Houston, We Have a Problema

by Gwendolyn Zepeda

  While she’d been talking to Jonathan, someone else had called. Back at her apartment, she set her phone on the kitchen counter and called her voice mail, putting it on speaker so she could listen while she filled Ricky’s bowl with kitten chow.

  “Jessica, this is Felix Montenegro.” She wondered if he was calling because he wanted her to give Guillermo’s painting back, so he could sell it and get a commission.

  “I don’t know what you said to Guillermo,” he continued, “but you and I need to talk. He came by to pick up his money and told my assistant that he was leaving town. I thought you and I had an understanding, Jessica. Have you booked Guillermo for shows with another gallery? Call me back. Please.”

  Jessica deleted the message. That was it, then. She was no longer seeing Jonathan, and Guillermo was gone. He’d gone back home to Monterrey, maybe. Or to Washington State, to pick cherries.

  Now she really did have Ricky and no one else. Not that she’d been planning to go out with either man again. But still . . .

  Ricky rubbed against her ankle, as if to prove his loyalty. She reached down and stroked him idly.

  Madame Hortensia had told her to figure out what she wanted. And Jessica had done that, as far as her job was concerned. But what about the rest of her life? What about, as Madame Hortensia would say, what was coming for her in love? It was one thing to know what you wanted in a man and another thing to make that man appear.

  If she could meet a guy as nice and successful as Jonathan and, at the same time, as hot and exciting as Guillermo . . . that would be the perfect boyfriend.

  No, wait — even better . . . someone like that, who also made her laugh. And, also, who appreciated her for who she was and not just because she supported his career or looked like Amber Chavez.

  But you couldn’t just sit around waiting for the perfect man to show up, could you? Maybe she should take one of those Leisure Learning courses after work, so she could meet a man who shared her interests. Maybe she could pick up some programming skills at the same time.

  Or maybe, she reminded herself, she needed to take some time to iron out her issues — to do a little mental housecleaning — before she jumped back into the romance saddle again.

  Yes, that was probably the answer, she told herself with a sigh. She picked up the phone again and carried it to the sofa, where she flopped down and dialed Sabrina’s number.

  No answer. Jessica hung up before the answering machine beeped. Sabrina would call her back, probably. This was last on her list — setting things straight with her sister. She wasn’t going to forget about it, to just let it go or wait for some sign.

  But for now she’d done enough straightening, hadn’t she? Jessica lay back against her throw pillows and turned on the TV.

  52

  Three days later — three days that had been a blur of job searches and soul searches — Jessica was sitting on her sofa again. She’d just seen Esmeralda Vargas on Tuesday, and now it was Friday — too soon to call and demand a response to her proposal, no matter how badly she wanted one. So, instead, she’d been e-mailing all her friends, looking for job leads and telling them how she’d quit her job. Xavier in particular had wanted all the details, as gossip had been flying around McCormick a mile a minute.

  And now she was talking to Marisol on the phone. Marisol had called on her lunch break, which meant something important must have happened. Jessica switched the phone from one ear to the other and airlifted Ricky from the floor to her lap. “Tell me if Esmeralda said anything about giving me the job.”

  “Well, I’m not supposed to say yet —”

  “Oh, my gosh! She’s going to give it to me, isn’t she?”

  “Well, it isn’t one hundred percent for sure yet. And you can’t tell her you heard it from me.”

  Jessica squealed with joy.

  “The only thing she’s waiting on is approval from the board,” said Marisol. “But I can’t see why they wouldn’t approve it. We only had the one accordion student anyway. Plus, they’ve been talking about sponsoring computer skills classes for the community for a while now, so this would totally kill all the birds with one stone.”

  “When is she going to ask them?”

  “Monday night, at the board meeting.”

  “Marisol, you have got to call everyone you’re friends with on the board and convince them to let her hire me.”

  Jessica’s mind went into work mode overdrive. The principal of Hawthorne was on the board. He knew and liked Jessica. And what about Mr. Santiago? Wasn’t he Mrs. Jimenez’s cousin? Did Jessica have time to make copies of her portfolio for Mrs. Vargas to pass out at the meeting?

  “The only thing about it,” said Marisol, “is the pay. It’s not that great. . . . Jessica? . . . Jessica, are you still there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. The pay’s not great. I get you. That’s okay.”

  “No, seriously. It’s only twenty dollars an hour.”

  “Twenty an hour? Dude — that’s a dollar more than I make at McCormick.”

  “Yeah, but you’re not going to be doing eight-hour days at ALMA.” Marisol sounded hesitant, as if she were worried she’d make Jessica change her mind.

  “Well, that’ll give me more time to work freelance, then,” said Jessica. “Seriously, Marisol. I am so ready to work again.”

  “Jessica, seriously for real . . . you remember how nonprofit is. You know it won’t just be teaching. Esmeralda wants you to do this so you can update our web site at the same time. Also, she’ll have you doing everything else, from taking pictures at all the events, to making the brochures, to driving the bus —”

  “I’m ready. How soon will I start? Is tomorrow good?”

  “Well, I’m sure Esmeralda will take you as soon as she can get you,” said Marisol. “You know how she is.”

  Jessica laughed. She felt as if a big, ugly weight had been lifted from her shoulders and flung out the window.

  After making lunch plans and hanging up with Marisol, she called Toby and told him the good news.

  “Hey. I got the ALMA job! Let’s go out and celebrate.”

  “Sorry, Jessi, I can’t.” He sighed. “I promised Mami I’d stay home tonight. We’re doing each other’s highlights. Let’s go out tomorrow, though, okay? We need to party our asses off, and drink to you breaking out of that hellhole.”

  After hanging up with Toby, Jessica considered calling her own parents. But, no . . . she didn’t want to interrupt their time off from work. Lord knew it was a break they both sorely needed. And she hadn’t even told them that she’d quit her job, because she’d known it would freak them out. Better to wait and call them after she’d started the ALMA job, she decided. That way, they wouldn’t even have the chance to worry.

  She thought of calling Sabrina but immediately nixed that plan, a little guiltily. She hadn’t talked to her sister at all since their blowout on the phone. She’d called three days before, and Sabrina had never called back. True, Jessica hadn’t left her any message. But Sabrina had caller ID, so she would have known and would have called back if she’d wanted to. That was enough to make Jessica suspect that her sister simply didn’t want to speak to her.

  Or maybe, she told herself, Sabrina was just busy. She was trying to have a baby, wasn’t she? Maybe, Jessica thought wryly, Sabrina actually had more important things to do than hold a sisterly grudge.

  She would call Sabrina, she told herself, but not now. Later, after she’d unwound a little. Didn’t she deserve some time to relax after all she’d been through?

  The phone was warm in Jessica’s hand. She looked at its bright face and felt a little pitiful about not having anyone else to call. If she were still seeing Guillermo or Jonathan, she could have called one of them. But she wasn’t.

  She could always call Madame Hortensia. . . .

  No. That would be a pretty desperate move.

  Jessica set down her phone and went over to the desk, where her laptop sat up and running. At seventy-five word
s a minute, she tapped out an e-mail:

  hey. guess what. I got the job.

  Then she waited, feeling a little silly. She probably should have just called Xavier’s office. But for some reason, she didn’t feel that would be appropriate anymore. Things had changed, in her mind, now that he and Cynthia were an item again. It was one thing for a guy to get e-mails from his female friend. It was a whole other thing for her to be calling him up on a Friday afternoon.

  After a few minutes, Xavier wrote her back:

  Congrats. Let me buy you a drink?

  She smiled, then immediately frowned.

  Can you?

  He responded:

  Don’t worry. For once, I have a Friday evening to myself.

  It was settled, then. If he was free, she was free. Jessica’s smile returned to her face. It’d be good to see her friend again. She’d missed him.

  53

  They’d agreed to meet at Zona Azul, a downtown bar a block away from McCormick. Jessica circled the skyscrapers for a while, then ended up finding a space right outside McCormick’s parking garage. I should have kept my parking pass, she thought. It would have come in handy. Sighing, she parked under a shadeless little birch tree, then turned off her stereo and mentally prepared herself to walk through the sweltering rush-hour heat.

  But first, she thought as she checked herself in the rearview mirror, it was time to make another change. She reached up and carefully pulled the Virgin Mary off the mirror by its elastic string. Then, giving it a little good-bye squeeze, she opened the glove compartment and put it away for the last time.

  Tiny white Christmas lights shone over the mirrored bar, which reflected the candles in red jars that decorated the tables behind her. A postcard lying on the bar next to her drink proclaimed that it was Salsa Night. Jessica stirred her Cape Cod and sighed. Strangely, despite all the good things that had recently happened, she felt . . . not unhappy, exactly, but less exhilarated than she would have expected. It was almost as if she were emotionally spent after all the drama that had gone down in the past month.

  Well, she told herself, it’s time to relax now. Time to unwind. Really, it was a good thing that Toby had been too busy to come out tonight, she decided. Xavier was the better choice, because he was the least dramatic person she knew.

  The bar was inhabited mostly by couples. Some of them were going out to dance to the jazzy stuff that was playing through the speakers, while workers set up the corner stage for a band. Jessica watched idly. How long had it been since she’d danced?

  “Jess,” she heard Xavier say.

  “Hey! How’d you sneak up on me like that?” Turning to face him, Jessica almost didn’t recognize him. He’d taken off his glasses and tie. Without them, he looked nothing like the nerdy guy she was used to. In fact, just as she’d always suspected, the loss of his unfashionable accessories left him looking pretty good. He pulled up the stool beside her and sat.

  “You should hear how everyone’s been talking since you left. You’re practically a hero,” he said. “I heard a rumor that Personnel is scared now. They’re worried you’ll inspire every other woman in the company to quit.”

  Jessica snorted. “Funny.”

  The bartender came over and took Xavier’s order for a Negra Modelo and another Cape Cod for her.

  “What did Cynthia say?” Jessica couldn’t help asking. She wondered if Xavier even talked to Cynthia about her.

  “What do you mean? I don’t talk to her much anymore,” he said.

  “Xavier. Come on. Don’t play dumb. Listen, you can tell me the truth. I promise not to make fun of you for going back to her, okay? I’m through judging people for dumb reasons. I’ve turned over a whole new leaf.”

  Xavier looked at her quizzically for a moment, then laughed. “Jess, you’re such a drama queen. I told you, I’m not seeing Cynthia. Why, do you want me to get back with her?”

  Jessica felt a sheepish expression cover her face. “Well, no. She’s totally wrong for you.”

  “I know. I told you that, remember?”

  “Yes. But then I overheard you making plans to have lunch with her. And I saw her name on your caller ID. And, well, you’ve been too busy to have lunch with me lately, so I just assumed . . .”

  “I did see her at lunch, but it was with a whole bunch of other people. McCormick made me host a training luncheon for some of the assistants upstairs who need extra help. You can’t tell anyone I told you this, but if Cynthia and the others can’t learn the company applications by the end of the year, McCormick’s going to let them go.”

  “Really?” Jessica’s eyes went wide.

  “Yeah. And Cynthia knows that, so she’s been freaking out. She keeps calling me to help her so she’ll pass the test.”

  “No way.”

  “Yes way.” Xavier’s face turned serious suddenly, the way it always did after he’d told her something he shouldn’t have. “I wasn’t going to tell you all that, because it’s confidential, but if you’re going to accuse me of dating Cynthia again . . .”

  Jessica thought it all over. Really, it was kind of funny, now that she knew what was going on. She hadn’t realized Cynthia was so . . . well, dumb.

  He smiled. “Come on. Let’s quit talking about the poor girl. Her ears are probably burning.”

  The band took the stage and began tuning their instruments. When the bass player hit his first note, Jessica felt a little shiver run down her back. “It’s Salsa Night,” she informed Xavier.

  “Yeah, it looks like it. You want to dance?”

  Jessica laughed out of pure surprise. “Um . . . yeah. I do, actually.”

  They went out onto the floor. Jessica was prepared to dance next to him while he sidestepped back and forth, like half the other guys on the floor. Instead, he took her in his arms. Because it was their first time together, their steps were small and experimental.

  “Do you want me to lead?” he said.

  “Sure.”

  “Okay, well, let me do it, then.”

  He was a good dancer. She should have known that, because he’d told her about the constant weddings and quinceañeras his mother and sister dragged him to, where he was expected to dance with every woman in the room. But she hadn’t been able to imagine it — Xavier, her computer-programming friend, dancing as well as this.

  He spun her round and round the floor, and she couldn’t stop laughing. It had been a long time since she’d really danced like this. They went through three songs like nothing, until the fourth made her blood rush and her heart beat fast.

  “You want to sit at one of the tables?” he said.

  They did, and the waitress came to take their order for another round. This time Jessica asked for water.

  “If I had known you danced that well,” she said, “I would’ve made you come out with me a long time ago.”

  “Really?” he said.

  “Heck, yeah.”

  Over their drinks, they talked about Jessica’s new job and the possibility of Xavier getting his department to donate computers to ALMA. Then they ordered a plate of nachos to share and talked about everything else. It was just like their weekly lunches at McCormick, thought Jessica. But better, because they had more time now, and especially because she wasn’t working at McCormick anymore. She sighed happily.

  “You know what?” she told him. “I’m going to miss having lunch with you.”

  “Oh, yeah?” he said.

  “Yeah. You know — making fun of everybody the way we did. Complaining about stuff. You were my best friend at work, you know that?”

  “Well, it’s not like ALMA’s far away. They’ll let you have lunch, right? We can still meet at Taqueria Aztlán, like always.”

  He made it sound easy. Because it was easy, now that she thought about it. She smiled. “Awesome. Now I don’t have any reason to miss McCorporate at all.”

  He asked her to dance again, and she couldn’t resist. They danced two, three, four, five songs, and then the band
stopped playing.

  Everyone on the floor looked at the stage askance. It was only nine o’clock.

  “Sorry, everybody,” said the singer. “Poetry open mike is coming up next.”

  Xavier turned to Jessica. “I guess that’s our cue to leave.”

  It was a short walk to her car, and he’d left his in the garage, right next to her spot.

  “That was fun,” she said as they neared the corner, where the streetlight was just coming to life.

  “It was,” he said. “We should do this again. Soon.”

  “Yeah?” They arrived at her car, and Jessica turned to lean against her door and face him. She thought she understood what he was saying, but she wanted to hear him say it. “Do what?”

  He took a step closer to her and looked into her eyes. “Go out. Together. At night.”

  “You mean, as in dating?”

  He laughed. “Yeah. As in dating. We don’t work together anymore. I’m not seeing Cynthia, and you’re through with What’s-his-name and the other guy. So, why not?”

  Jessica felt a sense of surreality wash over her. Why not? Everything he said was true, so why not indeed?

  Because, she reminded herself, after everything that had recently happened, she wasn’t going out with anyone. She had issues to iron out first. She’d already decided.

  “I’m not way off here, am I?” Xavier asked. “I mean, are you interested at all, or am I just doing some seriously wishful thinking?”

  She laughed. “No, you’re not. I’m definitely interested.”

  His smile melted away as he leaned down and kissed her. She let him, and it was nice. It was better than nice. He was as good a kisser as he was a dancer.

  When he let her go, she decided she had to set him straight quick, instead of leading him on.

  “Xavier, I am interested . . . I like you a lot, but . . . I can’t do this right now. I’ve gone through so many crazy things in the last month, and I need time to deal with it all. There’s no way I could start seeing someone right now. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

  He nodded seriously, as if she were a program that just wouldn’t calculate. “Okay. I get you. You can’t blame me for asking, though, can you?”