He gave a weary sigh as he wrapped his arms around my waist.
“You do the most sometimes, Tom Hughes, but I’ll be damned if I can stay pissed at you.”
I grinned at him and then followed him to our seats, thinking about our plans for the rest of the night. The show would be over around nine and I’d made a nine-thirty reservation at a place in Little Italy in the Bronx close to Dinorah’s apartment where we could have a late dinner. I turned to Camilo who had joined the conversation between his mom and the couple next to us.
“You guys are still up for a late dinner, right?”
He looked inquiringly at his mom who nodded. “Yes, that way we can get a chance to talk.”
I smiled at how happy she looked. “Great, I’m looking forward to it.”
Camilo had so much of his mother in his face, his eyes an exact copy of hers. He looked at her with such tenderness, too.
He was such a good son, such a good man.
Soon the lights in the theater were turned down, and immediately we felt a buzz build around the room. It was a packed house and the anticipation for the show was palpable. After a moment, the band stepped out and we could see the trio of backup singers also getting in place. The cheering as they set up was already deafening. But when the tall, lanky man in histrademark beard and fedora walked out onstage and got in front of the microphone, every person in the theater was on their feet at once, yelling at the top of their lungs.
Without much of a preamble, the first notes of a fast and furious merengue sounded across the theater. Accordion, percussions, and every instrument on the stage fired off at once and the entire place lost it. Within seconds we were all dancing and singing along. I looked over at Camilo and his mom and saw they were both swaying to the music with huge smiles on their faces.
By the fourth or fifth song, the aisles were packed with people dancing. I turned to Camilo and winked at him, cupping my hand around my mouth so I could talk to him over the music.
“Los Dominicanos no juegan, Camilo.”
He laughed at my suggestive tone. “I know you fuckers don’t play. Get ready Thomas Caonabo, because Dinorah is looking like she wants to step out onto that aisle with you.”
I didn’t hesitate and extended my hand to her as the first notes of “Visa Para un Sueño” sounded around the theater.
Visa for a dream.A song about people risking everything to come to the States to make their dreams come true, just like Dinorah and I had done. She and I got to the aisle by our seats and danced with the other couples who were singing and moving as Juan Luis serenaded us. This theater could have been lit with a match just from the energy in the room.
I noticed Camilo glancing at Dinorah and me dancing. Dinorah blew him a kiss as we spun around, and he threw his head back laughing.
Suddenly, what I felt for Camilo slammed against me like a brick wall. The way that his eyes followed Dinorah and me as we danced. The softness there I knew only a precious few ever got to see, directed at me.
I felt so in love with him in that moment. I never wanted to let this man go.
chapter nineteen
camilo
The show had been amazing. The music, the crowd, everything had been complete magic. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen my mother so happy. Granted Tom had pissed me off by getting tickets I knew must have cost him over a thousand bucks a piece without asking, but it was hard to stay mad when what he’d done made my mom’s whole year.
We were waiting for the valet service outside the theater to bring Tom’s SUV around, and the plan was to eat at a restaurant on Arthur Avenue where he’d reserved a table. I hoped he hadn’t done anything over the top. But it seemed that was the theme for the evening.
Once we were on the road, my mom immediately started gushing about the show.
“Juan Luis was so good and I can’t believe how much we danced.” She cackled. “Only Latinos can get away with that. I’m glad the show was at United Palace. We wouldn’t be able to do that in Carnegie Hall.” Tom and I both laughed at how giddy she sounded.
I teased Tom, who was focused on driving. “I don’t know about that, Mama. Dominicans would at least try.”
He nodded with a smug smile on his face. “I know that’s right.”
From behind, my mom piped up. “Cubans, too. We can’t stay sitting when there’s good music playing.” She sounded so damn happy. I saw her lean in from the back seat, her face turned toward Tom. “Thanks again for the amazing tickets, Tom. This has been one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time.”
Tom gave me one of those looks that made my heart want to jump out of my chest before answering. “It’s been a great night for me, too, Dinorah. Thank you both so much for inviting me.”
He reached for my hand, and I took it without hesitation.
We chatted about the songs and how great the band sounded as we drove the fifteen minutes to the restaurant. Before I knew it, Tom was pulling up to a place I’d never been to before. My mom, on the other hand was cooing in the backseat, apparently impressed with the location. I’d grown up pretty close to Arthur Avenue so we ate here all the time. Most of those places were family-owned and low-key, but this restaurant looked high-end. I didn’t even know you could do valet parking here.
