by Xenia Ruiz
“That’s an interesting theory, but I think the writers would probably disagree with you.”
“Of course they would. They wouldn’t have been able to make all the money they did if they had concentrated on the spiritual subtext.”
I put the movie into the VCR and pressed the rewind button. We both listened to the tape rewinding noisily, not saying anything.
“Sooo …? You coming over or what?” I knew she wouldn’t take me up on my offer, but part of me hoped she would surprise me.
She didn’t answer and I imagined her clasping her hands, debating.
And then I heard the slight interruption of her call-waiting signal. “Thank God for call-waiting,” I said in jest. “Or should I say AT&T?”
CHAPTER 15
EVA
WHEN MAYA INVITED me to Adam’s house for a barbecue, initially I told her I didn’t want to go. Apparently, Luciano was throwing the barbecue as a thank-you to Adam for giving him a place to stay when his wife kicked him out. He had finally moved into his brother’s house, or so he said. More and more, I was beginning to dislike the idea of Maya having a life on the side with Luciano like they were a couple, and especially when she included me. Then she said Luciano specifically wanted me to come, that he wished we could get to know each other. I believed the get-together was merely an excuse for him to spend more time with Maya, but I was looking forward to the chance to tell him what I thought of him, in person. If he wanted to get to know me, he was going to find out why they really called me “Evileen.”
Adam’s loft was located in an old part of the city where my family had once lived years ago, before it became prime real estate. His building, and the ones in the surrounding area, had once been factories that had employed the working class in the sixties and seventies. As I knocked on the door, I could hear India.Arie’s album, Acoustic Soul, echoing from inside the loft. The door was opened by a miniature and feminine version of Adam, his sister, Jade. Her hair was a lighter shade of brown, bordering on dirty blonde, and she looked more like she was in her early twenties than thirty.
“Are Kia and Daelen here?” I asked her.
She appeared taken aback that I knew her children’s names. After recovering from her initial surprise, she said their grandmother had taken them to an arts and crafts show. She then introduced me to her date, Akil, whose name and face looked a little familiar.
“I know you, don’t I?” I asked him as we shook hands. Akil was not a common name.
“I don’t know. Do you work at U of C?”
“No, Chicago U.” Then I recalled from where I remembered him. “You go to TCCC?”
“Used to. I live on the North Side now, so I go to Evangel Church of Christ.”
“Okay. What a small world.”
We talked a little about Pastor Zeke and which members were still at TCCC, which ones had left. Jade watched our interaction quietly, but not with jealousy, more like amicable curiosity. I remembered Adam saying she had just started seeing Akil, so perhaps it was important to her that everyone liked him.
I held up the covered dish of rice and beans toward Jade. “I brought a dish.”
“Great. You can put it in the kitchen. Adam’s in there.”
Even though there was a smile on her face, I could see her scrutinizing me with her hazel eyes. I had tried not to get too dressed up, picking an off-white sarong and peasant blouse, but under Jade’s questioning eyes, I wondered if I looked desperate for her brother’s attention.
Adam’s place was a typical bachelor’s pad, a spacious loft with lots of glass, leather, and art deco furniture. I could see almost every room from the door’s entrance, except for the bathroom and bedroom. The loft had pale oak hardwood floors throughout and floor-to-ceiling windows where a faint outline of Chicago’s Gold Coast skyline could be seen in the distance. With the exception of a few splashes of red in the throw pillows and scattered rugs, everything was black, white, and gray. There were a few abstract paintings and African sculptures on the exposed brick walls and some framed photos on the coffee and end tables.
On the balcony, I saw Simone with Ian, the owner of the hair salon. She was sitting on his lap like he was Santa Claus. Ian was fifteen years older than Simone and treated her like a daughter; in fact, he called her “Babygirl” and she called him “Daddy.” Maya was leaning against Luciano, who was tending to the grill. He saluted me with the barbecue fork. I wasn’t ready to interact with them just yet. I waved and continued toward the kitchen.
From the kitchen, Adam looked up slightly where he was bent over the sink, a smile slowly spreading across his face as I got closer. The way he was looking at me, his head down, his liquid eyes peering from under his shaggy raised eyebrows, made me feel suddenly flushed.
“Hey there. You didn’t have to bring anything,” he said, as he rinsed off two chickens in a bowl of water and vinegar.
“Hello,” I said holding out the dish. “It’s just rice and beans.”
His eyes lit up. “Red beans and rice?”
“We say ‘rice and beans.’ It’s a Puerto Rican staple.”
“It’s also a New Orleans Creole dish. My ma’s people are from there.”
“Well, these here beans are from a can, and the rice is from a box, courtesy of Goya,” I quipped.
“You mean they’re not homemade? Oh, you’re bogus.” He laughed.
“Hey, when you’re a single mom, you learn to cut corners. They taste homemade. At least that’s what the labels say.” I laughed along with him.
I set the dish on the stove and leaned against the granite countertop.
“Cool hat,” he said, inspecting my straw Panama hat with an amused look. “Have a seat. There’re some drinks in the fridge. Pop, iced tea. Sparkling white grape juice.” Seeing my curious look, he smiled and said, “Somebody introduced me to it.”
I noticed there was also beer in the fridge and wondered who was drinking, but I didn’t ask. “I really like your place,” I said, pouring myself a tall glass of iced tea.
“Thanks.”
“I love this song,” I commented, nodding to India.Arie’s “Brown Skin.”
“It’s one of my favorites, too.”
I watched him as he skillfully cut the chickens into quarters, the sinewy muscles taut on his scarred arms. Forcing myself to look away, I glanced around the kitchen: the spotless stainless-steel fridge and stove, white oak cabinets, and bare granite countertops; nothing out of place.
“I haven’t bought her new CD yet but I heard it was fierce,” I commented.
“I have it. I can burn it for you if you want. Then we’ll be even.”
“Thanks.” When my eyes roamed back around to him, I caught him staring at me as he blindly and expertly excised the chicken’s innards. I cleared my throat. “Do you like Tracy Chapman? That’s who India reminds me of.”
“Ah, the original neo-soul girl,” he said favorably. “I haven’t played her in a while. I got a few of her albums.”
“Did Maya tell you we used to live not far from here? Back in the seventies, our parents had an apartment near Chicago Avenue and Noble.”
“The neighborhood was really different then.”
“Yeah, I can’t believe how it’s changed,” I said wistfully. “Pretty soon they’ll be knocking down the projects and the Y.”
We delved into a conversation about the pros and cons of gentrification—though we both agreed there were few pros—and the long history of housing segregation in Chicago. After a while, Jade and Akil, followed by Simone and Ian, wandered into the kitchen and joined the discussion.
It was apparent that Jade was very possessive of her older brother, affectionately punching his arm or hugging him as they teased each other. She touched Adam more than she did her date. It was almost as if she wanted to prove to everyone that no one was closer to him than she was.
Before long, Luciano and Maya came into the kitchen. They were holding hands and it irritated me, more so than watching them kiss tha
t first night.
“I thought the party was on the balcony,” Luciano said.
“We were just going out there,” Adam told him. “Eva brought some rice and beans.”
“Some Cubano beans?” he asked.
“No, Puerto Rican beans,” I said.
“Puerto Ricans don’t know beans about beans.”
“What makes you such an expert? You’re only half Latino,” I blurted out. The silence that followed was thick with discomfort. Maya shot me a venomous look that could’ve burned a hole through me if she had had super powers. Luckily, India.Arie’s cut “I See God in You” began to skip and everyone volunteered to fix it, leaving me and Adam to deal with the uneasiness that still hung in the air. As he meticulously sprinkled seasoned salt and pepper over the chicken, he glanced periodically at me from under his brows, waiting, I guess, for me to say something.
“I’m sorry about that,” I said, burying my face behind my glass of tea.
“You don’t have to apologize to me.”
“Yeah, I do. That was petty. Maybe I should go.”
“No, you shouldn’t. Luciano isn’t the sensitive type. He’ll get over it.”
“Look, I know he’s your boy and all. And I have nothing against him, I just don’t like him in my sister’s life. I don’t trust any man who’s unfaithful to his wife.”
“I thought you said it was her life and all you could do was pray.”
I held his gaze for a few seconds. “You sure have a good memory.”
“Besides, your sister is cheating on her husband, isn’t she? Do you trust her to make her own decisions? Her own mistakes?”
“No. A woman is … A lot of women are different in situations like this. They’re vulnerable and fall harder than men. Most of the time they’re doing it out of spite but they end up falling harder for the guy. Men can have flings and move on. It’s harder for women to recover.”
“If Maya’s marriage is strong, if she really loves her husband, then she will overcome this. If it breaks up, then maybe it was inevitable. Now, let’s go and enjoy ourselves.”
Adam grabbed the aluminum pan full of seasoned chicken as I followed him to the balcony, carrying my dish. “And play nice,” he added.
“I’ll try.”
It was an Indian summer day, unseasonably hot for the middle of fall, the wind deceptively warm and breezy. Luciano avoided all eye contact and conversation with me, which was just fine. I saw him devouring the rice and beans though, along with a couple of beers. I tried to catch Maya’s reaction to his drinking, but she, too, was dodging my eyes. As much as I regretted being nasty to him in public, I hoped he got the message that we were never going to be friends.
I felt slightly uncomfortable since it appeared everyone was supposed to be paired up and Adam and I were presumably a “couple,” even though technically, we weren’t. We were the only ones not standing or sitting near each other, or touching. Adam was busy tending the meat on the grill because, according to everyone, his barbecue was legendary, even though Luciano was supposedly the host. There was plenty of conversation going around so that it was more of a fun group affair than an intimate event and for that, I was grateful. Occasionally, our eyes locked and I was thankful for my hat and sunglasses so he couldn’t tell when I was watching him. And I couldn’t help but watch him: the way his royal blue T-shirt hugged his upper arms; the way his faded relaxed jeans fell loosely below his waist, snug at the hips; the way he attended to his guests, and joked around with his sister, displaying his generosity and affection. And the way he put up with Luciano. Only a true friend would tolerate someone so crass and immature. God, I thought, why not him?
Somehow I was unofficially appointed the DJ, which gave me a chance to get away from the couples whenever the discs needed changing on the five-disc CD stereo. Adam and I had similar music tastes like seventies’ funk and early Prince, but he also had a lot of CDs by jazz artists whom I had never heard of, even though I liked the genre. The only gospel album I saw was Yolanda Adams. I inspected the few framed photos in his entertainment center: a picture of him with his mother and sister at his college graduation; one of his sister and her children against a Christmas background; and one of his two little brothers, Justin and Ricky, taken at Six Flags Great America. There was none of his father.
“You’re doin’ good, Mizz DJ,” Adam commented when he came in to check on me.
“I can’t find any of your Chapman’s,” I told him.
He sat down next to me on the floor and hunted through the racks. “They’re in here somewhere. They can’t all be missing.” He began pulling out handfuls of CD cases, at first skimming through them slowly, then searching like a madman. “I had four or five of them. They can’t—”
Then he stopped as if suddenly remembering where they were, or rather, who might have taken them. After Victor and I split up, he took my Celia Cruz CDs, not because he liked her music, but because he knew how much I did and he thought I was going to beg him for them.
“Alphabetical order usually works,” I told him.
“Oh, like your library of books,” he kidded.
I looked at him puzzled and then remembered that he had been in my house. He met my eyes and then we both looked away at the same time. I sensed that he was remembering the same thing: the kiss. When I returned my gaze, he acted as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know if he should.
“Hey!” Luciano yelled from the balcony. “Come out here, you lovebirds! I’m about to make a toast.”
Adam flashed a vicious look at Luciano who had already turned his back. I got up from the floor slightly self-conscious.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, as we walked to the balcony.
“How old did you say he was?” I asked flippantly to lessen Luciano’s adolescent remark.
Adam smirked, but I could tell he was just as bothered by the comment.
Luciano threw his arm around Adam’s shoulders and shook him as soon as he stepped onto the balcony. “I just wanted to say that this dude, this dude, is the best kind of friend anybody can ever have,” Luciano said. It was evident by his speech and his narrowed eyes that he was slightly drunk. “Whatever you need, he’s always there for you. Except he doesn’t keep enough food in the house.”
“Enough for me,” Adam said sarcastically, looking a little embarrassed and scratching the back of his neck.
“One of these days, this man’s going to make some woman a perfect husband, a little too perfect, I think. The man even cleans his own place, and cooks. But that’s the way ladies like ’em. Faithful, affectionate, submissive—just like a dog, right, Dawg?”
Another uncomfortable silence ensued, followed by the clearing of throats and averting of eyes. The music was flowing, so there was no excuse to leave the room this time. I finally met Maya’s eyes and I gave her a look that said, This is the man you want to he with? When she turned away, I knew she read my mind.
Adam nudged Luciano’s arm off his shoulder and shook his head. I squinted at the skyline. I was ready to go home.
“Get away from that railing,” Jade said, pulling Luciano away from Adam. “Before Adam pushes you over.”
“I’m just messing with you, bruh,” Luciano protested over his shoulder, as he was led inside.
“Whatever,” Adam said, putting out the embers in the grill. I waited for him to look at me so he could see my empathetic expression, but he didn’t glance up for a long time.
For the remainder of the evening, I had succeeded in steering clear of Luciano, then, just as I was about to leave, I went to the bathroom and almost ran into him exiting. As he passed me, he flashed me a forced smile, but I stared straight ahead like he was invisible.
In keeping with the decor of the rest of the apartment, Adam’s bathroom was black, white, and gray, with splashes of red in the towels and accessories, and just as immaculate. I wondered if he had a cleaning lady or if he really did his own housekeeping. I couldn’t resist peeking into the medicine cabine
t, where I found the expected shaving products and equipment, hair oil, and several expired prescription bottles: naproxen sodium, Tylenol with codeine, and Vicodan. From my vast history with analgesics, I knew they were strong pain medications.
When I came out of the bathroom, I was startled to find Luciano leaning against the opposite wall.
“Can I speak to you for a minute?” he asked.
I stood in the bathroom doorway, away from him, and crossed my arms and waited, my face impassive.
“I just wanted to apologize for the crack I made about Ricans and beans. It was out of line. Even though I was kidding.”
I wasn’t planning to apologize but since he was being civilized, or at least pretending to, I decided to meet him halfway. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have snapped on you.” But I’m glad I did, I thought wickedly.
“I asked Maya to invite you because I wanted us to get to know each other better. It’s important for her that we get along. For some reason. She doesn’t want you to hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” I said, which was the truth. I didn’t like the way he added “for some reason.” Like he didn’t care one way or another if I liked him or not. At least the feeling was mutual.
“You don’t like me very much.”
“I don’t know you.”
“Exactly. If you knew me, you’d know that I care a lot about Maya.”
“Well, I love her. And I don’t want her to make a mistake she’ll regret just because she wants to get back at her husband.”
“Is that what you think she’s doing? I knew Maya before she met Alex.”
For some reason, hearing my brother-in-law’s name coming out of Luciano’s mouth really bothered me. He was getting too familiar. “I knew Maya way before she met you.”
His eyes narrowed as he looked down at me, breathing hard through his nose like a bull about to charge. I got the feeling that he was the kind of man who would hit a woman if he thought he could get away with it. I reminded myself that he was inebriated and that I didn’t really know him and those two circumstances together could lead to unpredictable consequences. But I didn’t allow him to intimidate me and I held his glaring eyes with my own.