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He stole a drink of his coffee, cold at this point, but then the guy behind the counter came over and filled him up.
Ramses grinned. “Thanks, Charlie.”
He passed a bill Charlie’s way. Not quite a hundred but way more than the dollar and a half that brew had cost him.
“I have no idea how I didn’t know you were Evelyn’s son.” I uncapped my water, taking a drink. “She’s very generous too.”
Not to mention, he looked quite a bit like her. They had the same smile and same eyes, despite the color. There was that other part, though.
I tilted my head. “Where is your dad from? Well, I guess I mean his heritage.”
I, too, had a few in there: Mexican, Puerto Rican, and a myriad of others that made me tick quite a few checks on the European spectrum in addition. I sort of knew the breakdown since I did one of those cheek swab things about a year ago. I didn’t do much with it after that, since I started getting notifications about distant family members wanting to connect with me. One of them had been one of my high school teachers and that had just been friggin’ weird.
Ramses hadn’t said anything after my question, adjusting himself in his seat. He angled his neck back and forth before popping his fingers and I wondered if I said something.
“He’s Syrian.” Gruff, rigid before he took another sip of coffee. He put his cup out. “You? You said at dinner those tamales were your mom’s recipe so…”
“Mexican. She is and some Puerto Rican. Dad is Caucasian. A bunch of stuff there. Though the breakdown is a little unclear.”
He seemed to stop listening to me at this point and that so didn’t seem like him.
I tilted my head. “Ramses?”
“Yep?” He jerked his attention in my direction, and I laughed.
“You okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Another stiff drink of his coffee. He pulled it down. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” I spun my half empty water bottle on the table, catching it with my fingers. “So how about some truth? What? You don’t talk with your dad?”
I knew his parents were divorced from Evie. Not much more than that, though. I didn’t know if he lived in town or whatever. I assumed he did since their family’s businesses were here.
“I do not.” He said this with a smile, but it was false and didn’t reach his brown eyes at all. “Not in over four years, and as far as I’m concerned, not long enough time has passed.”
Ouch, and definitely, not like him. “Ram—”
“He’s in prison, Brielle,” he said, and my eyes twitched wide. He frowned. “You didn’t know that? Mom didn’t tell you… that?”
She hadn’t, just that she was divorced. I shook my head.
“Damn.” A shake to his head before he looked at me. He lifted his hand from his cup. “Sorry.”
“No. I didn’t know.”
“Even still, I shouldn’t have bit your head off.” He drew fingers down his face, and I finally noticed how tired he looked. He had a darkness under his eyes I definitely hadn’t noticed in my office.
I guess I hadn’t been looking for it.
I’d been too busy trying to shove him out of my life once again. I eased forward. “Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” His laugh was dry before he gazed down at me. “But I guess that’s why I probably should have been at Coping with Change tonight.”
And here I thought it was whatever his issue was at Brown.
Or maybe they were one and the same.
Wow.
