Bella

by Lisa Samson

  What was this? Second grade?

  Manny stormed into the kitchen. “You just sneaking in and out? You weren’t going to say hello?”

  “I just came to pick up my phone and wallet, Manny.”

  Manny breathed through his nose, and his words issued through his teeth. “Yes . . . you forgot your phone. I called you. Mama called you too. I found time to call you.” And it was suddenly too much for him. José watched with awe as the dam of self-control gave way and his brother unloaded. “Even though we were short one chef during our lunch rush hours! Where were you, José, huh?”

  “I just went outside, Manny. That’s all I was planning to do.”

  There was no way Nina was going to go back into the restaurant, so she waited outside instead.

  She lit up a cigarette. She wasn’t a big-time smoker, only when life became a little stressful. Why am I doing this? I don’t even look like a real smoker.

  Nina hated things like this about herself. Relying on silly stuff like cigarettes and stupid guys like Pieter.

  And there was José inside, trying to be a good friend and a nice guy. She knew he wanted to tell her a thousand different reasons to keep her baby, but for some reason he couldn’t, as if he didn’t have the right. But he listened to her, and she couldn’t remember the last time somebody really did that for her.

  Sometimes Manny didn’t understand his brother. “You went outside? Marcos took some trash out. He didn’t see you outside. How far outside did you go, hermano, huh? Acapulco? Where were you? We were worried. We were busy and you bailed on us.” He jabbed a finger in José’s chest. “You abandoned your own flesh and blood!”

  José just needed to see sense. There, the mop. Manny grabbed it and shoved it toward his brother. “Here. You can make this up to me by cleaning up this mess! You’re lucky I don’t cut the whole staff and let you do it by yourself !”

  He walked away. Let José stew for a while.

  “Manny! Manny!” José called.

  He turned, feeling the lion of anger return. He knew what José was going to say because José was his brother and they knew these things.

  “I just came for my stuff. I have to do this now, Manny.” He handed Manny the mop.

  Manny threw the mop in the corner, knocking over a stack of cans. “What? What do you have to do?”

  “I have to go.”

  “What?!” Manny wanted to strangle him.

  The kitchen fell silent. The water stopped running. Knives stilled. People leaned in their direction. Manny looked around. “What’s everyone staring at? We have work to do.” He pointed at José. “You! In my office. Right now!”

  He would settle this immediately. As mad as he was, he couldn’t let his brother leave without him seeing things correctly.

  Besides, dinner prep needed to begin pronto.

  José followed Manny down the steps to the office. Manny could think what he wanted about José’s Spartan lifestyle, his cloistered ways, but Manny’s life revolved around the restaurant. It was a different kind of cloister. And even now, one of his former employees was in trouble, but as he saw it, she was out there and they were in here.

  José knew it was time to take a stand.

  Manny’s eyes blazed. “I called everyone. I called Mama and Papa. You left all of us when you walked out that door with your new friend.”

  Mama and Papa. Manny . . .

  “Two tables walked out on us today, José! Two! That’s never happened. Never. This is bad business, José, bad business.”

  That’s right, José realized. This wasn’t about family at all. “Everything to you is business. I’m sure everyone picked up the slack and got you and your restaurant through the day. But what are you doing for them?”

  Manny clenched his jaw. “Wait, wait, wait. Am I hearing this correctly?” He pointed toward the door. “Ask Amelia. She’s been here the whole time. She has four kids and commutes from the Bronx every day.”

  “She has three kids, Manny.”

  “She has kids!”

  “See? You don’t even know her and you’re giving the Amelia speech to me? How long have you been running this place? And how many times have you given Amelia a raise?” He made an O with his fingers. “Zero, Manny. Zero.”

  José watched his brother’s nostrils flare. Better just to get out of there. He turned.

  “Listen to me, niñito. Don’t tell me how to run my business. You work for me, and walk out on me? Your brother? The one who bailed you out and employed you?”

  José felt his heart speed up, anger running up from the base of his spine to flare over his head. “Manny . . . ,” he warned.

  “You just leave me for some late, drunk waitress? When did this happen?”

  José was finished. He loved his brother, but Manny could jump to conclusions so quickly. And dragging up the past like he’d done? He’d had enough.

  “You fired a pregnant woman, Manny.”

  He stormed back to the kitchen.

  Manny punched the wall in his office. José had heard that sound before.

  And then the subsequent pounding of his feet as he rushed up the steps. José sighed. So this wasn’t over yet. And poor Nina, waiting outside through all of this. He hoped she’d still be there.

  Manny grabbed José’s arm. “I didn’t know why she was late! All I knew was that she was late all the time!”

  “And you know she wasn’t always like that.” He pushed his hair back with a sigh. “Manny, she’s one of your best employees. Been here for four years. You ever stop to ask her what was going on?” José pointed to everyone around them. “You know anything about any of these people besides Amelia?”

  He might as well go all the way. He breathed in deeply. “You know anything more than the fact that Henry the bartender is making twice as much as Pepito, my cook? Why does Pieter always give better sections to Kevin than Margarita?”

  “Enough!” Manny straightened his tie and looked around him, a flush seeping from his collar up to his hairline. He pushed José toward the walk-in freezer and shut the door behind them.

  Manny pushed José’s shoulder. “What’s wrong with you? How do you get away with talking like that in front of my employees?”

  It always came down to pride with Manny. “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you, man? What is it with you? What is it?” José pushed Manny back. “Carlos, Carlos, one of your people, he’s below minimum wage, man. Why is that, huh? Oh, he doesn’t have papers? And you can get away with it?” He pushed open the door. “We all slave in the kitchen for you. It’s all about you, man!”

  José stormed out of the walk-in. Time to get out of here. “Enough of this talk about family,” he mumbled.

  Manny followed. “José!”

  José picked up a pot on the counter and turned on Manny. “This pot is the same one you bought eight years ago when you opened. It scorches because it’s old.” He pushed the pot into Manny’s chest. “Buy another one.”

  José cruised by Kevin, then by Pieter, staring a hole into him. “You got something to say?” he asked Pieter.

  Pieter’s face paled.

  If he could say one more thing . . . no. He’d already become angry enough. There was no telling what he’d do to Pieter once he got started.

  “You clean out your locker too! I’m done!” Manny hollered.

  José stopped, looked at his brother, and waved him off with a weary hand. He was done too. He couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

  “And call Mama. She’s worried.”

  I’ll bet she is, José thought.

  Thirteen

  Nina ground out the half-smoked cigarette beneath her heel. She wasn’t planning to keep this baby, but just in case . . . pregnancy or not, it wasn’t good to smoke, right? She had to rely on something other than cigarettes to get through the rest of this day. She stepped into a nearby convenience store to buy some snacks for the trip to the beach.

  Several minutes later, apples and water in her bag
, she waited back at her post, only imagining how Manny must have been reaming out his brother.

  José, hands balled up into clenched fists, pale with anger, stormed out of the restaurant, and right into traffic. Nina watched in horror as the driver of a maroon sedan jammed on his breaks and yelled out the window, “Hey, man! What are you tryin’ to do?”

  José stared at him, blinking, suddenly far away from the scene.

  Where did you go? Where do you go when that happens? she wondered.

  José shook his head and came to life again.

  She met him as he stepped up onto the curb. “Are you all right? What happened?”

  José shook his head, eyes moist. “Let’s go.”

  “Don’t tell me he fired you!”

  He just stared at her. Oh no.

  “I can’t believe him! He is such a piece of—”

  “He’s been good to me.”

  Okay, fine. Family loyalty and all that. She got it. She adjusted her purse. “I guess we did ruin his day.” She held up a shopping bag, made it a peace offering of sorts. “Got some things for the trip.”

  “Let’s go.”

  “Did Pieter say anything?”

  “No.”

  “Did you say anything to him about me?”

  “No. But I’m sure he guessed I knew.”

  That was okay with Nina. Let Pieter squirm a little bit. He deserved to.

  “Let’s get a train. I’m ready for the beach after all of that.”

  “Okay,” Nina said.

  They made their way to Penn Station. Nina thought about her decision. She could hardly blame this baby for canceling out her dreams. And she could hardly say it would keep her from reaching her goals. She’d done that on her own. It wasn’t going to be easy. Today would end and there’d be another day to make the real decision.

  They waited at a crosswalk near the station.

  “When did you know you wanted to be a dancer?” José asked.

  That was easy. “It was my father. He could cut quite the rug.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “American expression. He could really dance himself.”

  “Your father, eh? Not your mother?”

  “No. She’s the more quiet type. Sometimes I wondered how they ended up together. My father was from the South and he loved dancing and parties. My mom just wanted to be home with her ‘little family,’ as she always called us.” The light changed, and they crossed the street. “I knew I wanted to dance when my father told me one day that I had the prettiest arms he’d ever seen—”

  “You have nice arms.”

  “Thanks. And he told me I moved them gracefully.” She kicked up a foot. “My feet too.”

  José took her elbow as they stepped off the curb.

  “So, he asked if I wanted lessons, and after that first one, I just knew. Sometimes you feel like you were made to do something, be somebody.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  They stepped up onto the opposite curb, skirting around a group of people waiting for cabs.

  They entered the station.

  “Maybe, you go back and start dancing again.”

  “Not pregnant, I can’t.” There, let him chew on that.

  “Afterward.”

  “After what?”

  “After you have the baby.”

  They stopped by the ticket booth.

  “I told you—”

  “Yes, I know.” He put a couple of twenties on the counter. “Two tickets for Long Island.”

  Now this was a better train ride. José looked past Nina and out the window. He didn’t like subways much, but trains were another story altogether. The rhythm of the wheels on the tracks, the way the car swayed slightly, the soothing quality of scenery going by for you to see without the distraction of driving.

  Not that he’d driven for a long time. Not since that day.

  He closed his eyes.

  “I could really use a bath and some Marvin Gaye.” Nina’s voice brought him around.

  “You can take a bath at my parents’. They have Tito Puente. I don’t know about Marvin Gaye.”

  “I thought we were going to the beach.”

  “They live at the beach.”

  “And they probably know what happened at Manny’s today.”

  “Don’t worry.”

  Nina settled herself more comfortably in her seat. “Oh, I don’t worry. I used to worry, then I did a little research and I found out that ten out of ten people die.” She laid her hands on the armrest. “Do you think that is all there is? That we only live once?”

  “Well, so far I haven’t met anyone who’s lived twice.”

  There, that made her smile. Good. The beach was a good idea.

  “Nina, can I ask you a question?”

  “No.”

  He looked down at his hands. Well, okay.

  “I’m kidding!” She laughed. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Just ask!”

  Might as well just say it. This was what the day was supposed to be about. “Have you thought about adoption?”

  “Do we have to talk about this right now?”

  “No.”

  She looked out the window, then back at José. “I can’t carry around a living thing inside of my body for nine months and then—what? Leave it on a doorstep in a basket for some stranger? To me, that’s worse than anything.”

  “It doesn’t have to be a stranger.”

  Nina grated out a laugh. “So I just start calling up my relatives? My relative? ‘Hey, Mom, I haven’t talked to you in five years, but I got something for you!’ Or how about this? You can have it. I bet Manny could teach it a thing or two. The Suviran boys can raise little Nina because right now you’re probably the only one in the world I trust.”

  There. That should quiet him down. Put a little of the responsibility on him and see how far it goes from there on out. Maybe he’d head to the clinic with her next Wednesday. She didn’t know if she even wanted that, but going alone would be horrible. Somebody had to know in case she started bleeding afterward or something.

  She reached into the bag and pulled out a tart, green apple. Granny Smith. She handed it to José.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “You’re welcome.” Might as well have one too. Amazing how people continued to breathe, walk, ride trains, eat apples, when their lives were falling apart.

  The landscape sped by. Industrial buildings choked with smoke, and she hated cities so much. Why come to dance and then stay when the dream faded? That was silly. She bit into the apple. He bit into his again. Back and forth the sounds of their chomping cut the silence between them.

  It was nice.

  “Do you want to dance again?” José asked.

  “It’s been a long time. I’m not conditioned.”

  “I think you could do it.”

  Nina shook her head. “I believe you do.”

  She needed someone to believe in her. It had been so long.

  An hour later, they exited the train at the Hampton station. Nina wished she could have grown up at the beach. Memories of her father filled her.

  “Nina! Nina!”

  Oh. She’d turned the wrong way.

  José put an arm around her waist and directed her toward the stairs. They climbed up toward the sunlight and the smell of salty air.

  Fourteen

  The rusty gate to the front yard creaked in the wind, open to the street. “Loochi!”

  Celia ran, her shoes pounding the heated cement, sending the jarring contact up her spine to the base of her skull.

  And brakes squealed, and her child screamed, and a dull thump echoed across the face of the buildings.

  Oh, God. A silence settled the air in an instant.

  And Celia knew. She ran through the open gate. And Lucinda lay on the black road, limp. She threw aside the camera as the heat of fear slammed down onto her. “Loochi! No! No!”

  She ran to her child, barely noticing
the shiny black car. “No! Oh no!” she screamed, kneeling down next to Lucinda, the blood fanning from the little body out into the street, a river, a crimson river eating Celia alive, consuming her life, everything.

  She could barely breathe.

  “Somebody call an ambulance! Somebody help me!” She pressed her ear to the tiny chest. Nothing, not a sound.

  Oh no. Oh, God! Please!

  The face, so pale. The ponytails askew. No.

  Loochi. Oh my baby.

  The driver appeared, his face pale, his eyes drowned in shock. Celia turned on him. “No! You!” she screamed, raising her fists and beating him as he took her into his arms. “No,” she moaned. “No.”

  He whispered into her hair, trying to calm her.

  “No! Oh no!” She pushed away from him and took Lucinda into her arms. Feeling the tiny bones of her daughter’s legs and arms fall against her own.

  But something overtook her at the sight of Lucinda’s face. Dead and dead and dead. And a great groaning released from her core, accompanied by the oceans and oceans of love once destined to be released in gentle lappings, now spilled all at once onto her daughter, the street, the car, and the people now gathered on the sidewalk as she melted quickly into what all parents pray they’ll never become.

  Fifteen

  They walked from the train station to José’s house. Nina tasted the salty air as she inhaled through her nose, feeling that jangling roominess one experiences upon leaving the city for the first time in months. No tall buildings loomed overhead blocking air and sunshine, and vistas that reached farther than the next block.

  See, she thought, dancing is a little like this, a bit of spaciousness and freedom in a world where only those who can are allowed it. And she could. She could move her feet and sway her arms gracefully, that taut yet somehow fluid arc of movement. It wasn’t with pride she thought about it, but with a sense of accomplishment.

  Well, she used to feel that way anyway. She hadn’t danced a step in a year. Every once in a while she stretched in front of the TV, but that was the extent of it there in her cramped apartment.

  She breathed in again, louder this time.

  “This is good?” José asked.