by Hebby Roman
That was another bitter irony—all he had was her work number, not her personal cell. They’d been as intimate as any two human beings could be, and she hadn’t even bothered to give him her cell. Pretty pathetic.
Sighing, he put the phone in the pocket of his blazer and gathered the papers together, stuffing them into his briefcase. Maybe he’d stop by his parents’ house or Damian’s apartment. He needed to see people and talk to them, but not just anyone, he needed to see people who cared about him.
#
Her cell phone rang, and Adriana snatched it up. For one split second, hope flared until she glimpsed the number on display. She sighed and answered. Mr. Bennett was on the other end, demanding that she find tickets for a whale and his wife to see The Blue Men, even though he knew the show was sold out.
She reassured her boss that she would find the tickets. Her fingers sought her computer keyboard while she cast about in her mind for favors owed to her by other hotel guest relations reps. Not knowing what she was even looking for on the computer and with the cell phone still at ear, she clicked it off and put it on the desk. She forgot what she was supposed to be doing and just stared at her phone, willing it to ring again.
I should get busy, not sit here like a zombie, staring at the phone.
She didn’t have much time, or much hope of finding the tickets at this late date, but her boss would expect a miracle. Like a diver moving underwater, she forced her arms up against the invisible weight pulling at them. Her fingers found the keyboard, but they stubbornly refused to move.
Her work was no longer a challenge. In fact, it was the worst kind of drudgery, and she avoided greeting high rollers, trading those assignments with her coworkers. She had no need to be reminded of meeting Rafael and knowing from the beginning that he was different from the others.
She was glad the school term was almost over. Then she could concentrate on finding a real job and leave this tinsel town behind. Through the university’s recruitment office, she’d already lined up several interviews with interesting firms, in places as far away as New York. She should be excited, but she wasn’t. How strange was that?
All she felt was tired, exhausted. She’d probably just been working too hard.
She leaned her head against the back of the chair and closed her eyes. That was it—she needed to get more rest. And then she’d feel better and ready to take on the Big Apple. She just wished she knew one thing, though.
Why doesn’t he call?
#
Rafael paced in front of his parents’ picture window. He stopped and looked out at the at the festivities in the backyard. It was his niece’s, Carlos’ daughter’s, cumpleaños and the family had gone all out to make it a special occasion.
There were mounds of spicy food and a huge birthday cake on the redwood table in the yard. Several coolers dotted the outside deck, filled with soft drinks and cervezas. Paper lanterns and streamers hung from the awning overhead. And dangling from the trees were two colorful piñatas.
The kids, including the birthday girl, squirmed and squealed, forming two wavering lines, impatiently waiting to hit the piñatas with a stick so the candy inside would come raining down.
Watching the kids’ attempts to hit the swinging papier-máché creations, he couldn’t help but smile. He was glad he’d come, glad he’d sought out his family. He’d kept to himself too much lately, thinking about Adriana. And thinking and wishing wouldn’t change anything.
In two days he would return to Las Vegas for his interview, and he still hadn’t called her. He lifted a Corona to his lips and swallowed the yeasty brew. With the Corona label staring at him, he wished he’d gotten a Carta Blanca instead, because the Corona reminded him of their picnic in the mountains. Now he couldn’t even drink his favorite brand of beer without thinking of her.
One of the piñatas broke, spewing candy and bits of papier-máché over the grass. The kids dived for the spilled candy, falling together into a heap of flailing arms and legs. Severral of the mothers waded into the melee and tried to separate the children and restore some order so that everyone would get a fair share, but it was hopeless. The kids moved faster, and there were more of them.
Damian and his latest girlfriend, a leggy blond with the unlikely name of Chartres, emerged from behind one of the trees, having been discovered by the screaming, scrambling children. One glance was all Rafael needed to confirm what they’d been doing. Half of Chartres’ lipstick was smeared across her chin while the other half of it coated Damian’s mouth.
They laughed at the swarming children and joined hands. His twin pulled out his shirttail and wiped his mouth. Then he wetted the cloth with his tongue and cleaned Chartres’ face, too. Watching them, Rafael remembered the time he’d tried to clean chocolate from Adriana’s face.
Remembering how happy they’d been then, Rafael felt like someone had just punched him in the guts. The physical pain took his breath away and tied his stomach in knots. The blood at his temples pounded and he clenched his teeth, fighting back the anguish.
Okay, this is it. I’ve had enough of hurting like this. I’ll take my chances and hope for the best. Even if she does reject me, it’s better than doing nothing and not knowing. And having everything remind me of her.
#
When she saw Rafael’s name pop up on her IPhone, Adriana almost dropped the phone. She’d almost given up, believing he wasn’t going to call.
“Adriana, are you there?”
“Sure, I’m here, Rafael. It’s good to hear from you.” And she meant it, really meant it.
“How’s the weather?”
“Getting hot already.”
She was trembling with barely suppressed excitement. That couldn’t be good, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. And why were they talking about the weather? They weren’t exactly strangers.
He cleared his throat, the sound reminding her of her father. “I’ll be there in two days for my interview.”
“Great. I wish you all the luck.”
“I’d like to see you, Adriana. Do you have any free time?”
Here it was: the question she’d both craved and dreaded. After their last night together, she’d felt ashamed and frightened to see him again. Ashamed because she knew that if she saw him, she’d want to jump his bones—and frightened that her feelings for him were so intense.
She’d thought that his departure would take care of the situation and that she’d focus her energies on getting to New York and having her own interviews to start the next, exciting phase of her life.
But his leaving hadn’t helped. Like an orphaned puppy with her nose pressed against the windowpane, she’d practically slept with her cell phone, waiting for him to call her. Her work had suffered and so had school. She’d even had trouble sleeping and eating.
Deep down, she knew she shouldn’t see him again—that she just needed time to get over him. But when he asked to see her, she melted inside and couldn’t bring herself to say no.
“Yes, I’d like to get together,” she said. “I’m free Thursday night. How’s that?”
“Perfect. My interview is Thursday morning. What would you like to do?”
Devour you and spend all night in bed with you.
What was wrong with her? She’d never been so passionate in all her life. And if they were left to their own devices, they’d definitely end up in bed. And then it would be just that much harder to get over him.
A sudden inspiration hit her, and it was the perfect solution. “I want you to have dinner at my home and meet my father. Is that okay with you?”
“Claro que, sí,” he said. Though, she thought she detected a wary note in his voice. “I’d be honored to meet your father.”
“I’m glad you want to come. Maybe I’ll cook something Puerto Rican for you.” She remembered their time on the mountainside and talking about her mother’s cooking.
“You’ll be staying at the Xanadu?” she asked.
“Where else?”
She laughed. “See you then.”
After she clicked off her phone, she congratulated herself on accomplishing what she’d set out to do—make certain they weren’t alone. Make certain the temptation to get physical was removed. But was that really what she’d been doing? If they wanted to be intimate, even meeting her father wouldn’t stop them.
Where there was a will, there was a way. Right?
Or was her motivation far more subtle and duplicitous? Her father didn’t approve of Rafael’s profession, and her father could be painfully blunt at times. Was she using her father as a shield, hoping he’d do the dirty work for her, hoping he’d drive Rafael away, once and for all?
She covered her face with her hands and took a deep breath. She didn’t like to think she was capable of doing something like that, using her father to solve her problems and not caring if he hurt Rafael’s feelings. But was that true? Or was she using both of them to propel her to New York where she could leave them both behind for good?
This was all too confusing, especially the way she yearned for Rafael when she knew she shouldn’t. She’d never felt like this about anyone before. And she wasn’t ready to feel this way, either. Her life was still ahead of her.
Maybe she just wanted her father’s blessing or some encouraging words that she could have both Rafael and her career. Maybe she wanted her father to see how really special Rafael was.
She just wished she knew what she wanted.
#
“Get Señor Escobedo some more tostónes, Adriana,” Miguel de Los Santos called to his daughter in the kitchen. “He’s devoured the ones you gave him, and looks ready for more.”
Rafael nodded and smiled, not wanting to speak with his mouth full. The tostónes were delicious, especially when dipped in the buttery garlic sauce Adriana had made. The whole meal had been a treat. They’d had a salad garnished with ripe avocado slices, pork chops, saffron rice, black beans, and the fried plantains, called tostónes.
“Tell Rafael to save room for the arroz con dulce,” Adriana called from the kitchen.
“Rice pudding,” Miguel murmured, almost to himself, his tone wistful, “a specialty of my late wife’s. I haven’t had it in years.”
Rafael wiped his mouth with the starched linen napkin. “I guess Adriana doesn’t have much time to cook because of school and work.”
Her father gazed at him, and his blue-gray eyes were definitely watery looking. Rafael guessed that he was thinking of his late wife. Before dinner, Adriana had proudly shown Rafael pictures of her mother. Carmen de Los Santo, like her daughter, was lovely.
And Miguel de Los Santos was a nice-looking man, too. The older man wasn’t tall, but he held himself stiffly erect, his proud carriage making him appear taller. And his features were attractive, the silver-gray hair at his temples lending him a dignified air.
With two such attractive parents, it was no wonder that Adriana was such a beauty.
“No,” Miguel replied, “Adriana doesn’t cook much. Usually our housekeeper, Marta, does the cooking.”
“But Adriana wanted tonight to be special, she told me. She wanted to cook some of her mother’s dishes for you.” He cleared his throat and speared Rafael with his gaze. “Although, I don’t understand why.”
“Probably because we compared notes on our mothers’ cooking once. I explained about Mexican food, and she told me about Puerto Rican dishes.”
Adriana appeared at the doorway to the kitchen, holding a tray with desserts and coffee cups. “What are you two men talking about?”
Rafael laid his napkin aside and rose. “Mira, let me help you.”
“That’s okay, I’ve got it,” she said, placing the tray on the end of the table. “I need to get the coffeepot, though. I’ll be right back.”
His gaze followed the gentle sway of her hips beneath the demure cotton dress she’d worn for tonight. Flashes of her body, naked and coated with perspiration, rose before him, bringing a rush of heat to his groin and drying the inside of his mouth.
He sat down and sipped his glass of water. “What were we talking about?”
“Foolishness,” Miguel replied, “about cooking and such.” Clearing his throat again, he said, “I like to think I’m a modern man, Señor Escobedo.”
Where was her father going with this?
“Please call me Rafael.”
Her father inclined his head. “You must call me Miguel, then. I won’t stand on ceremony because, as I was saying, I like to think I’m a modern man. Women’s places are no longer in the kitchen and the nursery, you know. They have a wider role to play in today’s world. Their careers are just as important as men’s. Don’t you agree?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I’ve raised Adriana to believe in her abilities and pursue her ambitions. And I have every reason to believe she will make me proud.”
A chill chased down Rafael’s spine. Just as he’d guessed, this was where Adriana was getting her rigid views on life and how her career must come first. It was a powerful message, coming from her only living parent. But Rafael disagreed with her father—a career wasn’t everything.
Miguel might pride himself on how modern he was, but nothing was black and white in this world. Rafael had watched his mother and other women struggle to balance work and family. His mother had possessed an advantage, because she’d worked alongside her husband in a family business.
Even a backwater academician like himself was aware of the price of success in the corporate world. To succeed meant long hours and putting your personal life on hold. His twin brother was living proof, and it was one of the things Rafael liked least about the corporate world, especially for women. The way things were still structured, even in this new millennium, forced women to make a choice—family and limited success, or no family and plenty of success. He knew of some women who tried to do it all, but it was a constant balancing act.
So her father expected her to succeed in the corporate world. And Adriana wanted to please him and make him proud. But at what price?
Now he understood why Adriana kept emotional barriers in place. And she’d told him that her career had to come first, but he hadn’t known then how thoroughly she’d been conditioned to believe she must succeed at all costs.
Adriana placed a dish of pudding along with a coffee cup in front of him. “Earth to Rafael,” she teased. “Would you like some coffee?”
He smiled at her. “Please.” Then he turned his attention back to her father. He wanted to say what was on his mind, but he didn’t want to argue with the man.
He opted for the most diplomatic reply he could think of and said, “I agree with you, señor. Women have a right to their own careers. My mother worked alongside my father, establishing a chain of restaurants.”
“Ah, your parents are entrepreneurs. My compliments to them. I have a great respect for people who start and operate their own businesses. It is the American dream, is it not?”
“Yes, thank you. But my mother was fortunate,” Rafael couldn’t help adding. “Working in her own business gave her the flexibility to care for her family.”
“Flexibility? Why did your mother need flexibility? An efficiently run house will take care of itself, especially if you’re careful about selecting domestic help. Adriana’s mother worked full-time as a nurse with two small children in the house, and she never needed flexibility. She managed just fine.”
Adriana silently offered Rafael the sugar bowl and creamer. Her gaze snagged his, and she lifted her eyebrows, giving her head a shake. He took the sugar bowl but waved aside the creamer, and he thought he understood her silent message: that her mother’s full-time career, along with taking care of her family, hadn’t been as easy or as simple as her father claimed.
He wished she would say something, even if it was a memory she had of her mother being pulled between her career and family. But Adriana remained silent with her head down while she stirred her coffee.
Rafael spooned some sugar into his coffee. Letting
his coffee cool, he took a bite of the rice pudding and said, “This is great, Adriana. My compliments to the cook.”
“Yes, well done, m’ija. It tastes just like your mother’s. Brings back memories.” He cleared his throat once more.
For several minutes they were all busy with their desserts and coffee. Rafael expected Adriana or her father to start speaking again, but when the unnatural silence began to wear thin, he decided to say something.
“I understand you have a very demanding career, Miguel.” Having been raised to be scrupulously polite to his elders, he had trouble with using her father’s first name. But he forced himself to do it, since her father had asked him to.
“Yes, I’m the executive director of a large resort. I’m, as the saying goes, ‘where the buck stops.’” He forced a semblance of laughter. “And what that means, in a nutshell, is that all the problems my subordinates can’t solve get dumped in my lap.”
“That does sound demanding and stressful,” Rafael replied.
Miguel sighed. “It’s a challenge. But I’m paid well, very well.” He paused and looked up from his rice pudding. “Adriana tells me you’re here for a job interview with the University of Las Vegas. ¿De verdad?”
“That’s correct. I had my final interview this morning, and I should be hearing back from them within the week.”
“I was wondering why you didn’t you enter your family’s business.” Miguel asked.
He’d heard this before from Adriana, and Rafael glanced at her for help. But she avoided his eyes and busied herself with gathering the empty pudding dishes. She rose and returned to the kitchen, which left him alone with her father.
And this time, he could sense the simmering tension in the air.
“I don’t like the restaurant business,” he said. “I’m afraid only my eldest brother, Carlos, decided to enter the business. The rest of us had other ambitions.”
“Well, it is fitting for the eldest to take over the business,” Miguel observed. “But I’m certain you could have grown the business if more of you had followed your parents’ example.” He sipped his coffee. “It just seems such a waste to have a viable family enterprise, and only the one son taking on the responsibility out of ... how many children did you say were in your family?”