Alejandro (7 page)

“Understanding where you’re coming from doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.”

“If you’re not enjoying yourself, then do what you have to do. It’s your choice.”

Though her yearning to glimpse this Latin man’s biceps and jawline and lips and the windows to his soul was strong, she could not bring herself to end their dialogue over a photo. There was a chance, a possibility, that he was a good man.

He was so interesting. His voice was delicious. He had a bunch of opportunities to brag and toot his own horn, but instead he remained humble. His wisdom, his humor, his priorities, and his kindness just made her feel valued as a woman. Safe, even. How could that be? She had yet to meet him!

Either this could go terribly wrong, or unimaginably right. Veronica had to find out, either way. Her heart was already attached to the voice coming through her phone.

Veronica massaged the skin over her heart. “I want to give this a chance.”

He sounded relieved to hear her words. “Then let’s keep going,
Bella
. I want to know about what makes you happy, what makes you mad, what makes you cry. All those things.”

She hung her head, timid. “Okay.” She could hear him shift around on his hotel bed, and she imagined he was resting against the headboard with one long pajama-clad leg crossed over the other, an expensive cell phone dwarfed by his large golden hand as he cradled it against his ear, following her every word. “I was born, raised, and educated in Southern California,” she begun.

Veronica was the youngest child in a poor dysfunctional family, led by an alcoholic lounge singer and a philandering verbally abusive sax player. Her older sister and brother went AWOL as soon as they could, leaving her alone in the war zone. Her home life taught her to love music and appreciate the little things, but also left a chasm in her heart for a dependable male figure, and a determination to get a steady paycheck. Life at school was slightly better than life at home for Veronica. Between getting picked on by classmates because of her size, and struggling to pass her classes due to an undiagnosed case of mild dyslexia, she couldn’t catch a moment of peace. Until she snagged her first boyfriend sophomore year; an asshole in shining armor whose house was her sanctuary. Ever since, she’d been a serial monogamist, giving her all to each boyfriend she had, staying with them for years, determined to make each relationship work even when she should’ve cut her losses. In the end, not one of those men desired to make her his wife. “I thought I’d be someone’s wife by now.”

“I want to be a husband,” said Alejandro. “My father and grandfather are both good men who adore their wives. There is no respect like that of a woman. A man who has the respect of other men is praised but left to his own devices by those men. A man who has the respect of women is praised, honored, loved, and catered to. To be in a woman’s heart is a blessing. She adds years to a man’s lifespan. That’s a scientific fact. A good woman, anyway.”

“You’re right. I never thought of myself that way.”

“Well you should. You women have all the power,” he laughed.  

“I like the sound of that. Do you mind if I get that etched onto a plaque, just in case we were to get into an argument in the future?”

“I look forward to fighting with you.”

Veronica frowned. “I heard enough of that from my parents. I’d rather not repeat history.”

“Not nasty fights. I’m talkin’ about the arguments that happen between two people who want the best for one another. When I was a kid I thought my parents were insane. They bicker and fuss, and then a few minutes later they’re hugging and kissing!”

“That sounds so cute! It makes me think of Ricky Ricardo and Lucy.”

“I’m the son of Desi Arnaz. Nice.” They laughed. “Okay. Let me tell you about my life. It isn’t quite like
I Love Lucy
.”  

Born out of wedlock but never made to feel less than by his stepmother, his father, or anyone, Alejandro grew up in a close-knit family with three younger sisters, a younger brother, and countless aunts, uncles and cousins from all sides. His happiest childhood memories were being at his
abuelo
’s house at the age of six, playing dominos with him while they both chewed on Cuban cigars. It wasn’t until he was in middle school that he realized he was different; a lovechild, swarthier than his siblings, and ill. He was diagnosed with type-1 diabetes at age fifteen, shattering his dream of one day becoming a United States Marine, but it caused him to mentally mature quicker than his buddies who had nothing other than short skirts to think about.

The men in his family were expected to stand on their own two feet, so Alejandro was held responsible for paying for his own things. He never received an allowance or any help getting his first car, and there was no college tuition fund set aside for him. Upon graduation from high school he was accepted to a university on a tennis scholarship and later earned a master’s degree in business administration. In graduate school he met his—now ex—fiancée and fell hard. After a wonderful year together, he proposed to her in the same theme park they shared they’re first kiss. The couple’s work ethic resulted in an endless engagement. Soon his fiancée began to complain that he worked too much, but she in fact worked long hours as well as an emergency room nurse. Month after month passed by with neither of them budging to make a compromise on their work schedules nor setting a date for the wedding.

Alejandro—after being counseled by his family—faced the fact that his fiancée didn’t love him enough to make any sacrifices for the sake of their relationship, and that all the things they’d discussed creating and building together was just talk. There was no special place in her heart for being his wife and a mother to his children. Why the hell did she say yes to him? Why did she string him along, pretending to be what he wanted? “You have a good job and we’d make pretty babies together. My mother would’ve never let me hear the end of it if I had refused you,” was her answer.

A string of relationships with untrustworthy, selfish, money hungry, lying, manipulative women followed. Disappointment after disappointment led him to bachelorhood for the past three and a half years, until a few months ago when his biological mother begged on her deathbed that he find a good woman to make plump little
niños
with so that a piece of her would live on.  

“I’m sorry about your mother.”

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat.

“I understand why you are the way you are, and why you’re doing this,” Veronica said. “You come from a tight family. A wife is not just the woman you love and honor, but a woman who will be accepted into your family’s midst, so she has to be someone you can trust. Someone who is a good person in general, not just good to you for her own benefit.”

“Exactly. Wow. You, uh, you spoke my thoughts and my feelings better than I could. Wow. I’m smiling so hard right now.”

Veronica giggled.

“I understand how you are, too,
nena
.”

A tingle of vulnerability spread outward from her breastbone. “Really?” She chewed at her bottom lip.

“Yes. I know you’re tired. You need a man that you don’t have to chase, one that will chase you, call you, listen to you, help you, encourage you, spoil you and love you from the top of your pretty head to the tips of your orange painted toenails.”

Nearly speechless, she laughed. “They’re actually painted pink right now.”

“I think you’re someone who would appreciate my crazy parents, my chatty sisters and my silly
tías
. They’d love you.”     

“
Gracias
. I know that’s a big compliment for you to give.”

“It’s very easy to compliment you, Veronica. Did you call me on your cell phone?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’ve got your number then. I’m afraid I’ll have to end our conversation now so that I can get some sleep. Thank you for spending time with me tonight.”

“I look forward to our next rendezvous,” she joked.

He chuckled. “Tomorrow night?”

“I’d like that.”

“Goodnight, Veronica,
bella
,
nena
,
mamacita
,” he teased.

Happily, she sighed, “Goodnight,
papi
.”

Six

It was like being a rat trapped in a motor-powered hamster wheel. A flat-footed rat with throbbing knees and heavy bazoombas. Veronica swiped the mist of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand and trudged on in her orange and white active wear, knowing from recent experience that she’d feel great after this workout. “God, if he’s ugly I’mma kill myself,” she whined.   

Her older sister Patience managed a snort in between her huffing and puffing as she trekked the treadmill to Veronica’s right. “Looks like you’re killin’ yourself already.”

“Shut up. We’re both out of shape.”

The short wine-red hair poking out from her black bandana was matted to her dripping forehead. “There’s nothing wrong with my shape, Nica. Dudes get into fender benders ‘cause they can’t help eyeing my jelly. It’s just my cholesterol that needs changing.”

“Sure.” She looked her sister’s spandex outfit up and down. “That neon green thing you stole from Pepa’s storage unit needs changing too,” she snickered.

“Bitch, fuck you and your fake South American internet boyfriend.”  

“He’s not fake! I haven’t seen a picture of him yet, but he’s real. Very real. With a sexy ass voice. And he benches 220. And Puerto Rico and Cuba are Caribbean countries. Duh!”

“That’s what I said. The Caribbean is south of America, so he’s South American.”

Veronica laughed, panted, then laughed some more. Mirrored walls reflected her and her sister’s image back at them. Patience was five years older but six inches shorter and seventy pounds heavier than her younger sister. Contrary to her name, she had a short fuse, with sixteen traffic violations and two divorces to show for it. Once Veronica learned not to take everything her older sister said too personally and not to be judgmental, their tenuous relationship became solid.   

“When are you going to meet that man in person?”

Her shoulders fell slightly. “Uh...We’ve talked to each other every day for the past two months. There hasn’t been any official date set for us to meet, but I’m sure it will be soon. I’m not worried. It’s better not to rush into anything, right?”

“Hmm.”

“No?”

“I mean, shit, why drag it out? If he’s ugly, which is what I suspect, I don’t see the point of waiting months and months to confirm my suspicions. Either he’s ugly or he doesn’t plan on meeting you at all.”

“He wants to meet me but he’s out of town most of the time. He was in Sacramento last week but he was here on business so he didn’t have time to meet me before he flew off to the next city.”

“Hmm.”

“Stop doin’ that! Even though he’s busy, he wishes me good morning every day and sweet dreams every night, and we text throughout the day.”

“Hmm―”

“Dammit, Patience!”

“Chill! I was gonna say, if a man’s day starts with you and ends with you, that’s love.”

“Oh.” She blushed. “I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like he does. But is that possible? I don’t know. Maybe.”

“When are you gonna meet him so that you can find out what’s
really
going on?”

The timer on Veronica’s treadmill signaled the conveyor belt to gently slow to a stop. “Soon.”

***

           Bruised and battered, Luke toppled from the sweltering exit bay of the blue glowing mothership, plummeted eight feet through the midnight air, and collided with the compacted soil in the shadowy wheat field. Blinded by the intense lights on the spaceship and the dust swirling up from the ground, he squinted up at the retreating ship and screamed for his trapped brother. “JC! Nooo!” he roared. But the craft zipped away into the stars and Luke was left in darkness.

          Veronica gaped at the television as the screen went black and credits started rolling. “What?!” She flung herself sideways on the couch, holding the cell phone to her ear as she lay on her back.

“Whoa. That was crazy,” Alejandro muttered through the phone.

“This is some bull!” Veronica stomped her feet against the armrest, a mini adult tantrum. “I can’t wait three months to find out what happens to JC!”

“The writers for UnEarthly are
bastards
for doing this to us.”

Laughter burst from Veronica’s mouth. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Hey, don’t try to make me look like I’m the only crazy fan here. You were thinking it.”

“Okay, I admit, I wondered very briefly if it were possible to look up their addresses. Just so I can offer them a tip or two.”

“The tip of your shoe up their asses?”

She faked a gasp. “I would never do such a thing.” She put on a British accent. “I’m a lady. A lady of class and sophistication. Violence is a crutch for the mentally undeveloped. Animals, men, etcetera, etcetera.”

“
Verdad?
Violence is for animals and men? Yesterday you told me you were gonna kick an elderly woman’s ass into next week.”

“Okay, first of all...How could you call me out like that? Second of all, she keeps letting her poodle take shits on my lawn! I can only take so much poodle doo before threats begin to formulate in my mind. Despite yesterday’s rant, I do not actually intend to transport her into the future with a swift kick of my left foot. Okay?” She teased him. “Are you scared of me?”

“Yes. I know about girls like you.”

Veronica grinned. He never pronounced the T at the end of the word ‘about’.
I love that ‘a-bough’ him.
“What kinda girl am I?”

“I’ve seen the movie Waiting to Exhale.”

“Hahaha! I’ve never destroyed a guy’s property over a breakup. I’m the nicest, punkest ex-girlfriend ever. Quincy was throwing dishes and breaking lamps when I kicked him out and stupid me let him get away with it.”

There was a pause. “
He
was breaking dishes?
Qué diablo
...?”