Inner Diva (13 page)

Luisa nodded, unable to form words past her
full mouth. Carlos nudged Luisa’s shoulder and shared some murmured
Spanish words. Luisa swallowed her mouthful. “Thank you, Barbie.
I’d like to come visit.”

Barbie shifted Mae to one hip and reached out
a hand to Carlos. “And it was so nice to meet you too, Carlos.” She
held on to his hand, then pulled him closer, and to Monica’s
horror, she whispered something into his ear. He nodded, smiled and
gave a thumbs up, while Monica turned red from her hairline to the
base of her neck.

As Barbie and the kids headed back to their
table, Mae wailed, “Auntie Mon! Mon!”

But Monica couldn’t worry about Mae’s temper
tantrum at the moment. She had to find out what Barbie had
embarrassed her with. She knew it had to be embarrassing, or why
had she whispered it?

“Okay, fess up.” They sat back down and
resumed tackling their ice cream.

He gave her an innocent, eyebrows-up
look.

“You know very well what I mean. What did my
sister say to you?”

He shrugged and stuck another huge spoonful
in his mouth. Monica could tell, despite the ice cream, he was
stifling a smile. Carlos swallowed. “She said I should take good
care of you.”

Monica sighed. That could be embarrassing on
any number of levels.

“Considering she wouldn’t let the children
hear, I have to wonder how she intends for me to do it.”

Monica ducked her head and concentrated on a
maraschino cherry.

He lowered his voice. “Or just how good she
wants me to be for you.”

Monica gasped and felt her cheeks burn, an
odd sensation, considering her mouth was so cold.

Carlos did a “pssst” to get her attention.
She looked up and he grinned at her. She couldn’t help smiling
back. He reached over and placed a hand over hers while they
finished their treats. A moment later, Luisa placed her free hand
over theirs.

When Monica arrived home that night, her
Caller ID light was blinking. She pressed the button; her mother.
She pressed it again; her mother. She pressed four or five times,
all her mother. All in the last hour.

There must be an emergency.

Yet, she had just seen Barbie. If there had
been a family emergency, surely Barbie would’ve told her.

Unless…

Barbie had called Mom and told her about
running into Monica … of course.

Monica debated and decided against calling
her mother back. Instead, she got undressed and washed her makeup
off her face before the phone rang again. Drying her face with a
towel, she trotted out to the living room where her Caller ID
machine sat. Her mother again. Could she ignore the ringing phone,
knowing it was her persistent ma on the other end? If she ignored
it this time, Mom would only call her again.

“Hello, Mom.”

“Monica? How did you …? Oh, that blasted
machine. I swear I can’t get used to people knowing I’m calling
before they pick up the phone.”

Monica rolled her eyes.

“Anyway, what were you doing tonight?”

If she waited long enough, she was sure her
mother would tell her exactly what she had done tonight. At least
the portion Barbie knew about.

She didn’t have to wait long. “Were you out
with that little girl and her …?”

Irritated, Monica interrupted, “That little
girl, Mom? Try her name. Luisa. I’ve told you the child’s name, and
I don’t think it would be too much for you to remember it.”

She instantly regretted her retort when her
mother gave her something she hardly ever gave her … a moment of
silence.

“Mom, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have blown up at
you. It’s been a long day and it’s late.”

“Barbie said Luisa’s older brother was with
you.” Monica heard her mother sniff.

“Yes, Carlos.”

“But the brother – Carlos – isn’t a child, is
he?”

Monica laughed. “No, not by a long shot.”
Then she clapped her hand over her mouth. She really must start
thinking before she spoke.

“He’s a man, isn’t he?” her mother
persisted.

“Yes, Mom.” And how.

“Monica, do you really think it’s a good idea
to socialize with him?”

Monica let the question hang there just a
moment longer than Mom was comfortable with, because she forged on.
“I mean, isn’t there something in your contract that says you
shouldn’t fraternize with the family members?”

Monica silently counted to ten. “No, Mom. I
don’t have a contract, to begin with.”

Her mother decided to change tacts. “You
know, you hurt their feelings, seeing you there with another
child.”

“Who? Whose feelings did I hurt?”

“Spencer’s and Mae’s.”

Monica shook her head, although her mother
couldn’t see it. “That’s not true, Mom. Spencer seemed happy about
Barbie’s idea to have Luisa over to play. And let’s face it, Mae is
almost one. Everything hurts her feelings, if the situation is
right.”

“Barbie said Mae cried.”

Monica sighed. “Yes, because she wanted me to
hold her and play with her. Not because she saw me with another
child. Mom, this is … this is ridiculous. I’m going to hang up now,
and I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

Her mother didn’t say anything.

“Mom?”

“Huh?”

“I’m hanging up, okay? I’m tired. I’ll talk
to you tomorrow.”

“Good night, dear.”

Monica hung up and shook her head. What had
Barbie told Mom? And when would they ever adjust to her having a
life of her own, and people in it who didn’t involve them?

Chapter Eight

A few nights later, Monica sat in the
Garcia’s living room, listening to Luisa read her library book
aloud. The science fiction novel chronicled a world where talking
dogs were the ruling race and cats were servants. Luisa giggled at
parts, so much that Monica had a hard time following the storyline.
But the sound of her laughter was more gratifying than following
the exact wording of the story, and Monica caught the gist of the
unusual plot, regardless.

When she finished the chapter, Luisa set the
book aside. “Want popcorn?”

Monica nodded and headed for the kitchen.
Luisa watched her place the bag of kernels in the microwave and
push a button. When the timer rang, Luisa carefully pulled the bag
out, opened it and poured it into two bowls. They took them to the
table and sat down.

“How was school today?”

“Great.” Luisa licked fake butter from her
fingertips. “We watched a movie about a boy in colonial times whose
father was killed in the Revolutionary War, and he was forced to go
to work to support his family. He’s only ten.”

“Wow. That would be tough.” Monica tossed a
handful of popcorn in her mouth.

They ate in silence for a few moments. “My
daddy died, too, just like the boy’s father in the movie.”

Monica stopped and looked over at the little
girl. Luisa stared into her bowl, as if mesmerized. “I know,
sweetie. Carlos told me.”

“But I didn’t have to go to work.” Luisa
smiled.

“You were only a baby, weren’t you?”

Luisa giggled. “Yeah.”

“And your mom and Carlos take good care of
you, don’t they?”

“Yep.” She went back to her popcorn with
gusto. The moment had passed, but Monica recognized the opportunity
for an important conversation.

“Luisa, what do you think about losing your
daddy?”

Luisa shrugged. “I never knew him. Most of my
friends have daddies, though. When I play at my friend Anita’s
house, her daddy is always nice to me.”

Their snack finished, they carried their
empty bowls to the sink and returned to the living room. Luisa sat
next to Monica on the couch. “I lost my dad too, Luisa.”

Luisa gave her a surprised, eyebrows raised
look. “When? How?”

Monica smoothed Luisa’s dark hair. “About
five years ago. He had a heart attack and died right there at home.
My mom was heartbroken. They’d been together a long, long
time.”

Luisa studied her with interest. “How old
were you?”

“I was just finishing up college – I was 22.
I didn’t live with them anymore, and I was an adult, but it was
still very hard for me.”

Luisa traced a light line running through the
leg of Monica’s blue jeans with her finger. “What was he like?”

Monica smiled as she conjured up a visual of
her dad’s face. “Very funny. Easy-going. He was the perfect father
for two daughters. Nothing ever bothered him. Total opposite of my
mom.”

Ooops, had she said that part out loud?

“I wonder what my daddy was like.” Her tone
was curious.

“Have you ever asked your mom? Or
Carlos?”

Luisa shook her head.

“Well, when you think you’re ready, ask one
of them about your daddy. I bet they’d be glad to tell you stories
about him, show you pictures. Maybe they even have videos. They’re
probably waiting till they think you’re ready.”

Luisa’s face developed a serious expression.
She sat quietly, thinking. “Did you love your daddy?”

Monica felt a hint of unbidden tears behind
her eyes. Even after five years, the loss was still painful. “I
sure did, sweetie.”

Luisa raised her head and gazed at Monica. “I
bet I loved my daddy, too.”

Monica pulled Luisa into an embrace. The
front door opened and Carlos stepped in. His face looked worn, the
work of a long day paying its toll on his expression. But when he
saw the two of them, he brightened.

“What have we here?”

Luisa pulled from Monica and ran to her
brother, her enthusiastic hug oblivious to the grease and sweat on
him. “Guess what, Carlos! Monica’s daddy died, just like ours. And
she thinks I’m ready to hear about our daddy, and see pictures.
Will you and Mama show me and tell me stories about him?”

His sudden shocked expression as he met her
gaze caused some unwanted laughter to bubble from her. Luisa’s head
swiveled to look back at her. “Right, Monica? That’s what you said,
right?”

Monica stood and took a step toward them.
“Yes, I did suggest to Luisa that if she thought she was ready to
learn more about her daddy, she should talk to you and your mom
about it.” She gave him a look that she hoped expressed her apology
in case her revelation was not welcome.

“
O-o-kay. Yeah, good
idea.”
He snuck a quick peek at his sister. “Not right now
though, right?”

“No, silly. Later, when Mama comes home.”

Carlos looked visibly relieved.

“Did you know Monica’s daddy died, too?”
Luisa demanded.

Carlos looked stricken for a moment. “No. I
don’t think I knew that.”

“Well, it’s true, and that gives us something
in common, right Monica?”

Monica nodded. “Absolutely.” She gave Luisa a
smile of pure joy. Was it possible to love the little girl even
more? Their bond grew ever stronger the more time they spent
together. Turning to Carlos, she said, “You look tired.”

He shook his head and shrugged out of his
jacket. “I’ll be fine once I take a shower.”

“Long day?”

He nodded. “See you in a bit. You’ll still be
around?”

Like she would miss holding him close when
he’d freshly emerged from a shower. “Uh huh.”

Carlos stood in the shower, letting the water
flow over his head and shoulders, washing away the sweat and grime
of the day. Steam rose off his body, making the air moist and
thick. He turned into the flow, eyes shut tight, grimacing as the
hot jets hit his face. When he had his fill, he soaped up his
washcloth and scrubbed at his fingernails.

Just because he worked with oil and grease
didn’t mean he wanted to wear remnants of it at the end of every
day.

As he soaped and rinsed his hair, his
thoughts roamed to the conversation Luisa had met him with at the
front door. So, it was time to talk to Luisa about her papa. Of
course, he knew the day would come eventually. He just wasn’t
expecting it today.

He smirked, marveling, not for the first
time, over the rapport Monica shared with his little sis. Dead
fathers? Who could predict that Monica would choose that topic to
get into with Luisa? Yet, she seemed to have a sixth sense about
Luisa. The little girl blossomed under her mentorship and
attention.

Finishing up, he dried off, dressed and
shaved. He became aware of a small stab of regret that he didn’t
know that Monica had also lost her father. He longed to know more
about this woman who was stealing his heart, little by little. He
wanted to learn about her past, and if he were honest with himself,
he had to admit that he wanted to share more about himself with
her. More than he usually shared with the parade of women who
passed through his life.

He thought back on the wasted week he’d spent
fretting over what Monica must have thought of him when he’d
revealed so much emotional trash from his past. Most of the women
he’d been with would’ve thought him weak for talking so much about
his feelings. Not Monica. She’d put him at ease over his
revelations. She wanted honesty. It hadn’t even occurred to her to
consider him weak.

He walked down the hall. Three female voices,
not just two, alerted him that Mama had arrived home. He greeted
his mother with a quick kiss on the cheek. Pulling Monica aside, he
said, “Do you have to get home right away?” It was only about
eight.

“No, not at all.”

He smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that. I
have something I want to show you.”

“Great.”

“But first, I think it’s time we told Mama.
About us.”

Her expression tightened, her eyebrows
scrunched in concern. What was she afraid of? Why would she
possibly think Mama wouldn’t approve?

“I suppose you’re right.” She took a deep
breath and he watched her chest heave. He chuckled and led her to
the kitchen.

“Mama.” He sat at the table and motioned for
Monica to take another chair. “We want to talk to you.”