This was my MO.
Anytime a lover tried to be kind or surprised me by not fulfilling my expectations of being a fuckboy, I mined every word or action for the true meaning, the hidden subtext or falsehood. I filled in the blanks with my own self-doubts and baggage. Then I tried to smother my own neurosis by throwing myself into the relationship too hard and too fast, until I either ran out of steam and walked away or scared the other guy off with my clinginess.
And where the fuck was I going with any of this? Tom wasn’t my lover. Tom wasn’t myanything. He was a guy I was working with, so I needed to get my shit together. My face must have been doing something particularly distressing because when Tom finally looked up, he did a double take at whatever he saw. I tried to smile it away and pointed at the estimate. “Any questions?”
He gave me a worried look, but in the end just shook his head. “This all looks good to me. Honestly, I’m not looking to be this closely involved in the decision making for the project, Camilo. I chose New Beginning because you’re doing important work in my community and have a great track record. I trust you.” He said, earnestly. “My expectation is to get an update and maybe hear about how things are going when we meet. I don’t think it’s my place to pick who you use as contractors or anything else.”
He could have said that from the beginning, but I wasn’t going to make a thing out of it.
“All right,” I nodded as he handed me the papers, trying not to get distracted by how hot he looked in that sapphire blue cashmere sweater. “Well then, I guess the update is we have acontractor. I’ll talk to Melissa tomorrow morning and let her know we’re good to go. We’ll do the renovations in stages, so it doesn’t affect operations too much. The whole thing should be done within six months, give or take. We should have a fully renovated shelter by March.”
I couldn’t keep the excitement out of my voice for the last part. We’d been wanting to do some work on the shelter ever since I’d started five years ago and our goals for what we could do never got close to all the changes Tom’s generous donation would allow.
“Thank you, Tom, really, from all of us at New Beginning. This project is life-changing for the residential program.”
He shook his head again, as if trying to push away the compliment.
“Like I said in the first meeting, I’m very happy and honored to be able to do this. This is something very close to my heart. I’m just glad I have the means to make it happen.”
This should have been a great moment to wind things down and get the hell out of there, instead I blurted out, “Who are you doing this for?”
It seemed like whenever he was around me, Tom’s face only had two settings: amusement and disbelief. We sat there quietly for a second and after a moment, he leaned in closer.
“I guess it’s time for us to get to know each other then.”
chapter eight
tom
Camilo looked a little spooked at my suggestion we get to know each other, but since he asked the question, I was going to go with it. I wanted to know everything about him. Who he loved; where all the prickliness came from.
So, before he could take it back, I went in. “I wanted to do something in honor of my tía’s memory. My mother’s youngest sister.” I cleared my throat because suddenly I was feeling choked up. “She died when I was sixteen. She was living here then. She’d been in a very abusive relationship for a long time. Her husband had convinced her to leave the DR, claiming they needed to be away from our family and all the meddling.”
I closed my eyes, remembering how my mom and my grandmother begged her not to go. Telling her they were scared something would happen to her when she was all on her own with him.
Camilo’s face changed then, and all I could see was concern, his entire body totally focused on what I was saying. Those gray eyes flashing. All the abrasiveness gone now.
“That’s typical abuser behavior, to isolate.” He angled his head, as if assessing how this conversation was affecting me. “Sounds like your family tried their best to be supportive.”
I pursed my lips, remembering how awful that time was. “They tried, but in the end they weren’t able to help her. Thingsgot so bad when they got here, she decided to leave him. But when she called shelters for help, she couldn’t find anyone who spoke Spanish. She eventually tried to leave by going to a neighbor, but he found her.”
Camilo put his hand over mine, his eyes grim. “That’s why you’re donating the money to our shelter, so we can help women like your aunt.”
I nodded and he squeezed my hand. “It’s a wonderful way to honor her. A lot of survivors will benefit from your kindness.”
I exhaled, feeling heavy from the conversation, but also like Camilo would be here with me for as long as I needed it. After a moment he leaned in and said, “Tell me about your family. Are they all still in the DR or just your parents?”
I smiled at him; grateful he was steering the conversation in another direction. “Yes, they’re all there pretty much. I think I’m the only Dominican without at least one relative in New York City.”
Camilo laughed at that. “I was wondering if you at least had one primo or something. My friend Nesto seems to have family all over New York State.”
I wondered if this Nesto was more than a friend, since he’d mentioned him a couple of times already.
I had to calm down.
“Not me. My brother came here for medical school, but he went back as soon as he was done. My parents and he come visit and I go back a few times a year, but they like it there; they won’t leave that island.” I smiled, thinking about my dad’s devotion to the “homeland of his heart.” “My dad never really had any interest in coming back to the States. He wasn’t very close to his parents, and he loves life in the DR.”
I lifted a shoulder before I spoke. “Family was always my mom’s side, and therewerea lot of them.” Camilo grinned at that. “My grandma lived with us, too, so the family always cametogether at our house. We always had a ton of people at our place.”
