Esmeralda Vargas looked the same as she had since Jessica had been a child, except that now her bushy hair had a little less black and a little more gray. She still wore a long, colorful dress and a handful of silver rings. She, too, was on the phone. Her other hand held an unlit cigarette that she used to wave Jessica into a chair. While Jessica waited, she looked around at the photographs that covered every spare inch of the office and chronicled ALMA’s growth from a small neighborhood youth group to the citywide arts organization it was today. Some of these, too, were by Jessica, taken with her digital camera. And, still in its corner behind the door, was the old snapshot of Marisol and herself. Jessica loved that picture. It showed them at nine years old, painting in the same summer art class that ALMA held today.
It was funny . . . her happy memories of ALMA were what had inspired her to major in art history in the first place. And now here she was, working in insurance. And still doing art for ALMA, although it was a different kind of art altogether.
“Listen, Jessica, I’m not going to be here for your meeting after all.” Esmeralda’s voice was a smoky rasp. “I have to go and take care of something. But Lupe and Djomme are waiting for you in classroom two. Did Marisol tell you about the grant money, how it’s going to be less than we thought?”
“Yes,” said Jessica.
“Yes, just one moment, please,” Esmeralda said into her phone. Then she covered it with her hand and looked at Jessica. “Then you’ve been thinking of ways to scale down the site?”
“Actually, Esmeralda, I’m not going to. I’m going to do the same amount of work, for whatever you guys can afford to pay me.”
If Jessica had expected Esmeralda to jump for joy at this news, it would be because she didn’t know the older woman as well as she thought she did. Esmeralda narrowed her eyes and nodded slowly, holding her cigarette as if she wished it were lit. “All right. Thank you, Jessica. I appreciate it.”
She was, now as in Jessica’s childhood, a woman of little outward emotion. Which was probably a good thing, Jessica thought as she carried her laptop case and portfolio down the hall to classroom 2, considering all the stress that went into running a nonprofit.
Right outside classroom 2 there was a child’s drawing of a big smiling sun. Jessica smiled back at it. It was obviously a good sign.
It had been the most unconstructive meeting of Jessica’s life, she reflected as she drove home two and a half hours later. Her mission had been to show the site to ALMA’s two art instructors and discuss any changes they wanted made. Lupe and Djomme, it turned out, had completely unrealistic expectations. For instance, they didn’t want ALMA’s site to be rectangular. After talking with them for just a few minutes, Jessica had discovered that neither of them had any experience with web sites or computer applications.
Jessica had been forced to take a step backward and give them a quick lesson in the fundamentals of web design, explaining JPEGs and resolution, format, and fonts.
Then, when she’d explained her vision for ALMA’s site, they’d completely ignored the content and, instead, asked tons of questions about the images and colors she’d used. Djomme had wanted to know, in particular, how she’d made one of his murals into a watermark background. So Jessica had spent the last hour of the meeting explaining digital photography and Photoshop.
At least they’d picked it up pretty quickly, she thought as she turned onto her street. It’d been easier than teaching Mr. Cochran to use his e-mail, at any rate. In the end, she’d had to promise to teach them more later in order to get out the door. And still she’d had to schedule another meeting, hopefully for a time when Esmeralda and other business-minded people would be able to attend.
Now, she thought as she climbed the stairs to her apartment door for the last time that day, if only it were that easy to fix things with Sabrina and her parents.
24
She really did feel bad about what she’d said to Sabrina. Still, she wished Sabrina hadn’t felt the need to bring their mother into it. But then again, she told herself, it was just as likely that Mami had decided to get into it all on her own.
After she’d set down her things and changed out of her work clothes, Jessica carried her phone to the couch and called the kitten to come to her. He was busy playing with one of the toys she’d bought him and ignored her coaxing. Without an excuse to put it off any longer, Jessica called her parents’ house. Her father answered the phone.
“Hello.”
“Papi? Hi. How are y’all doing?”
“Not good,” he said. “Your mother’s all pissed off at me for nothing.”
“For nothing? What happened, Papi?” Jessica hoped her earlier phone conversation with her mother hadn’t started another argument between her parents.
“I don’t know,” her father said, sounding completely exasperated. “She came home from work and saw that there was a ring on the table, from water or something.”
Immediately, an image popped into Jessica’s mind. The image was of a Tecate can sitting on the coffee table, without a coaster.
“Then,” her father continued, “it was like she turned crazy. She started yelling all this stuff that didn’t make any sense.”
“Like what?”
“All this stuff about my drinking and how I forgot to mow the lawn, and then something about how I made you be mean to your sister. Seriously, m’ija, I was afraid she was going to have a heart attack. She wasn’t making any sense.”
Jessica decided it was best not to explain that part about Sabrina. Not right at the moment, anyway. “So what’d you do?”
Her father sighed. When he spoke again, he sounded abashed, like an innocent boy. “Well, I didn’t know what to say. She was so upset, I wanted to tell her something to help her and calm her down. So I told her she should just take a day or two off work so she could fix the table ring and mow the lawn herself.”
“Papi!” Jessica was surprised. She knew that her father could be a little blunt sometimes, but this was inconsiderate even for him.
“I know, I know. I shouldn’t have told her to mow the lawn. But I’ve been so tired lately, you know? And I get tired of her wanting me to do it so fast all the time, before the grass even has a chance to get long.”
Jessica made a sympathetic noise. Her mother could be kind of a yard Nazi, she knew. “So then what happened? Where’s Mami now?” Suddenly, it occurred to her that her mother might be able to overhear everything Papi was saying.
“Oh, she left. She said something like ‘I’m going somewhere where people appreciate me,’ and then she ran out the door.”
Jessica started in alarm. This was way more serious than she’d thought. Where could her mother have gone? Not back to work, obviously. Maybe to a friend’s house?
As if reading her mind, her father said, “Don’t worry, m’ija. I’m pretty sure she just went to the grocery store, because I told her when she first got home that we didn’t have anything in the house to eat.”
For some reason, this whole conversation was giving Jessica a strong sense of déjà vu. Unfortunately, her mother didn’t have a cell phone, so Jessica couldn’t call and make sure she was okay.
Maybe, she thought, Mami had gone to Sabrina’s. Jessica decided she would call her sister as soon as she got off the phone with Papi. But first . . . “Papi, you need to apologize to Mami as soon as she gets home.”
He sighed again. “I know. But I’m getting ready to go out and get something to eat, and I might go to the bar and watch the game, where I can have some peace and quiet. I’ll leave her a note.”
“No, Papi. Don’t go out. Run and get something to eat, then go back home and wait for Mami. When she gets home, tell her you’re sorry for everything you said, and for leaving your beer on the table without a coaster.”
“No,” her father said decisively. “No, it’s better for me to do it like I said. When she gets mad like this and leaves, it’s always better if I’m not there when she gets home. It gives her a chan
ce to be alone and think things over. I like to wait until she’s asleep, so I know she’s over it. Then I come home and go to sleep, too, and we both wake up feeling better.”
Again, Jessica was surprised. Obviously, then, these arguments were nothing new, and her mother had been angry enough to leave more than once.
How had all this begun to happen without Jessica knowing about it? She visited her parents every two weeks. Or every three weeks, at least.
Sabrina, she said to herself. Her mother had probably been confiding in Sabrina.
“M’ija? Are you still there?”
“Yes. Papi, I really think you need to stay home tonight.”
There was a pause. Then he said, “I can’t, m’ija. Really, it’s better like this. Your mother always feels better in the morning, after she’s cooled down for a while.”
Jessica didn’t know what to say to this. And, again, she had a weird sense of déjà vu.
“You know what?” her father said. “I’ll buy her some flowers or something, on my way home tonight. That should work, don’t you think?”
“Maybe,” Jessica said lamely. Her father was obviously determined to downplay what was going on. There was nothing she could do with him anymore.
So she wished him the best and got off the phone. Immediately after disconnecting, she dialed Sabrina’s number.
“Hello?” It was David, Sabrina’s husband.
“Hey, David. Is Sabrina there?” Jessica kept her voice light, not wanting to bring him into their family drama.
“Hey, Jessica. No, unfortunately, you just missed her. She left to have dinner with your mom. Why don’t you call her on her cell?”
Jessica chewed at her thumbnail. By now, the kitten had finished playing with his toy and had eaten a little kitten chow, and he was trying to jump up onto her lap. “Okay,” she said. “Thanks, David. Bye.”
But instead of calling her sister’s cell, she put the phone on the coffee table. Maybe her father was right, she thought. Maybe it would be best to let Mami cool down for a while. With Sabrina.
25
Tuesday, after work, Jessica was agitated. She’d gone shopping for suits downtown during lunch and found a cute pink Chanel knockoff, on clearance, that screamed, “Promote me!”
But now she stood in the building’s garage with her trunk open, holding up the suit and wondering if she should go back to the department store right then and exchange it for something else. It was very cute, she thought, but maybe too much for McCormick. None of the female brokers ever wore fabulous pink suits. Then she tried to think of what they did wear and realized there were only one or two female brokers that she knew of. Both were older, and they wore the same thing that most of the assistants did: flowered dresses and khaki suits with elastic-waist pants.
“Well,” Jessica told herself, “I’ll have to be the one to set the trends.” As she put the suit back into its bag and climbed into her front seat, her cell rang.
It was Jonathan, calling to confirm their plans for Friday. Then he said he had to go and the phone call was over. Jessica hung up, bemused, and started her short drive home.
Obviously, Jonathan saw the phone as a tool, not a toy. She could see that there’d be no midnight calls where he told her silly jokes and dreams. And that was a good thing. Wasn’t it? He definitely did the dating thing better than Guillermo.
Speaking of Guillermo and the crazy things he did . . . what was she going to do about his show on Saturday?
And why did it have to be at the Centro? If she went, she was sure to run into all her old co-workers, and they were sure to annoy her. And what if her ex-boyfriend, Robert, showed up? That loser was the last person she wanted to see. Just in case, though, she’d have to wear something nice, so they could all see how much better she was doing since she’d left them.
The problem was, if she did go to the show, Guillermo would take it as a sign of forgiveness and then expect her to fall right back into bed with him. And as tempting as that sounded, Jessica was determined not to give in to temptation again.
Plus, what about Jonathan? He wasn’t actually her boyfriend. It wasn’t as though she’d made him any promises or even told him that she wasn’t seeing anyone else. But he was taking her out Friday, and she was pretty sure that would be the night they would have sex for the first time.
How cold-blooded would that be, to date Jonathan and let him take her to nice places, to sleep with him and let him think they had something serious going on, and then to go see Guillermo again? Especially if Guillermo was trying to win her back? Jonathan didn’t deserve that. If she was going to keep seeing Guillermo, she’d have to stop seeing Jonathan altogether, wouldn’t she? Without even finding out for sure what would have happened.
She wished she knew which man she was supposed to end up with, so she could settle on that man and then move on with her life.
On paper, Jonathan was perfect. He was sweet, successful, attractive. Really, if an objective party compared him with Guillermo, there’d be no contest. But she wasn’t an objective party. She knew what Guillermo had that Jonathan lacked: excitement and insane sex appeal. She and Guillermo had chemistry, and that wasn’t something you could conjure up at will.
And then there was the culture thing. She wasn’t racist, of course, but she had to admit to herself that she had issues about dating a white guy. How well would he be able to integrate into her family, for instance? Would he expect her to do what Sabrina had done and leave her family for the suburbs?
And speaking of her family, what would her father say if she ended up with Jonathan? Yes, he had grown to accept David, but Papi and Sabrina had never been as close as he and Jessica. Would it totally break his heart? Of course, Papi probably wouldn’t approve of Guillermo, either. So that point was moot.
Jessica bit her lip as she drove down the street. Madame Hortensia had said there’d be a sign that would tell her what to do. If it had already shown up, then Jessica must have missed it. She made a U-turn right in the middle of Waugh Drive and set off in the direction of the little purple house.
Twenty minutes later, Jessica watched Madame Hortensia take four fake-stone dominoes from a box and lay them on the table. “They’re called runes. Want to try them?”
“Are they the same price?”
“I’ll give you a discount, since I’m still learning them. Eighteen dollars.”
“Okay. Sure, let’s try it,” said Jessica.
The old woman laid the runes facedown on the table, then shuffled them around before lining them up side by side. “Okay. What did we say last time? Do you remember?”
“That there would be a sign telling me what to do with my love life, and also one telling me what would happen with my job,” said Jessica.
“And did that happen?”
“No.”
“Nothing? You didn’t see or hear anything that made you realize which choice was better? No premonitions or dreams? No feelings guiding you one way or another?”
“Not really. Well . . .” Jessica reconsidered under Madame Hortensia’s intense stare. “There was a really good clearance sale on suits at Macy’s. But I’m not exactly sure yet that the one I got looks good on me. I guess that doesn’t count, then, huh?”
Madame Hortensia stared at her for a moment longer, then said, “Okay. Here we go, then. First, we will ask the Norse spirits about your money.”
She turned over the first stone. It was embossed with a symbol that looked like the letter M. Madame Hortensia put her finger to her forehead and stared at it in deep concentration. Then she opened her box of fortune-telling supplies again and pulled out a staple-bound booklet titled Rune Reading Made Easy. She flipped through it for a bit, then said, “This one means perseverance.”
“What does that mean?” asked Jessica.
“That you won’t lose your job anytime soon. Or that if you do, you’ll find another one very quickly.”
“Well, that’s good,” said Jessica. “What about the promot
ion, though? Does it say for sure whether I’m going to get that?”
Madame Hortensia peered at her enigmatically over the rune manual. “Have you applied for the promotion, m’ija?”
“Yes. Well, sort of. I told my boss I wanted him to consider me.”
“And what did he say?”
“He said okay. That he would keep it in mind.”
“Mm-hmm,” said the old woman, nodding her head sagely. “And have you made sure that he does keep it in mind? Have you been showing him how good you would be at this new job, so that he doesn’t forget?”
Jessica sighed. She hadn’t yet had a chance to get the latest Wall Street Journal. She had taken Jonathan’s advice and tried to watch golf on TV the other night, but it’d ended up putting her to sleep. She’d been working her butt off on her files, as always, but that wasn’t exactly showing Mr. Cochran anything, considering he was never around to see it.
“I have been trying, a little,” Jessica said. “I’m going to try harder, though.”
“Okay,” said Madame Hortensia. “Let’s go on, then. This next one is for your love.”
The second rune showed a slanted X.
“This rune means . . .” She consulted her booklet again. “Patience. So, something is developing, and you have to wait and see what it is. Have you seen signs of this development yet?”
Jessica thought, then said, “Yes.”
“With the blond-headed man? The bolillo?”
“Yes. But also with the other man, too. I’ve been going out with the blond man more, and that’s going well. But the black-haired man gave me a gift, and he wants me to go to his art exhibit, which could develop into something. Maybe.”
“Hmm. Okay,” said Madame Hortensia. “Let’s move on. This next one is for your health.”
Jessica frowned. Why did they have to waste one of the runes on health? she wondered. She didn’t feel that they had spent half as much time as they should have on her love life. But the fortune-teller was already flipping up the next rune. It looked like a slanted F.
Houston, We Have a Problema Page 15