Jessica finally stopped yelling and took a deep breath. It felt good to get all that off her chest.
Sabrina was silent for so long that Jessica wondered if she’d hung up. When she did speak, she didn’t yell, as Jessica had expected. Instead, her voice was a block of ice.
“You are so spoiled, Jessica. You’re a spoiled little brat, and you don’t know what you’re talking about. Just because you went to college, you think you know everything. But you don’t. First of all, I’m not telling Mami that Papi’s not good enough for her. Mami’s been telling me that she’s tired of being the only one being responsible all the time. And you know it’s true. You don’t want to see it because you’re Daddy’s little girl, but I don’t blame Mami for being tired of it. I love Papi, but he doesn’t appreciate her at all.”
Jessica’s momentary bravado began to fade.
“Second of all,” Sabrina continued, her voice gaining speed and pitch, “you’re sitting here saying Mami doesn’t even know Jonathan. Well, you don’t even know David, and he’s been your brother-in-law for two years now. If you don’t want to go out with his friends, fine, but don’t make it like I’m trying to turn you white, and don’t make it like David’s forcing me to stay home. You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
Jessica couldn’t say anything and was in fact swallowing tears at this point. Deep down, she knew what Sabrina was saying was true, and she felt a twinge of guilt at having taken a shot at David like that.
“You know what?” Sabrina’s voice got even louder. “I wasn’t going to tell you this, because I didn’t want you to worry, but now it’s time for you to hear the truth. You know why I quit my job? Not because David told me to. No, I quit because David and I have been trying to have a baby, but I haven’t been able to get pregnant. And my doctor told me to quit my job, because it was too much stress. And I felt bad about it, because I didn’t want to be lazy while David worked. But you know what David said? He said he wanted me to be happy and for us to have a healthy baby, and that he’d be glad to work until I was ready to go back again. So you don’t know anything. David treats me like a queen, and all you can see is that he’s not like Papi, so you don’t like him!”
“Sabrina, I —”
“No! Here’s my last thing. Mami and I don’t sit around talking about how your boyfriends aren’t good enough, or whatever it is that you’re thinking. Mami tells me all the time that she’s worried about you, because all you do is run around partying and spending money, and you still don’t seem happy. She’s worried to death that this guy you’re seeing — Mrs. Jimenez’s cousin’s son or whatever — is going to hurt you just like that other artist loser did. And, yes, Mami’s old-fashioned and thinks you need to get married to be happy. And, okay, fine, I admit that I did hope you would get married, too, so we could have our kids together. But forget it. Now I see what a waste of time it was for us to care about you.”
“I —”
“Because we do care about you, Jessica. And if you can’t see that, then I don’t know what to tell you. Except that you’re selfish, and you’re spoiled, and I’m sick of it.”
“Sabrina . . .”
But Sabrina had said her piece, had gotten the last word, and had hung up the phone.
46
This time Jessica had held Ricky and cried until she’d fallen back to sleep. In her dream, her mother complained about the web site she’d made for the family, and Guillermo painted her picture with roller skates.
When she woke up again, it was almost five. Feeling dizzy from too much sleep and too much emotion, she got out of bed and fortified herself with a can of cream of chicken soup.
She needed to get out of this apartment, Jessica realized. Otherwise she’d lie around moping for the rest of the day. She went back to her computer to check the local movie listings. Going to the movies alone sucked, but it was better than sitting around here applying for more crappy jobs. Maybe she’d call and see if Marisol felt like driving in from the suburbs, she thought.
The knock on the door startled her and woke Ricky, who’d gone back for extra napping on the couch.
It was Guillermo. He was holding a hammer.
Oh God, she thought. Had he come to kill her in a jealous rage?
“Hola, chiquitita. I came to help you hang your painting.”
She noticed, then, the small toolbox in his other hand. But still . . . that was no reason to trust him. “Guillermo, what are you doing here?”
“I told you. I came to hang the painting for you.”
She turned and looked at it, standing there facing the corner. It did need to be hung, but not by Guillermo.
Then again, she didn’t own a hammer herself.
While she was wondering what she was supposed to say, he slipped through the doorway, brushing close enough to make the ends of her hair crackle.
This was definitely a bad idea.
“So, where do you want it? How about right here?” He indicated the space above the couch.
Jessica didn’t say anything. She couldn’t believe that he was there, acting as if none of last night had happened.
He took off his shoes and stepped up onto her couch, and before she knew it, he had punched a nail into the wall. Then he brushed by her again to pick up the painting, went back to the couch, and hung it.
“Is it straight?” he said.
“Yes.” She couldn’t say anything else.
He stepped off the couch, dusted off his hands, and slipped his shoes back on. “Ándale. There you go.”
“Uh . . . thank you.”
“All right. Good-bye, then.”
He made as if to leave. Jessica was spellbound. That was it? He’d come and hung up the painting, and now he was leaving?
“Hey . . .” Before she could say anything else, Ricky came out from under the desk, where he’d been observing unseen, and sat in Guillermo’s path.
“Is this the one I gave you? Man, he’s big.” Guillermo reached down to pet the kitten. “And fat. His brothers and sisters are skinny from running all day. What are you feeding this guy?”
This comment snapped Jessica out of her stupor. She snatched Ricky up off the floor, out of Guillermo’s grasp.
“He’s not fat! Don’t come over here and call my kitten fat. In fact, don’t come over here at all. Who do you think you are, showing up all the time without even calling?”
Guillermo faced her with a smile. “Are you mad about right now, or mad about last night?”
“Both,” she said. Then, “Neither. Why should I be mad? I’ve moved on. You’re the one who’s mad.”
“I’m not mad, chiquitita.”
He took a step closer, still with that crazy-making smile.
“Yes, you are,” she said. “I was out with another man. Didn’t you see that?”
“I saw it. But I’m not worried about him.” He took another step closer. Jessica took a step back but hit the kitchen counter. “You may have gone out with that man last night, but you don’t care about him. I saw it in your face.”
“No, you didn’t. I do care about him. Very much. So that’s it. I don’t want you anymore. You can go now.”
She shrank back as close to the counter as she could, holding Enrique Salvaje in front of her like a small, furry shield.
Guillermo took another step forward and reached out to touch her cheek. Oh no . . .
“No, querida. You don’t want that guy at all. Because if you do, why isn’t he here right now? Why am I here instead?”
He took the kitten from her hands and dropped him gently to the floor. The air all around had turned blurry, like the air right above a hot sidewalk. In superslow motion, he closed the space between them with a kiss.
Just like last time — just like always — she felt herself melt. Her arms betrayed her by wrapping around his neck.
This is what it feels like, she thought, when the devil possesses your soul.
After what felt like a hundred years, each ye
ar of which she spent burning in hell and not minding one bit, they pulled apart.
“Corazón,” he whispered, “I’ve been missing you.”
She didn’t want to say it aloud, but, as always, she had to admit to herself that she’d missed him, too.
“You’re not going to see that bolillo anymore, are you?” he asked.
She shook her head no. There was no use lying about it now.
“Good. Because if you’re going to see other men, this isn’t going to work out between the two of us.”
He smiled, still, as he said this, as if he were talking to a child. Slowly, his words sank into her brain. Slowly, something around her chest broke, like a wrestler’s grip on a stronger opponent. Then she returned his smile.
“What isn’t going to work out? You calling me whenever you feel like having sex?”
Confusion flickered over his handsome face. “No . . . I mean, yes. Yes, I can’t do that anymore, if you’re going to . . .” His voice trailed off.
She took a deep breath. It was time, once again, to stand up for herself.
“Well, I’m not going to see him anymore. But this thing between the two of us, with you showing up when you want sex, or whatever else? And you neglecting me until I get mad enough to leave? And then being nice only long enough for me to come back? That’s not going to happen anymore, either. I’m tired of it, Guillermo. I’m through.”
Now his face was totally eclipsed by confusion. It was as if he genuinely couldn’t understand. Maybe this had never happened to him before. She had a sense of déjà vu. No — double déjà vu.
“Chiquitita, please.” He took her hand in both of his and squeezed it softly, then pressed it to his chest. “Please, Jessica . . . I know that the way I sometimes treated you was not very nice. But please understand — escúchame, corazón — I’m not used to having a woman telling me what to do, and where to be. I’m used to being on my own — being free. But you’re the first woman . . .” He paused, searching for the words.
She held her breath. Was he going to tell her that she was the first woman who made him want to change his ways? Because he was in love with her? Jessica’s heart had already been beating fast from the adrenaline of telling him off. Now it felt like a big red hummingbird in her chest.
“You’re the first woman,” he went on. “I love . . . I love the way you make me feel, when you call me and want to be with me. When you listen to my stories and laugh. When I come over in the middle of the night and you don’t throw things at me,” he said, lifting her fingers to his mouth to kiss them reverently. “You’re the first woman who made me feel like I wasn’t just some . . . some dirty Mexican. And I don’t want to lose that feeling, chiquitita.”
He sounded like someone in a movie.
A bad movie, on the Movie Network for Women, about women who never learned. Jessica pulled her hand out of his and broke away to face him full on.
“Well, you know what you made me feel like, Guillermo? Every time I wanted to be with you and laugh at your stories, and you didn’t call me back? And all the times you disappeared for weeks, and then walked right back into my life like nothing had happened? It made me feel stupid. Like you didn’t care. Like you thought I was some dirty Mexican.”
She felt those words pump out of her from deep inside herself, where everything was secret and true.
He just looked at her, mouth hanging open.
She continued telling the truth. “And I don’t want to feel like that anymore.”
He said nothing as she led him to the door and closed it behind him.
When he was completely gone, she threw herself on the couch. Her eyes began to mist up a little, for the third time that day. But for some reason, the sob that came out felt more like a laugh.
The next day, Sunday, Jessica woke up early. In the bathroom, she looked at her reflection. Her eyes were only a little puffy from all the crying the day before.
Back in her bedroom, she took her phone off the charger and was about to turn it on, then thought better of it. At that point, there was no one she was in the mood to talk to. She needed a break from everything and everyone in her life.
Her kitten woke up with a little yawn and watched as she changed out of her sleep shirt, then searched the room, filling a bag with various things. Within a few minutes, she was kissing him good-bye.
And then she drove to the beach.
People said that the Texas Gulf Coast was nasty and that Galveston Island was the nastiest part of it — a floating ghetto. A giant sewer. The big toilet of the Atlantic Ocean. But it was the only beach Jessica had ever known. Sure, the water was green and gray instead of postcard blue. Sure, there was seaweed wadded up everywhere. There were little kids in diapers and out of them, jumping and screaming in the water. But at the same time, the sun was shining, the seagulls were calling, and the salty, warm wind blew through her hair as she lay under an umbrella on the sand.
She’d felt a little weird, driving there by herself. But once she got there, she was glad she’d gone. The smell of the beach was always the same. It reminded Jessica of her childhood, when she’d been happy and hopeful and full of dreams for her future.
After sitting by herself on the shore for a while, she came up with an idea.
She looked out over the waves. If I’m supposed to go through with this idea, give me a sign.
But then, instead of waiting, she closed her eyes. She already knew she would go through with it either way. She’d left behind the signs, fortune-telling, and allowing anything or anyone else to tell her how to run her life.
Now, she trusted herself. She might not always make the best choices, she thought, but it was okay. If everyone else in her life could manage on their own, then she could, too.
47
This is Floyd Harrelson, our go-to for actuarial analysis. And this is Shelley. Shelley makes the best coffee on the fortieth floor.”
Jessica couldn’t hear Shelley’s reply, but she heard the giggling. All the older women here thought Brad was cute for some reason.
“And here’s our department,” she heard Brad say to whomever he was showing around. Maybe another candidate for the broker job. Jessica’s phone rang. Outside line.
“Jessica Luna.”
“Jessica? This is Esmeralda Vargas.” The director of ALMA, returning her call.
“Mrs. Vargas. Hello.” Jessica hunched down behind her file stacks for some relative privacy. Luckily, Brad was talking steadily and someone was making a racket in the file room, so no one would hear the details of her conversation. “I was wondering if you have time to meet with me this evening. Or for lunch, maybe. I have an idea I’d like to pitch to you, regarding the web site.”
“And this is Jessica,” interrupted Brad, right above her head. “Oh, she’s on the phone.” He was leading around a big corn-fed-looking guy in a white shirt and striped tie. A young guy, no older than Brad himself.
“Let me look at my calendar,” said Mrs. Vargas, on the phone. “I can’t meet with you tonight. What about tomorrow?”
Jessica checked her own calendar. “That’s fine. That’d be great, Mrs. Vargas.” She felt eyes on her. She turned and saw that Brad and the other guy were standing there, waiting for her to get off the phone. “All right, well, I’ll meet you tomorrow, then, at your office. Good-bye.”
She turned around to face Brad with a cold, fake-polite smile. It was really annoying, the way they treated her like an animal at the zoo sometimes. She had no privacy at all. It wasn’t as though she ever stood in their doorways, staring at them until they got off the phone.
“Ryan, this is Jessica Luna. She’s one of our best and brightest — you definitely want to get on her good side so she’ll help you out. Jessica, this is Ryan Ercher, our new broker.”
New broker?
“Hi, Jessica. Pleased to meet you,” Ryan Ercher said, extending his hand. Jessica just stared at it and then back at him.
“Ryan’s an old school friend of mine,�
� Brad said. He didn’t notice that Jessica hadn’t shaken his school friend’s hand. “You’re going to love him. Come on, Ry. Let’s go see your new office.”
New office?
Brad led Ryan to the file room. But it wasn’t the file room anymore. Jessica saw now that the mailroom guys were carrying the files out in boxes and hauling in a desk and computer. She turned to Rochelle, who was taking the opportunity to check the lottery numbers online.
“Rochelle, what’s going on?”
“They’re cleaning out the file room for the new broker.”
“I know. I can see that. But I thought they weren’t hiring anybody yet.”
“Oh, girl, you knew. Mr. Cochran and them have been talking about it for weeks.”
Jessica tensed, waiting for the shock to hit her.
Then, nothing. No shock at all. Of course Mr. Cochran had gone ahead and hired someone else. What had she expected?
And it didn’t hurt at all. Instead, Jessica felt an immense sense of relief. Now she wouldn’t have to worry about playing golf. Now she wouldn’t have to suck up to the top brass all the time, like all the other brokers. Now she knew that she’d never wanted that promotion after all.
She laughed, then stood up. There was one more thing she didn’t want.
“Jessica? You okay, girl?” Rochelle asked as Jessica crossed the room silently, making straight for Mr. Cochran’s office.
“Jessica. Good morning. I, uh, I’m sure that by now you’ve met Ryan,” Mr. Cochran started, rattling his paper and letting it fall to his desk. “I just want you to know that —”
“Mr. Cochran,” said Jessica, “I quit.”
“— I did consider your interest — What’s that?” he asked.
“I quit,” she said again, louder. Because it felt good. She felt a smile starting on her face and held it back for the sake of professionalism.
Mr. Cochran’s eyes went wider than she’d ever seen them. “Now, Jessica, hold on just one minute here. Let’s not be hasty.” Quicker than she’d ever seen him move, he jumped up and closed his office door behind her, then motioned for her to take a seat. But she didn’t. She remained standing, the serene smile returning irresistibly to her face. Jessica felt as if she were floating up into the ether or, at least, out of this dusty office building.
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