“No idea. Surprise me.” She flopped down on the couch and waited for him.
He came back with a full glass of red wine and a wooden spoon. He knelt again in front of her, presenting both objects. “For you.
She took both. “What's this?”
“A spoon.”
She couldn't help it; she poked him in the shoulder. “I know it's a spoon. Why did you bring me a spoon?”
“I didn't see a ruler to discipline me, so I brought a spoon.”
She licked her lips. “You want me to punish you?”
He began to rub her left foot, starting on the red lines from her shoe. “When I saw you, I thought you were hot and angry. Like no one listens to you. Like there was stuff you had to get out. So I want to help you feel better.”
She took a sip of the wine and laid back against the pillows. He could massage his heart out on her arches any day. “It was a crappy day.”
“How crappy?” He’d switched to her other foot.
“So crappy. A piece of shit day. I had to admit a four-day-old for heroin withdrawal. The mom had used through pregnancy, and the baby wouldn’t stop crying. Two parents told me mandatory vaccinations were a government ploy to implant tracking microchips in children. And some asshole showed up at my office to shout at me and I had to call security.”
“It does sound bad. Did you punch him?”
“Are you kidding? Punch him.”
“Fine, did you want to punch him?”
“Yes, that chico was all up in my face. Yelling at me. ‘Donde esta mis ninos, perra gorda.Where are my children, bitch? Tell me now you... You’ll be sorry.’” She edited out the Spanish word for fat.
“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” He kept rubbing her feet, moving up to her calf.
“I’m fine. Security escorted thatnebulosoboricuaout the door,” she said. There was no great English translation for that. Shady native Puerto Rican didn’t have the same ring to it.
“But it doesn’t fix what he said or did.” The Man in Black didn’t seem to care if he understood it all or not.
She shook her head. “This won’t be the first or last time a custody battle gets ugly. We have a procedure for this.”
“Electronic monitoring bracelet for jerks like him.” He paused from the massage.
She used the spoon to whack him on the arm. “Back to work.”
“Sorry. Not electronic monitoring bracelet. What do they do instead?”
“Like I told him, he can get his ID scanned and fill out a release of information request just like everybody else.” She gripped the spoon till her knuckles turned white.
“Sounds like there's more than that, you just tensed up.”
Hot tears formed behind her eyes. “He called me,Chunga Mule.” Growing up, she’d been called worse as a mixed kid with a Puerto Rican mom and Black dad. She didn’t fit into a neat category since she spoke Spanish like a native. Still, it never stopped hurting, especially when it came from someone from her community who did it with laser aimed insults.
“I don’t know what those mean.”
“A mule is a drug mule. A Chunga is… a Latina acting Black.” She took the mask and nun’s habit off, letting him see her face and hair for the first time.
He licked his lips, not the slightest bit turned off by her dark brown skin and newly freed black curls. “It sounds like a drink that you’re gonna chug. I’d chug you.” He teasingly reached up her thigh, and she hit him again with the spoon.
“Very funny. It’s not a drink, and coming from him, it just shows we can be our own worst enemies.”
“And you had to stand there and take it.”
