Romance in Color

by Synithia Williams

  “I’m not sure. I like you. I care for you.”

  “And when I touch you?”

  “I ... um ... like it.” She twisted a lock of hair that had escaped from her ponytail.

  “I can’t tell you what love is, cariño. You’ll need to figure that out on your own. But I know I miss you when I don’t see you, and I’m happy when you’re here, and when I do this”—he touched her lips with his—“I want more.”

  “Oh.”

  “Exactly.”

  They looked at each other for a few seconds before he bent his head again and took her mouth, this time with more force.

  She leaned toward him, greedily sating her hunger for connection with his lips. Her need surprised her.

  Raúl pulled her closer.

  Her nipples tightened as the planes of his body flattened against hers. He tasted of spearmint and masculinity. The flavors heightened her need. Only all of him would do.

  A noise from the car brought her back to sanity.

  Chapter 15

  The pediatric office had been slammed most of the day—summer colds, minor injuries from overactivity, bug bites, and rashes. Normal stuff in a normal day.

  But his life was no longer normal. It had been turned upside down by an attractive, intelligent, and passionate woman. The kiss had been a tease. He wanted more, but the situation was so complicated, he couldn’t fathom how anything more than kissing would ever occur.

  How long was Juan going to stay? When would Alicia’s grandmother be released from the hospital? What kind of care would she need? How could he best help the woman he was growing to love?

  Questions spun like a tornado through his mind, roiling up his blood and launching a throbbing in his temples. If he was in this state, how was Alicia feeling?

  He eyed his cell phone.

  The buzzer sounded. “Mrs. Rodriguez is here with Allan,” Graciela said. “He’s gotten some kind of rash.”

  “I’ll be there in a minute.” Rashes weren’t life-threatening.

  He dialed Alicia, but the phone went to voice mail. “I’m thinking of you, cariño. I’ll be done at four thirty, and I’ll call you then. Let me know if you need anything—don’t worry about interrupting. Just call the office and have them find me.”

  Should he say anything else?

  “I want to see you again soon.” He hung up the phone.

  I want to see you again soon? He groaned. He was lousy at this romantic stuff.

  As he dealt with patients in the afternoon, he anticipated hearing from her, seeing her later in the day. He wanted to be there for her.

  The next time he called, it went through.

  First things first.

  “How are you doing, cariño? Abuela?”

  “She’s more alert. They found a blockage, and they’re going to put in a stent tomorrow.”

  “That’s quick.”

  “They’re worried.”

  “Sí.”

  Silence.

  “And Luis? Have you found help yet?”

  “No. Elizabeth assures me my job is safe for me to return to when Abuela is better, but without an immediate income, it’s going to be hard. Little boys need food and clothing.”

  Raúl’s jaw clenched. The boy’s father gave her no support—claiming the child wasn’t his. It made him want to strangle the gangbanger.

  “I tried to call you before,” he said. “Did you get my message?”

  “I was with my grandmother. I called you back.” She hesitated. “Graciela said you’d gone out for a while.”

  The lower half of his face began to ache. “She lied. I was here.” He was going to have to do something about that girl.

  “I was afraid of that.”

  More silence.

  “Alicia, I’d like to bring you some take-out for dinner—pizza maybe?”

  “Trying to get me addicted to your poor dinner choices?” A smile lit her voice.

  “Not really. Just thinking of something easy. Maybe we can convince Luis to try it.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Does that mean ‘yes’?”

  “Okay.” After a second, she added, “That didn’t come out the way I meant. I guess all this is getting to me. I don’t think I realized how much of a burden Abuela was carrying.”

  “Mmm.” God, he was inept. How could he court a woman when he couldn’t think of any advice to give her?

  “What I meant to say was, I’d be very happy to see you tonight—especially if you come with food.”

  “Do you want to see me or the pizza?” The ability to banter was coming back to him.

  “Oh, the pizza—definitely the pizza.” The smile was back in her voice.

  Maybe he wasn’t as bad at this as he thought.

  Maybe she’d even let him kiss her again.

  “What about Juan?” she asked.

  “Juan?”

  “Your brother.”

  “Oh, him.”

  “Will he be okay on his own?” A thread of worry trickled into her voice.

  “He’s a grown man, Alicia. He can take care of himself.” He clenched the phone. What was he doing talking about Juan where the NSA might hear him?

  “Besides,” he said, “he left this morning.”

  “Where’d he go?”

  “No idea.” That should satisfy the feds.

  The light on his office phone lit up. His next patient was ready.

  “I have to go. I’ll see you tonight, cariño.” His voice softened at the thought.

  “Sí.”

  Patients kept him busy for the next few hours, which deferred his pique at his assistant. “Graciela,” he said when the stream of humanity slowed for a few minutes. “In my office.”

  She closed the door behind her, smiled, and smoothed her short skirt.

  “Sit down. When a call comes in for me from Alicia, you are to let me know. You are not to lie to her.”

  A mini frown wrinkled her eyebrows for a millisecond before the almost impertinent smile returned to her lips. “What did she tell you? I never talked to her. She’s trouble, that girl. I’ve tried to warn you.”

  “Enough!” He stood, his temper barely held in check.

  Her skin paled.

  “I’m warning you, Graciela. I’ve had enough of your disrespect, especially where my girlfriend is concerned. You will treat her decently, or you’ll find another job.”

  “I thought Dr. Patel handled employees.” She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “She’s the one who hired me.”

  “Oh, trust me. I’ll be sure to discuss this with her. She’ll handle the formality of writing you up.”

  Graciela stood, her slightly parted lips at odds with her aggressive stance. “I was only trying to protect you, Dr. Raúl. I know Alicia. She will break your heart.” A shrug. “But if you want me to allow that to happen ...”

  “Be careful, Graciela. Your job is on the line.”

  Maybe he couldn’t fight for justice for an entire country, like his brother, but he could defend the woman he cared for.

  • • •

  He arrived at Alicia’s close to five thirty, Pizza My Heart pizza in hand. His heart had somehow developed an extra beat, and his gait a quicker stride.

  Was this how love was supposed to feel? Had he ever been in love before?

  “You’ve got it bad,” Juan had told him when he called to explain where he was going.

  “And how would you know?”

  Juan had laughed, and they’d gotten off the phone quickly, fear of the NSA a cloud over any electronic conversation.

  No matter what happened, he was glad Juan had shown up, giving him a chance to know some part of his family as an adult.

  “Come in!” Alicia shouted from somewhere inside the house when he rang the doorbell. “Kitchen.”

  A squeal from Luis guided him to a room toward the back.

  He stopped at the entrance to take in the sight of her. Her dark hair was held by a silver clip he longed to remov
e, just to see the hair tumbling down her back, ready for his fingers.

  Luis was in his highchair, eyes wide as he stared at him.

  “Thank goodness you’re here.” Alicia removed the box from his hands and placed it on the table. “I thought I’d go mad with his shrieking. I don’t know why he stops when you’re around, but I’m happy he does.” She took a breath as if to continue talking.

  He stepped to her.

  Her lips were as sweet as he remembered. He wanted more, but a pounding from the direction of the highchair reminded him they weren’t alone.

  “How about some pizza, little man?” he asked as he crouched in front of Luis.

  The boy was glaring at him like he had a fistful of anger in his gut.

  “I always wonder what he’s thinking when he looks like that,” Alicia said.

  “Probably wondering why the world doesn’t make sense.” He pulled out a slice of pizza and cut it into little chunks. “We neuro-typicals pick up a lot of information by facial clues and don’t even realize it. Most on the autism scale know they’re missing something but don’t know what it is.” He shrugged. “They get frustrated and don’t know how to express that either.”

  “Poor kid.” She kissed Luis’s forehead, but it didn’t erase the scowl on his little face.

  “Try this.” Raúl put a cooled piece of pizza on the highchair tray.

  Luis eyed it suspiciously for a few minutes and then picked it up and shoved it in his mouth. As soon as he swallowed, he pounded on the tray.

  “I think we have a hit.” Raúl laughed, comfortable in the long-ago familiar trappings of family. Could this be possible again in his life?

  “Thank you for taking care of Luis last night,” Alicia said after they were seated. “It was a relief to go to school and only think about sociology and business. I even halfway enjoyed the financial stuff—kept my mind off heavier thoughts.”

  She put a few more pieces on Luis’s tray, then took a bite of her own pizza.

  Raúl was mesmerized by the sight of her lips as she chewed. She must have felt him staring, because she looked up at him. A faint color on her cheeks told him she was blushing.

  Desire made him shift in his seat.

  “Is that all you want from me?” she asked, startling him from his fantasy.

  “No, cariño.” He took her hand. “I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t part of it, but it’s not everything.” He searched for words to explain what he meant. “I’m willing to work to become the best man I can be for you. Remember, I told you I’ve joined a support group—people who understand what I went through and can help me deal with my mood swings.”

  He’d laid the most vulnerable piece of himself on the table between them. What would she do?

  “Thank you.” She squeezed the hand he was still holding.

  “You’ve brought something into my life. Something I thought was gone forever when they deported my family.”

  “What’s that?”

  Again, he groped for words. “A sense of ... I don’t know ... I guess ... belonging.” That was the word. “With you, I’m not alone anymore. I can see into the future, and it isn’t black.”

  “I know what you mean. There’s a sense of peace when I’m with you. Even with Abuela, Luis, and everything else.” She bit her lower lip. “But it worries me, too. I’m young. What if I change? What if what we have right now isn’t enough to keep us together?”

  The tightness in his chest loosened a little. She was considering a future with him! He wanted to jump up and do a funky dance to celebrate.

  Then the rest of her words caught up with him.

  “My parents are still together, through everything, and they married when they were in their teens,” he said. “Yes, people change. They changed, but they loved each other enough to adapt.”

  “I don’t know if I love you.” She glanced away from him but didn’t pull her hand back.

  “Don’t know or don’t want to admit?”

  She looked back at him but didn’t say anything.

  “Yeah, I’m probably rushing things some.” Juan had given him a taste of family, and Raúl didn’t want to let that go when his brother left to go back to wherever it was he was going.

  “Raúl, I’ve got a lot going on right now. I still don’t have a handle on what’s up with Luis, my grandmother just had a heart attack, and I don’t know what I’m doing with the rest of my life. I want to believe in love—and the possibility of love with you ...” Her smile deepened, shining through to her eyes.

  “Let me help you.”

  Her expression drooped. “I’m not sure you can help me with all of those things. You’re already doing a lot for Luis. The rest of it I have to figure out for myself, don’t you think?”

  “I can be a good listener.”

  “For a guy, you’re not bad.” She chuckled.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She grinned. “It’s not like I haven’t been around men. I see how Hunter and Marcos are with Sarah and Elizabeth.”

  “And? Why do you think men don’t listen?”

  “Oh, they’ll listen—to a point. Then they tell you how to fix your problem.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” He frowned.

  “We don’t want you to fix our problems.”

  “You don’t? Then why are you talking to us?” He was thoroughly confused now.

  “We just want you to listen.” She gave Luis another piece of pizza before she began to clear the table.

  “What’s the use in that?”

  “Works for us.”

  “Huh.” He folded the pizza box closed. Women. No wonder he’d never had success with them. They were the most confusing species on the planet.

  • • •

  Raúl pulled into the parking lot of Don Rafa’s Super Mercado to pick up some take-out for lunch.

  “Is that wise?” he asked Juan when his brother pushed open the car door.

  “What? I’m just another Latino face.”

  “First you insist on coming to the meeting, now you’re going to go to the most popular Spanish market in Watsonville.” Raúl slammed the door a little harder than he’d intended. “You’re not just another face. You’re a strange face.”

  “Stop worrying, little bro. No one’s going to turn me in.”

  “Anglos shop here, too, you know.”

  Juan waved his hand. “You’re an old woman, bro.”

  Stacks of fresh produce—leeks, spinach, lettuce, as well as some more obscure vegetables he couldn’t name—lined one wall. Counters of take-out gave way to an extensive array of meats, many of which were pre-marinated.

  “Got any skirt steak?” Raúl asked the man behind the counter.

  The man looked at the empty container in the refrigerated case. “I think we may have more in back, Dr. Raúl.”

  “Thanks.”

  An older but familiar-looking Anglo moved closer to Raúl. “Dr. Raúl Mendez?”

  “Yes. Can I help you?” Fear rippled through him, and he glanced around. Juan was inspecting beer in another corner of the store.

  The man stuck out his hand. “Joe Wilson. I sent you a letter a few weeks ago.”

  Raúl stared at the proffered hand and said, “I got it.” Fear was driven out by anger at the damage this man was trying to do. He longed to choke some sense into the bigot.

  Taking in a deep breath, one of the techniques he’d learned at his support group, he gained control of his temper.

  “What do you think? Will you support me so real, tax-paying Americans can get the services we need without having to wait in line behind the illegals getting their free services?”

  Joe Wilson was oblivious.

  “California hospitals and doctors are being overrun by these people with ever-expanding families,” he continued. “If we band together, we can stop them.”

  More than oblivious. He was an idiot. Did he know where he was?

  Raúl’s temples throbbed. He g
lanced again at the beer section. Juan had made his selection and was headed their way.

  He needed to get out of the market.

  “Dr. Raúl, how much do you want?” the man called out from behind the counter.

  “A couple of pounds will do.” Raúl moved away from Joe Wilson, hoping he’d get the hint.

  Wilson followed him. “It’s not only Anglos who are suffering. Your people who are here legally are hurting, too.”

  Raúl’s tongue was going to bleed from biting it so hard.

  “Here you go.” The man behind the counter handed him his white-wrapped package.

  “What do you think?” Wilson wouldn’t let it go.

  “Don’t contact me again.” Raúl stalked to the front of the store, snagging Juan on his way to the front.

  “Who was that?” Juan asked when they got to the car.

  “Joe Wilson.”

  “Oh. I hope you guys can do something to keep that law from passing.”

  “You and me both.”

  The traffic through the town was easy, and they arrived at the condo within a few minutes of leaving the market.

  “I’m going to take a walk,” Juan said after they finished their lunch. “It’s a beautiful day. Want to come?”

  “Nope. You go ahead.”

  “You look like you could use a walk, bro.”

  “I’ve lived a long time without an older brother. Don’t try to make up for my lack in a few short weeks.”

  Juan laughed. “See you.”

  Raúl took a beer and his tablet and went out to his tiny porch. The view from the small space had been what sold him on the condo. While it lacked the drama or the price of an ocean view, the fields soothed him, reminded him of the good times in his childhood, before everything had gone so terribly wrong.

  But he was no longer a teenager, afraid of authorities and cowering from his abusive uncle. He was a man. He didn’t need to pummel everyone with his fists to prove it, but there were things he could do.

  He pulled out his phone and tried to reach his tío, Alejandro. The last attempts had gone straight to voice mail.

  This time, he had success.

  “Buenos días, Raúl,” Alejandro greeted him warmly after hearing his voice. “I hope you are well.”

  “Sí. Summertime is beautiful in California.”

  “And in Mexico.”