Now, two glasses of Merlot later, Tamara’s temper had abated only slightly.
Lowering herself onto the queen-size bed, Vonda picked up her daughter’s cell phone and checked the recent call history. “Four missed calls. Six text messages. All from Victor.” She frowned and set down the phone, watching Tamara channel-surf with the same angry intensity she’d unleashed upon the road. “He’s been camped outside your apartment, waiting for you to come home. You should at least let him know where you are.”
“He knows where I am,” Tamara grumbled darkly. “He just doesn’t know how to get here.”
Vonda sighed. “Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for me to be unlisted.”
“It was an excellent idea,” Tamara countered crisply. “How else could you have gotten all those rabid bill collectors to stop harassing you while you worked toward paying off your debt?”
Vonda grimaced at the memory. “Thank God those days are over.”
“Amen. Now you’ve got perfect credit, you make good money and you love your job at the Pentagon. If you’d just accept a date from that tall, dark and handsome commander who’s been asking you out for months, all would be right with the world.”
Vonda scowled. “I have no interest in going out with that arrogant man. And don’t try to change the subject. We were talking about you and Victor.” She paused. “Maybe I should just call him and give him my address.”
“You’ll do no such thing, Ma,” Tamara warned, grabbing her cell phone off the bed before her mother could reach for it. “Victor doesn’t need to come over here. I have nothing to say to him.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little unfair to punish him for the way his mother behaved?”
Tamara didn’t answer, her angry gaze focused on the images flashing across the plasma television screen.
“Give me that,” Vonda muttered, snatching the remote control out of Tamara’s hand. “You’re making me dizzy with all that channel changing.”
Tamara heaved a frustrated breath, flopped back against the headboard and grabbed the pint of Häagen Dazs ice cream melting on the nightstand. The chocolate chip cookie dough, while her favorite flavor, was a sorry substitute for the crème brûlée she’d intended to order for dessert.
Shoving a creamy spoonful into her mouth, she mumbled disconsolately, “This isn’t the way this evening was supposed to turn out.”
“I know,” Vonda murmured sympathetically.
“Victor’s mother wasn’t supposed to be such a barracuda. And a racist, on top of that.”
Vonda frowned. “I was pretty shocked and disappointed by some of the things she said.”
“And what about Victor’s father?” Tamara burst out with renewed indignation. “I still can’t believe he just sat there and let her run her mouth like that! But I guess he must have agreed with everything she said.”
“Not necessarily.” Vonda paused, lips pursed in thought for a moment. “I could be wrong, but I got the impression that he’s not as opposed to your relationship with Victor as his wife is.”
Tamara scowled. “Then why didn’t he say anything?”
Vonda shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t want to argue with her. Maybe the man just wants some peace and quiet in his home.”
Tamara snorted derisively. “Peace and quiet with that woman? I don’t think so.”
Her mother chuckled, turning off the television and setting down the remote control on her side of the bed—away from Tamara. “To be honest with you, there’s a part of me that wants to give Marcela the benefit of the doubt, because I truly believe she just wants what’s best for her son.”
Tamara held up a hand. “Please don’t defend that woman, Ma. Not after the way she insulted you tonight.”
“I’m not defending her,” Vonda said grimly. “Believe me, I wanted nothing more than to go off on her tonight, and the next time something like this happens, the gloves are coming off.”
“Oh, there won’t be a next time,” Tamara said unequivocally. “If I never see Mrs. Aguilar again, it’ll be too soon.”
“Really?” Vonda slanted her a vaguely amused look. “And how do you intend to pull that off, considering that the woman will probably end up being your mother-in-law?”
Tamara froze, a spoonful of ice cream halfway to her mouth. She stared at her mother. “Wh-what do you mean?”
Vonda gave her an indulgent smile. “Isn’t that what tonight was about? The introduction to the parents? Getting us accustomed to the idea of you two as a couple? Why else would you and Victor go to all the trouble if you weren’t already planning to take the next big step in your relationship?”
“We’re not planning anything,” Tamara said hastily, setting aside the ice cream. “We just thought…well, since we’re both so close to our parents, we just thought it would be nice for everyone to be on friendly terms with one another.”
“Um-hmm.” Vonda wasn’t buying the explanation for a second. “I think you and Victor knew what you were doing when you arranged this special dinner. And that’s perfectly fine with me, considering what I saw tonight when I looked at the two of you.”
Tamara was almost afraid to ask. “What did you see?”
Vonda smiled. “For starters, I saw two young, brilliant doctors who have realized that there’s even more to life than pursuing and achieving their career goals. I saw two people who share so much chemistry, I kept waiting for the restaurant to catch on fire. Whew!”
Tamara blushed deeply, making her mother laugh.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed, baby. You were always so focused on your academics that boys were reduced to an afterthought. But I knew that would change when the right one came along.” Vonda’s eyes twinkled. “I’m glad you’ve met someone who rocks your world, which Victor clearly does.”
Tamara laughingly groaned, covering her hot face with her hands. “If Mrs. Aguilar could have banished me to the other side of the restaurant—hell, to the other side of the world—I know she would have.”
“Of course. She’s not blind. She saw exactly what I saw tonight, and I suspect that’s why she came out swinging like an animal backed into a corner.” Vonda’s voice softened. “But try as she might, she can’t fight the inevitable.”
Slowly Tamara removed her hands from her face and met her mother’s quiet, knowing gaze. “The inevitable?”
Vonda nodded. “You and Victor love each other. If you’re willing to risk the scrutiny of your colleagues and incur the wrath of his mother, then you’re serious about being together. So that means—”
“No,” Tamara interrupted glumly, shaking her head. “I know what you’re going to say, Ma, and you’re usually right about things. But not this time.”
Vonda frowned. “Are you saying that you and Victor don’t love each other?”
“No. I mean, I—” Tamara heaved a shaky breath, shoving her hand through her hair. “I do love him,” she admitted.
“And he loves you. Surely you must know that.”
“I don’t. Not really. I mean, he hasn’t actually come out and said it.”
“Have you?” Vonda countered pointedly.
Tamara hesitated, then shook her head. “But it doesn’t really matter anymore. Victor and I won’t work. I mean, I thought the biggest challenge we would face was getting in trouble at work for violating the hospital’s nonfraternization policy. But after what happened tonight, I realize that we have even bigger obstacles to overcome, and I’m not so sure we can.”
“If you love each other,” Vonda said sagely, “you can overcome anything.”
Tamara’s heart constricted painfully. “I wish I believed that, Ma. But Victor is very close to his family. He sets aside money every month to help take care of his brothers, and his parents really depend on him. If Mrs. Aguilar refuses to accept our relationship, Victor will be devastated. I can’t ask him to choose me over his family.”
“You won’t have to ask him,” Vonda said with quiet certainty. “If that man loves you a
s much as I think he does, nothing will keep him from being with you. Nothing. And no one.”
Chapter 13
Victor was still seething with fury when he arrived at his parents’ house that evening, making it there in record time. Roaring into the driveway, he killed the engine and knocked the kickstand down with his foot, then lunged from the Harley and stalked to the front door.
Using his spare key, he let himself into the house and marched through the foyer to reach the living room. His brothers were all there. Alejandro was stretched out across the loveseat, long legs dangling over the arm as he laughed and talked softly on his cell phone. Christian and Fernando were sprawled on the sofa watching television, while Roberto lay on his stomach on the floor playing games on Alejandro’s laptop.
They glanced up in surprise at Victor’s appearance, their features so similar that for a moment Victor felt as if he were seeing a slideshow of himself at his brothers’ ages—fourteen, sixteen, seventeen and nineteen.
“Hermanote,” Christian greeted him with the familiar Spanish nickname for a big brother—a word he’d picked up from some Mexican friends. “What’re you doing home?”
“Came to see our parents.”
“Didn’t you just have dinner with them?”
Ignoring the question, Victor walked over to Alejandro, removed a crisp fifty from his wallet and held it out to him.
Alejandro eyed the money quizzically. “What’s this for?”
“Take your brothers out for some pizza or something.”
“We already ate.”
“Eat again. I need to talk to Mama and Papa in private.”
Comprehension filled Alejandro’s eyes. “Let me call you back, Amani,” he murmured into the phone before snapping it shut and sitting up. He gave Victor a long, knowing look. “You’re here about Tamara, aren’t you?”
Victor nodded tightly.
“Yeah. I could tell by the way Mama and Papa looked that things didn’t go too well over dinner. They’ve been holed up in their bedroom ever since they got home.” Alejandro grimaced, then took the money from Victor. “I don’t know if this will be enough. Have you seen the way these pigs eat?”
“Look who’s talking!” Fernando protested.
Victor impatiently peeled off another twenty.
“Muchas gracias.” Alejandro gleefully pocketed the money, then paused. “I can’t remember if I have any gas in my—”
Victor growled something obscene that made Alejandro laugh, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“Even if he gets his ass kicked in the process.”
Alejandro grinned, rising from the loveseat to corral his younger brothers. “Come on, hermanitos. Victor needs to have a powwow with the old folks.”
“About what?” Christian and Fernando asked curiously.
“Don’t worry about it,” Victor retorted.
“When we get back,” Roberto asked him, “wanna play MLB 2K11 with me?”
Victor ruffled his baby brother’s hair. “Maybe next time.”
As the four siblings headed out the front door, laughing and talking boisterously among themselves, Luis and Marcela emerged from their upstairs bedroom, alerted by the commotion.
“Where’s everyone going?” Marcela wondered aloud, tugging the lapels of her robe together as she descended the stairs. “Jandro didn’t say he was taking his—” She broke off, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw her eldest standing at the bottom of the staircase. “Victor?”
“We need to talk,” he said curtly.
His parents followed him into the living room and sat on the checkered sofa, watching as he began pacing the floor.
“Let me start off by saying that you owe Tamara and her mother an apology. Especially you, Mama.”
Luis and Marcela exchanged indignant glances. “An apology?” Marcela sputtered. “They’re the ones who walked out on dinner with us. That was very rude—”
“Rude?” Victor echoed in disbelief, glaring at her. “After the way you insulted and demeaned them, you have the audacity to call them rude? I wouldn’t have blamed either of them for walking out on you sooner!”
Marcela gasped, recoiling as if she’d been struck. “How can you say such a thing to me? I was only trying to get to know Tamara!”
“Get to know her?” Victor thundered furiously. “Are you serious, Mama? You weren’t trying to get to know her. You were trying to humiliate her and provoke her into an argument so that you’d feel justified in saying that she’s not good enough for me!”
“She’s not good enough for you!”
“Why?” Victor challenged, anger and frustration driving twin fists into his stomach. “Because she’s black?”
Marcela’s face reddened. “I didn’t say that!”
“You didn’t have to! Everyone at that table knew exactly why you had such a problem with Tamara. ¡Ay Dios Mio! The waiter probably even knew!”
“Me importa un carajo!” Marcela fired back. “I don’t give a damn what anyone else thought!”
“Obviously not, or you wouldn’t have behaved so deplorably!”
With tempers and emotions running high, they lapsed into rapid-fire Spanish, neither having the patience to accommodate the slower pace of English.
“I don’t understand where your father and I went wrong,” Marcela ranted, wringing her hands in consternation. “Even after we left Bogotá, we made sure you and your brothers would never forget where you came from. We moved into a community filled with other Colombians. We made you speak only Spanish at home. You attend the quinceañeras and parties and weddings of Colombians all the time! So is it asking too much for you to fall in love with a nice Colombian girl like Natalia?”
“Natalia?” Victor jeered.
“Yes, Natalia!”
“Let me tell you something about that ‘nice Colombian girl’ you’re so enamored of, Mama. Barely an hour after I first met her, she put her hand down my pants and offered to give me a blowjob. Three hours later she was doing that, and then some.”
“Victor!” Marcela gasped, clapping a hand to her mouth.
“Mijo,” his father said warningly.
But Victor wasn’t finished. “Do you know how many lovers Tamara had before me?” He held up a finger. “One, Mama. One. Now ask Natalia how many different men come and go from her apartment on a weekly basis.”
His mother looked so shocked and scandalized that Victor felt a stab of guilt. He knew he’d probably burn in hell for talking to her in such a crass, disrespectful manner. But after the way she’d conducted herself tonight, he didn’t give a damn. He was fed up with her putting Natalia on a pedestal. Enough was enough.
“I’ve known Tamara for more than a year,” he continued relentlessly. “We recently got stranded overnight at the hospital. We spent an entire night alone in the same room, and not once did Tamara try to seduce me, even though we’re very attracted to each other. You want to talk about nice girls, the kind you can bring home to your parents? Tamara is a nice girl, Mama. Not Natalia. Tamara. So let’s set the record straight right now!”
Marcela sank back against the sofa cushion, her hand trembling as she sketched a sign of the cross over her chest. “Why are you doing this to me, Victor?” she complained bitterly.
“What am I doing to you, Mama? Aren’t you the one who recently told me that my happiness is important? Didn’t you encourage me to bring home someone I found special?” His lips twisted mockingly. “Or did that only apply to Colombian women?”
His mother gave him a beseeching look. “¡Ay mijo! Don’t be that way, Victor. I saw the way you and Tamara were looking at each other tonight. No one is saying you can’t take her to bed. You’re a healthy young man with needs, and she is a beautiful girl. I know every man likes to try something different and exotic—”
Victor eyed her incredulously. “You think I’m just experimenting, Mama? You think Tamara’s just a novelty to me?”
“Of c
ourse!”
“Well, you’re wrong!”
Marcela stared up at him, her eyes wide with dread. “Mijo—”
“I love her, Mama. Do you understand? I love her. Even though we’ve only just started dating, I’ve asked her to move in with me. I want to marry her and come home to her every day. I want to have beautiful brown babies with her, and I hope to God we have a daughter who looks just like her.” He paused meaningfully. “Does any of that sound like I’m just experimenting?”
His parents exchanged stunned glances.
“I’m going to be with Tamara,” Victor told them, his voice etched in steel. “With or without your approval.”
Marcela bowed her head and closed her eyes, as if she were praying for strength—or divine intervention. Luis rubbed her back consolingly, looking at Victor.
“You have to understand where we’re coming from, mijo,” he said with quiet gravity. “We didn’t see this coming. All along you’ve been saying that you want to concentrate on finishing your residency before you think about marriage. And then, just a few days ago, you tell us about a woman you want us to meet. A woman we’ve never even heard of before. This is a lot for us to digest at once.”
“I understand that, Papa,” Victor said in a more conciliatory tone. “Believe me, I didn’t see any of this coming, either. Honestly, even with having such positive role models as you and Mama, I didn’t think it was possible for me to love any woman as much as I love Tamara.”
His father searched his eyes for several moments, then gave an imperceptible nod of understanding.
His wife, in contrast, crossed her arms mutinously over her chest and glared at Victor. “Don’t expect me to accept Tamara into this family. Because I won’t, Victor. Do you hear me? I won’t!”
Romancing the M.D. Page 12