into the viper pit.
She met Julian’s nephews, Raul and Ramón. Raul was a studious looking twenty-two-year-old law student and Ramón, four years younger, was his polar opposite with spiked hair and an earring. They were formally polite and didn’t seem to be harboring ulterior thoughts about her presence.
She looked around and spotted Trey among the group of children. He did not look uneasy, and she noticed with further relief, that Amanda’s nanny, Michelle, was present and supervising the children. Nicole decided to relax. She would not allow Elena to get to her again. If they exchanged any more words, she would just stand up to her. Why should she care what Elena thought? Julian had invited her.
* * *
Dinner was served after a long prayer spoken in Spanish by Luis Torres’s elderly father, who sat at the head of a seemingly endless banquet table in a dining room worthy of royalty. To his left and right were all the grown children, grandchildren, cousins, aunts and uncles. Nicole and Julian sat to the left, directly opposite Elena and Luis. All of the children under fifteen were in an adjoining room, which apparently was the Torres family equivalent of the children’s table. For once in her life, Nicole would have preferred to be there.
The food was typical Cuban fare, beans, rice, roast pork, along with the traditional American turkey with all the trimmings, but Nicole hardly tasted it. She was too distracted by the atmosphere around her, and felt like an alien who’d just crash-landed on Earth, because everyone was speaking in Spanish and she could understand very little of it.
Instead of being relaxed and at ease with his own family, Julian seemed to be in another world too. Nicole was disturbed by the fact that his mood had shifted abruptly from cordial, to stiff, cold, and indifferent. He was also drinking more than she thought he should be. Every few minutes she found herself glancing anxiously at him, wondering if he were still awake.
Nicole didn’t realize the exact moment when the conversation switched over to English, but all of a sudden she understood everything being said and immediately regretted it.
“You know, this country would really be great if it wasn’t for the liberals,” Elena said, addressing an aunt, but eyeing Nicole. “Remember that election year when we had to wait a long time to find out who won the presidency because the liberals wanted to keep recounting votes even though it was obvious who won?”
“That was something,” the aunt said. “I’m glad it didn’t happen this time.”
A steady buzz of conversation ensued. Nicole toyed with her rice and tried to plot an escape from the room.
“Something really should be done about the crime in this country,” Elena continued. “The death penalty should be restored in all the states. It probably would be if it weren’t for those liberal hypocrites. Just think, if they ever get voted into full power, this country could become communist.”
“Oh, I don’t think it will come to that, at least not in our lifetime,” someone else said.
“No one thought Castro would take Cuba,” Elena said.
That was over forty years ago, Nicole thought. Why dwell on that?
“I don’t see this country going communist,” the other person continued. “But you are right about the liberals. They should never be allowed to get out of control.”
“It’s been a while now, but I still can’t get over what they did to that little boy,” Elena said.
Not that again, Nicole thought. She remembered all too well the international custody battle over a little Cuban refugee, a boy Trey’s age who had been found floating alone in the Atlantic, having lost his mother. His Miami relatives had wanted to keep him, but the U.S. government had intervened and he had been returned to his father in Cuba, angering the Cuban-American community.
Nicole took a deep breath and glanced at Julian, wondering if he was going to make a comment, but his dark eyes were fixed straight ahead, staring into a void of nothingness.
“It was a shame about the little boy,” Nicole said before she could stop herself. “But who knows, maybe when he’s old enough to decide for himself he’ll return.”
Elena glared at her. “Oh, so you really think it’s that easy? Obviously you know nothing about what it’s like to escape a communist country.”
Here we go, Nicole thought. Earlier, the woman had been catty, but now she sounded downright hostile. “You’re right,” Nicole admitted, trying to modulate the tone of her voice. “I don’t personally know what it’s like, but there are things such as history books and I have listened to other people’s accounts.”
Elena ignored her as if she hadn’t spoken at all and continued her diatribe with the others. “If the liberals ever get in again, who knows what will happen next? They will probably completely end the embargo and try to normalize relations with Cuba. Remember the eighties when they allowed that devil to dump his Mariel trash here?”
Several of the other relatives nodded in agreement. Nicole flinched. She knew a few African Cubans who had arrived during the infamous boat exodus who worked in the hospital. “All of them weren’t trash,” she said. “A lot of them were political prisoners, poets, writers and hard-working people who have gone on to do well.”
“And a good portion of them are in America’s prisons and mental institutions being supported by taxpayers’ money,” Elena snapped.
Nicole shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “Then I guess that means that the devil, as you call him, is very cunning.”
Elena sniffed. “You think Castro is a hero, don’t you?”
“I never said any such thing.” Nicole glanced at Julian again and this time his silence angered her.
“Excuse me, Elena,” Luis said. “It’s not proper to discuss politics over dinner, especially on Thanksgiving.”
The others buzzed their agreement, and the conversation shifted to sports and general gossip.
* * *
Julian struggled with an urge to get out of the room. The walls seemed to be closing in on him and the chatter sounded like the roar of the sea. It never failed. Every year, at every gathering, he would be okay for awhile and suddenly the flashbacks would start. This year was no different. In the past, the remedy had been alcohol, but this time it was not having the desired effect. He knew from experience how much he could tolerate without getting intoxicated, but lately his tolerance level had increased. It took more and more to get to a level where he could not be touched by the past. He wasn’t naïve. He did know that alcoholic pacification was a dangerous remedy, but as long as he didn’t need it every day, he knew it was still under control.
He saw himself, ten years old, in the kitchen of the neat but tiny house Elena and Luis used to have in Hialeah. He was standing at the sink washing dishes while the rest of the family had dinner.
&
nbsp; “Julian, come here and take care of the baby,” he heard Elena call out.
He remembered sullenly entering the kitchen and having the baby, Raul, thrust at him so he could change his diaper. He hadn’t been allowed to eat until all the relatives left the kitchen, and he had to clean up after them while Elena and the others sat in the living room laughing and talking.
“You know, that boy is getting so tall and skinny. He doesn’t look like Felicia at all,” said Aunt Isabella, adding disparagingly, “he looks more like his father.”
“Yes,” Elena agreed. “Julian’s not as dark, but he’s got a lot of his father’s features.”
“He’s very shy and backward too, isn’t he?”
“I guess he’s not all that bright,” Elena said. “But he’s a good worker. Go finish washing the dishes, Julian.”
“I’m not backward!” he cried out into a wall of silence. “I am bright. I’ll show you…you’ll see.”
“How was Spain, Julian?” A much older, wizened Aunt Isabella asked now.
Julian did not reply. He was still in the past. Concerned, Nicole nudged him. “Julian, your aunt’s speaking to you.”
“Huh? What?” The crash back to earth was jarring.
“How was Spain?” Aunt Isabella repeated, smiling. “You do so much traveling, I guess you must be exhausted.”
Julian smiled ironically. “Excuse me. I was daydreaming. I really have no reason to be tired since I’m not touring right now.” He went on to elaborate about his recent trip to Spain. Aunt Isabella and most of the others leaned forward to listen with rapt attention.
A servant entered the room and whispered something to Luis, who excused himself and exited to take a phone call. Almost immediately after Luis departed, Julian slipped back into his morose coma, and the incendiary political discussion ensued once again.
“The real problem with this country is that too much attention is paid to civil rights advocates,” Elena said. “That thing they call affirmative action should definitely be done away with. Those people want everything handed to them without doing the hard work like everyone else.”
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