Midnight Brunch

by Marta Acosta

  Ian, the only one who had not worn the weird robes and the only one who had spoken out against Willem, sauntered over to me. “Milagro, so good to see you again.” As he kissed me on the cheeks, he said sotto voce, “I like this dress even better than the one you had on earlier.”

  “Nice to see you, too, Ian. How’ve you been?” I was conscious that Oswald was not nearby.

  “Oh, feeling rather sentimental of late. My sister sends her love.”

  The last time I’d laid eyes on his sister, Cornelia, she was spitting venomously because I’d stopped seeing Ian. “Tell her that I miss her just as much as she misses me,” I said. “Are you staying in town?”

  “I’m driving to the City tonight. Would you like to join me?”

  “Thank you, but no. I have to head there anyway in a few days for my friend’s wedding.”

  “You don’t look happy about it.”

  “Oswald will be gone and I’m going to look like such a pathetic loser all by myself,” I blurted. “He has an excellent reason for not joining me. He’s going to the border to do pro bono work for children, and that’s wonderful, but…”

  “But?” he said.

  “But I really don’t fit in with my friend’s friends. They completely ignore me.”

  “No one should ignore you, Young Lady. If you will permit, I would like to escort you.”

  “Really?” I quickly weighed the pros and cons of this scenario. What harm could come of attending a public event with Ian? “Okay, but I don’t think we need to tell Oswald. He’s got some Issues about our, um, friendship.” I gave Ian the phone number of my friend Mercedes so we could coordinate when I was in the City.

  Later, in the Love Shack, I lay in bed and watched Oswald checking his luggage. He was driving to the airport tomorrow after breakfast.

  “Do you think Gabriel’s okay?” I asked.

  Oswald frowned. “He’s a resilient guy. He’ll come out of this fine.”

  “At least Ian spoke up for him.”

  Oswald gave me an irritated look. “Did you have a nice reunion with him?”

  “Yes, I did. He told me that his sister sends her love. I told him I reciprocated her feelings.” Oswald and Cornelia used to be friends, so I asked, “I always thought that Cornelia had a thing for you. I overheard her say something once about ‘sharing lovers’ with you.”

  “Not lovers, blubber. We took a trip to the Arctic once and had a traditional Inuit meal.”

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  “Yes, and I’ll believe that Ian didn’t make a pass at you.”

  This seemed like a reasonable agreement. I asked Oswald, “Your supplies will be delivered, right?” He could go for days without drinking blood, but he’d languish.

  “The bio firm will have a delivery for me the day after tomorrow.” He pulled a folder out of his leather messenger bag and examined a few pages. “Here’s a copy of my itinerary. I might not be able to call, but leave a message for anything important. Or anything at all.”

  “There’s not going to be any emergency. Don’t worry about me.” I crawled out of bed and put my arms around him. “You’re wonderful and amazing, and I’m sure everything will go brilliantly.”

  Unfortunately, predicting the future was not one of my talents.

  Five

  Bad to the Bone

  A gentle prodding awoke me. I reached out for Oswald and touched fur. Daisy was standing beside the bed, her head resting on my pillow, her nose an inch from my face. Her amber eyes gazed solemnly at me. When she saw that I was awake, she did a little skittering dance of happiness, her nails clicking on the hardwood floor.

  I glanced at the clock and saw that it was already late. Hopping out of bed, I hurried to the kitchen and scooped kibble into a bowl for Daisy. Then I pulled on jeans and a light sweater and put my hair in a ponytail. I brushed my teeth, dashed on some mascara and gloss, and ran to the Big House.

  Oswald was sitting outside, drinking coffee with his father. I threw my arms around him and gave him a kiss. “Morning.”

  “Morning, babe. I was letting you sleep in. There’s a fresh pot of coffee.”

  I went inside and poured a mug. “Where’s Gabriel?” I asked Edna.

  “He had to take care of some business,” she said.

  The relatives were talking about their sightseeing plans. They were going to take Libby with them, so I extricated her from Winnie’s arms and took her to the study with me for a few minutes of quality time. We settled in the desk chair and I put my feet on the desk. She grinned gummily and made a grab for my hair.

  I stared into her huge brown eyes and all I saw was a little girl I loved. “You are a normal girl,” I told her. “Very special, but normal.”

  “No, she isn’t.”

  Oswald’s mother, Evelyn, stepped into the study and closed the door behind her.

  I took my feet off the desk and sat up straight.

  “She’s not a normal baby and she’s not going to have a normal life.” Mrs. Grant sat on the sofa.

  I got that sinking “Miss De Los Santos, the dean would like to have a word with you” feeling. “She’s got a genetic condition,” I said. “Lots of people have genetic conditions.”

  “Not like ours,” Evelyn said, and then sighed. “I believe my son thinks he loves you, Milagro, but do you really love him or are you impressed by his position and money?”

  “Mrs. Grant, I fell for Oswald when I thought he was an unemployed slacker. I wasn’t hunting for a rich man.”

  “Say you do love him, are you going to want to stay with him when you can’t have children together?”

  “You don’t know that.” Oswald and I had not even discussed marriage yet.

  She repeated what I’d already heard from Winnie: centuries before, children born from intermarriage with outsiders died at high rates. “Could you bear to see your child die?” she asked. “Could Oswald bear it? How long would it be before you blame and hate each other?”

  Tears welled in my eyes and I turned my face down toward the baby.

  “Let him go, Milagro. Let him have a chance at having a family of his own.”

  I wanted to say, “He is my family. This is my family.” But it wasn’t. They still hid things from me and left me out.

  “We are happy,” I said in a thick voice.

  “Don’t be selfish. If you love him, you’ll do what’s best for him. You’re young and attractive enough, I suppose. You’ll get married and have children and forget all about Oswald.”

  “We can adopt,” I said. “Or get a sperm donor.” Why was I even discussing this with her? “We can take a child left at the mall.” The year after my grandmother died, my mother Regina left me in a shopping mall. I sat on a bench, euphoric with the hope that some kind family would take me home with them. The cleaning lady who found me was unconvinced that I was an orphan.

  “You may be Mother Edna’s little pet, but I don’t find you very amusing,” she said. “With Winnie, he had a future with a woman who knew how to behave decently in public. Before you stole him away with your trashy ways.”

  “Oswald never loved Winnie. He loves me. You know that or you’d be talking to him.”

  She stared me directly in the eye. “Of course I have, Milagro. I told him to give you enough money so you can get an apartment somewhere and pay for expenses until you find a real job. I hope he’ll think about it while he’s away. It would be the best thing for all concerned—even you.” She stood up. “Don’t doubt that I will do anything I can to make sure my son has a happy life.” She left the room, shutting the door after her.

  I had a difficult time controlling myself long enough to return Libby to her mother and get back to the shack without anyone else seeing me.

  Oswald was in the bedroom picking up his suitcase and briefcase. “Time for me to go,” he said before he saw my face. “Milagro? Is anything wrong?”

  My face felt hot and tears welled in my eyes. “Is anything wrong? Yes, everyt
hing is wrong,” I shouted. “Your mother hates me and she wants you to pay me to go away. You invited a bigot here and you keep secrets from me.”

  Oswald shook his head. “I don’t have time for this right now.”

  “You’d have time if you’d told me these things before instead of telling me your mother would love me and then trying to keep me in the shack, away from your very important friends and relatives.”

  “Willem Dunlop is not a friend. I only had him here because it was important to Winnie and Sam’s parents. As for my mother, I’m a grown man and I make my own decisions.”

  “What about all the secrets you keep from me? How come you never really explained how your people live?”

  “Because I can’t count on you to be discreet,” he said angrily. “You can’t even behave politely for a few hours with my parents. No, you take off and start partying in the winery with a bunch of beach bums.”

  “It’s not as if any of you were paying attention to me. I didn’t even get to ride the funicular!”

  “What are you, twelve?” he said coldly. “That afternoon wasn’t for you, it was for my parents. But you always need people to pay attention to you. Isn’t that why you wore that dress for Ian last night? And then you tell me there’s nothing between you.”

  “You bought me that dress, Oswald. You’re the one who bought all the hoochie-mama clothing—but maybe that’s how you think of me, as just your little sex toy!” I’d crossed the line from hurt to pure blue anger.

  “Stop being ridiculous. If I wanted just a sex toy, I would get someone who wasn’t as much trouble as you. My life is more complicated than you can understand. I have to balance a lot of competing interests, keep my business going, deal with life and death every single day, and then come home to the demands of my family and you. And I always, always have to think about keeping my family safe.”

  We’d had arguments, but he’d never taken this harsh tone with me. “I apologize if I’ve been so demanding, Dr. Grant. Forgive me for presuming that I was worth your time.” At least this is what I tried to say. My words were garbled by my sobs. “At least I never nearly killed you.” As soon as the words came out, I wished I could grab them back again.

  “I knew you’d throw that in my face one day. It was an accident, and I’m sorry, Milagro. I will always be sorry.” He looked beaten, but I wasn’t happy for the victory.

  “Are you sorry that you met me?”

  “We’ll deal with this when I get back. I left some cash on the kitchen table for groceries or whatever.”

  Oswald walked out of the room. I ran to the kitchen and grabbed the money. As he was opening the front door, I threw the cash at him and yelled, “I don’t want your damn money! I don’t want anything from you.”

  He gave me one long furious look and walked off toward the car park. I slammed the front door and cried a million tears.

  When I was dehydrated from crying, I picked myself up off the sofa and drank a bottle of water. Desperate times called for desperate measures. I needed guidance from my own spiritual rock. I’d been planning on staying with my best friend, Mercedes, for the wedding, and I was sure she’d enjoy having me a day early.

  First I dropped off Petunia at the barn, so that Ernie could make sure she was safe in the coop at night. I told him I was leaving Daisy there, so he would include her in runs with the other dogs. As I returned to the Love Shack, I scoped out the car park. The relatives had already gone for the day.

  I listlessly packed my clothes and remembered that I needed accessories. I crawled behind the racks in the closet to find the box where I’d hidden the gifts from Ian. There was an enameled fountain pen with gold filigree, an ornate necklace of dark red stones and matching earrings, bracelets that chimed together gently when worn, a small portrait in a locket, carved obsidian animals, and various other trinkets.

  Each item was beautiful.

  I packed the earrings and necklace, along with the obsidian animals, which Mercedes would like. I put drops in my eyes to clear the redness and dabbed concealer to cover the shadows under my eyes. Then I hauled my things to my truck and went in the Big House and found Edna.

  “I’m leaving early to spend time with Mercedes,” I said with false cheerfulness. “Thanks for telling Oswald about the clothes.”

  She lifted her eyebrows. “I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known he was going to buy that scanty excuse for a dress you wore yesterday.”

  “Look who’s judging me,” I said more sharply than I intended. “I mean, you must have worn outrageous things, too.” She knew something was wrong and didn’t respond.

  “Edna, please tell everyone good-bye for me and be sure to say that I hope to see them when they visit again.”

  “Young Lady, should I be concerned about you?”

  “You know me,” I said with a smile. “I can take care of myself.”

  “They’ll be gone soon and things will get back to normal,” she said. “Oh, a package came for you this morning.”

  I hugged her briefly, afraid that if I held on I would relapse into tears. “Bye, Edna. I’ll be home soon.”

  I grabbed the cardboard box on my way out. The return label was from a telecommunications company, and I was so curious I opened it once I got in my truck.

  Inside was a nifty little phone, packing papers, and one of those “A Gift From” cards that said, “Dear Miss De Los Santos, Thank you for being so understanding when we met. Here is a small gift to commemorate the beginning of our friendship. Sincerely, Silas Madison. P.S. I have taken care of all charges and fees for one year.”

  His thoughtfulness really touched me, especially since I was feeling so tender and vulnerable.

  I took off toward the City, stopping at my favorite burger joint for lunch and to examine my new phone. Mercedes was the first one I called.

  She hadn’t yet left for My Dive, the club she owned. “ ’lo,” she said briskly.

  “Hola, Señorita Ochoa-McPherson.” Mercedes’s mother was a Cuban immigrant and her father came from Scotland.

  “Hi, Mil, can we talk tomorrow? I’m out the door.”

  “It’s your lucky day. I’ll be there in about an hour or so.”

  She said a few rude words in both Spanish and English. “I’ll be at the club. You still have my spare key?”

  “Absolutely. I visit your house when you’re gone and move things around to make you feel crazy, like in that movie Gaslight.”

  “Milagro,” she said, “all you have to do is show up to make me feel crazy.”

  “I love you, too. Will you be home late?”

  “No sé. We’re booked for a corporate party tonight so they may be gone by ten or hang on,” she said. “Come by if you want to. I’ll put your name on the list.”

  “Ha, ha, and ha. As if I ever needed to be on a list with Lennie working the door.”

  “I’m only comping you one drink. Don’t forget to tip.”

  “I always tip. Later, mi amor.”

  While the rest of the world was enjoying warm weather, the City was shrouded in fog. The diffused light softened the edges of buildings, like gel on a lens. The old girl was past her heyday, but still quite a looker.

  Mercedes’s two-story house was the nicest one on the block, but now neighbors were beginning to restore their small Victorians and Edwardians. Bay windows had been repaired, facades repainted, and fanciful gingerbread trim reattached.

  Mercedes was only a few years older than me, but she’d packed a lot of work into those years by dropping out of college and getting a high-tech job. She’d bought a seedy nightclub in foreclosure and the house when the neighborhood was downright scary. Tenants in the first-floor flat helped pay the mortgage for the house, and the club was doing well.

  I drove around the neighborhood for ten minutes looking for parking. When a space opened up across the street from her house, I took it as a good omen. I unlocked the front door and lugged my things upstairs to her cozy flat.

  The place wa
s very attractive and decorated with an eclectic selection of comfortable furniture, original prints, and warm colors. There was a place for everything and everything was in its place.

  Being at Mercedes’s made me feel as though I was on the edge of illumination. She had a rational, dispassionate approach to life, and she would make sense out of Oswald’s blow-up, doddering bigots, albino acolytes, spooky costume dramas, and irrational women who wanted to get rid of their sons’ delightful girlfriends. She would tell me that I was being too emotional, too paranoid, and too insecure. She would make the world right again.

  I flicked on the sound system and music filled the room. After a few seconds of thinking really hard, I recognized Ellington’s thrilling Far East Suite. Mercedes, the daughter of classically trained musicians who were also ethnomusicologists, had spent a lot of time giving me a musical education.

  Singing “dadda-dah-dah-dah” along with Ellington as best I could, I unpacked my things, made a pot of Darjeeling tea, and then called my friends to tell them I finally had my own phone number. When they asked how things were going with my beau, I told them that everything was fabulous.

  In the bedroom, Mercedes had a long desk on one wall with three computers. She was a geek who secretly indulged in hacking. She used her powers for good, not evil, though, and her skills had helped extricate me from SLIME’s nefarious clutches.

  I hung my dress in her closet and checked her bathroom to see if she had any interesting new products. I found a bottle of Obsession that looked as if it had never been used. I spritzed it in the air and walked through it.

  Although the home values had increased in the neighborhood, there was still a dangerous edge of gang activity. When I went out to pick up something for dinner, I saw a few cholos kicking back on a corner ahead, all elaborate black tattoos, perfectly pressed pants, and deadly attitude. I crossed the street, buttoned my jacket to cover up, and kept my gaze straight ahead.