“Got the food. Let’s go.”
I didn’t let her talk, pulling her toward the library.
We could debrief about my probably ill-advised outburst there.
chapter three
nesto
I stood there watching Jude walk off toward the library after tugging Carmen by the arm.
His Spanish was great and totally caught me by surprise. And damn his ass was fine. He knew it, too.
I was thinking Jude and his ass were going to be a serious monkey wrench in my “total focus” plan for the next six months when I heard my mom chuckling in the back.
“What are you laughing at?”
“At your face when that rubiohit on you. His Spanish is pretty good!”
Of course, my mom overheard.
“Damn, Mamí, it’s like your ears get supersonic or something if there’s a man I can even remotely think of dating in the vicinity.”
She would probably be telling me to ask him out within the next few minutes. I’d been here less than twenty-four hours, and she had already started on me about finding someone. How I was “too good and handsome to be alone,” and “any man with good sense would want me for a partner.”
“I’m not gonna lie, he is pretty, but I kind of have my hands full at the moment,” I exclaimed, waving said hands around.
“Aym’ijo, I’m not saying marry him, just ask him out for a drink. He’s a good dresser, too. I like that, formal,” she said,giving me a disapproving look. “Not wearing jeans and t-shirts everywhere like someone I know.”
As soon as she talked about his clothes my mind drifted to Jude again. His outfit had been pretty fly. Slim gray chinos—which did wonders for his ass—navy boat shoes, and a blue cardigan over a white shirt. But what made me take notice was the chartreuse bowtie completing the ensemble. He’d looked like a fashion magazine’s version of a sexy librarian. I snapped out of it before my mom started making fun of me for “daydreaming about the gringo.”
When I turned, I found her looking at me like she had every single one of my numbers. “Mamí, it’s like seven hundred degrees in this truck. I have to dress like this, or I’ll die from a heat stroke.”
“Pssh, you’re Dominican, you were born in one- hundred-degree heat with one-hundred-and-ten percent humidity.” She waved me and my whining off. “This is nothing, people wear coats in Santo Domingo when it’s this cool out.”
It was seventy-six outside and the truck was steamy, but I laughed anyway, because she wasn’t lying.
“En serio,m’ijo, don’t get so focused on the truck you forget to live your life. You can have some balance.” She bumped my shoulder as I tried to grab something from the shelf behind her. “You forget sometimes, papí. You’re such agood man, so serious and hardworking, but you also need some love. Someone to carry the burdens with you. Don’t be like me, sweetheart.”
I really looked at her then, her hair in a sweaty bun, with grease all over her hands, decked out in one of her many OuNYe t-shirts, and I felt so much love for this woman.
My mother, my biggest supporter, my rock. Taking vacation time from work to come sweat it out with me in this truck, because it was my dream. Emotion swelled inside me and I got closer to give her a hug.
“Mamí, at my best, I could only dream of being half as strong and badass as you. You’re my hero.” I leaned down and kissed her forehead.
“Then listen to your hero and ask the cute blond guy out,” she said, playfully poking her finger into my chest. “Winter nights in Ithaca can be lonely and cold. And watch your language.”
I pinched her cheek and conceded, “Okay, okay, mujer! I’ll ask him out when I see him, it’s not like it’s a hardship.”
“Don’t worry so much, m’ijo, you’ll see, this truck will be doing great business in no time.”
I shook my head at her, because my mother’s optimism and certainty I could do anything never waned.
“You’ll have your own restaurant in town by the end of the year.”
“I don’t know about all that. But one can hope, right?”
“I do know. Listen to your mother and keep doing what you’re doing, and you’ll see.”
