Alex nods. That sounds sophisticated and very much up L’s alley.
“I always thought you should do something like that, sis. So, have you told Dad yet?” The moment he says it, he realizes it’s a stupid question. “I mean, you’re not doing it for him, of course, but I know it will make him happy.”
“It does. I told him about it as soon as I realized that I wanted to do this, and he was just besides himself. He offered to pay for it, but… if I get an assistantship, it would all be free. Can you imagine? And I could continue working where I do, and I really want to, so… But anyway, I won’t start applying before the Fall, but I spoke to my professor from CUNY who said I could probably get into the program at NYU. Isn’t that awesome?”
She’s talking very fast, and her eyes light up. She’s so funny sometimes.
“Anyway, Tati’s very happy. With me. I think that’s why he even agreed to this party.”
Alex nods.
“So our mother is celebrating that you’re not getting married, and our father is celebrating that you finally decided to go to grad school.”
L smiles and takes another sip of champagne.
“Yes. Though I think I’m still on probation. You know, they came up with some sort of punishment for me. It’s quite ridiculous.”
Alex raises his eyebrows.
“Do tell.”
L chuckles.
“Well, I guess it’s not so bad. But once a week I have to go pick up Mami at the store after work. We go to the supermarket and buy groceries according to a budget and to what’s in season. Then we go to her place and she shows me how to cook a meal out of it. And then we drink wine and talk and I have to sleep over.”
“Sounds like Mom’s idea of the perfect mother and daughter experience.”
L laughs. Alex gives her a long look.
“Come on, I know you secretly enjoy it! There’s nothing wrong with that either!”
L blushes. In the heyday of his immaturity and their sibling rivalry, he used to call her a spineless sucker for being completely ga-ga over Mom. Now he almost feels her.
“I’ll tell you a secret, sis. Mom’s plan to infiltrate our lives is elaborate and far-reaching. You know she started calling me after Easter and leaving all these messages: ‘I’m your damn mother. (Yep. She said ‘damn’). You call me or I come to upstate and kick your ass like you never imagine!’ I swear, I have no clue where all the profanity comes from, and she never used that tone of voice with me before, it was always ‘my sweetie, please call Mami, Mami love you so much, why you not call back?’” He rolls his eyes and tries to imitate Mom’s voice. He must be doing a good job because L can’t stop giggling. “So guess what, sis, I finally picked up the phone and called ‘my damn mother’, for like the first time since going to college, and then once I set the precedent it was kind of hard to stop, so now she makes me call her at least once a week. And we’ve moved from talking for five minutes to actually chatting for half an hour. And seriously, I think I might just have to grow up and admit it, there’s nothing wrong with talking to your damn mother once a week, and there’s nothing wrong with actually enjoying it.”
“Well, at least she doesn’t make you chop vegetables!”
“Mom and her vegetables! I usually know it’s time to get off the phone when she asks me to list the vegetables I had that day, or to read the list of ingredients on the frozen meals in my freezer. ‘No, my sweetie. That stuff so unhealthy. Look at salt content. So bad for you. I want you stop eating corn syrup. Corn syrup like poison. Causes diabetes’.”
L laughs.
“No way! That’s crazy! But then again, that’s Mami!”
“Yeah, it’s almost cute. I picture her sitting there with reading glasses and a dictionary, trying to figure out if my food is slowly but surely giving me cancer.”
They laugh. They drink more champagne. They feed Shirley until she’s ready to burst. His date returns, her nose powdered to perfection. L’s friend summons her over, the one with the baby. She’s carrying a giant bag and seems to have that little guy all ready to go. Alex shakes her hand goodbye, and L follows her through the crowd of people.
*
Maria steps outside to see Rachelle off. It’s clearly and irrevocably summer. The air feels hot and sticky, almost stifling. Her eyes follow the noisy avenue into the horizon. She sees lights, and cars, and people bustling about, a charged and energetic sort of harmony, the lifeblood of this crazy, dirty city. The summer air clings to her skin. She welcomes it. She’s happy. And so the question comes to mind that she’s been asking herself these days. Now that everything is well in her world, is she still sorry she came to America, or does she finally concede that Victor’s choice has been a good one? She’ll never know what could have been, and tonight, tipsy on champagne, and floating on happiness, she finally sees things clearly. It doesn’t matter in the end. In truth, she knows, there is no way to deem Victor’s choice good or bad. We have only one life, and there’s no way to know how other lives could have turned out. Speculation is useless, as happiness is unpredictable. She’ll never know what could have been. Their alternate lives might have been better, worse, or maybe just the same. All she can know is that now, in this very moment, things are good. The twists and turns, the choices and chances that led here might have been wrong or right. What use wondering about it all? We only live once, and our pasts are as impossible to qualify as they are to undo. The key is to let go and to enjoy the moment. After all, it is what it is.
THE END
Although I don’t believe in sequels, when one of my favorite readers told me how much she missed these characters and wanted to find out what happens next, I weaved them into a follow-up story, Lost Path to Solitude. You can reconnect with them there.
Dogs With Bagels Page 35