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He smiled, which was all I wanted. “That’s my girl. Now get back to your date, or your mother will never forgive me.”
I rolled my eyes. Wasn’t that the truth.
Mamá did not drive after dark anymore due to her terrible night vision, so she took shotgun while Gia drove the van off the lawn and towards the hospital, leaving me and Isaac standing there to supposedly finish our date.
Chapter 8 - Isaac
Once Carmen’s family left, I wasn’t sure what the plan was. I certainly didn’t want Carmen to wish me gone. She had parked her car all the way up against the back fence under the carport in a way that indicated she planned to stay put. Meanwhile, my truck sat at the curb. So, I assumed we’d say our goodbyes here.
Carmen touched my arm. “I ate dinner before our date, but I’m hungry again. You?”
The answer would have been yes whether I had room for a bite of anything or not, and I think she knew that, based on her knowing smile.
“Yeah, I’m a little hungry.” I was already considering places close by that were still open, but Carmen walked towards the house.
She turned and looked at me. “Come on. It’s time for us to have that talk.”
A pang of apprehension hit me, but I pushed it away. This was what I’d been waiting for. And now, we wouldn’t be interrupted by tambourines or baristas or anything else.
Once inside, Carmen locked the front door behind us, picked up a remote from off the couch and turned off the TV that had been left on, and then led the way into the kitchen. The space was older, but from the looks of it, well taken care of and well loved. The scent of spices lingered. House plants climbed towards the big open window, bowls with onions and tomatillos sat by the stove, and vibrant colors were everywhere—in the tile at our feet, on the walls, and in the décor.
It was exactly the way I’d pictured Carmen’s childhood home looking, though I’d only seen glimpses of it back in the day when we used to video chat.
Carmen flipped the kitchen light off and opened the back door. “My place is out here. I just wanted to lock up everything in the main house.”
I followed her onto the back porch, taking in the sound of chickens softly crooning from their hen house and a mournful-sounding moo coming from somewhere off in the distance. “You live at home?”
“I livenearhome.” She jabbed a finger into my chest, daring me to contradict the importance of the distinction. “I rent the casita.”
“I didn’t mean it to sound judgmental. I’m just collecting facts about you.”
She eyed me suspiciously. “Why?”
“Because I like facts.” I smiled down at her until her expression softened into amused exasperation.
“You like facts,” she repeated.
“Yes. Did you know it’s impossible to lick your own elbow?”
She lifted her own jacket-covered elbow and examined it. “I think I knew that one.”
“And yet you still want to try, don’t you?”
“Of course.” She stared me down. “You go first.”
And just like that, we were back to being dumb kids.
The second I had my jacket off and I’d lifted my elbow, she flicked it, sending a tingling, shooting pain up my arm. “Did you know your funny bone is actually a nerve?” she asked, trying not to laugh.
“Well, I do now.” I reached for her and she ducked away, running towards her casita with me on her heels.
The back half of the backyard was lit up by overhanging white lights that crossed overhead like hundreds of tiny stars. I paused to stare, and Carmen followed my gaze. “We just had a New Year’s party.”
“Must have been some party.”
“Always.”
The throwaway comment hit me right in the chest. I could have been a part of this. We could have been lifelong friends.
