Inner Diva (14 page)

“
Si, hijo. Que es
? Mama faced him. She
had a haggard look about her, her movements slow, her eyelids
drooping. She’d worked a long day, too.

“English, Mama,” he reminded her in a gentle
voice. He reached over the table top and grasped Monica’s hand in
his. “Monica and I wanted to tell you … we’re dating.”

Mama leaned her hip against the stove,
momentarily silent. Carlos waited, glanced over at Monica. She
blinked. Then it started. A chuckle escaped from the older woman
and quickly accelerated to an all-out belly laugh. She leaned a
little at the waist, put a hand over her stomach and shook with
mirth.

Monica wore a wide-eyed, bewildered
expression. Carlos smiled his reassurance at her. He rose and
covered the few steps to his mother, then placed his hand on her
quivering shoulder. “That funny, Mama?”

Mama waved a hand in front of her face and
shook her head. “No, no. It’s not that.” She took a few deep
breaths and settled her breathing.

Carlos peered at her warily. She socked him
in the bicep. “Do you think this a surprise to me? That I didn’t
know?”

He shifted his gaze to Monica who was turning
a bright shade of red. Her eyes widened and her toe started tapping
under the table.

“I may be older, Carlos, but not that old.
And I’m not blind. My eyes can see the two of you together.” She
walked over to Monica and gave her a deep smile. “Monica. Not only
are you good for my Luisa, you are good for my Carlos too.” She
reached out and Monica gripped her hand, standing.

“Oh thank you, Senora Garcia. That means so
much.” Monica pulled the woman into an embrace and patted her on
the shoulder. “
Gracias
.”

Carlos watched them. Although he had told
Monica he was a grown man and didn’t need his mother’s permission
to date her, he knew his mother’s blessing was important to Monica.
Of course, he didn’t doubt that Mama would approve. That was a safe
bet if he ever saw one.

“Mama, we’re going out. Monica is going to
meet Thunderbolt tonight.”

Mrs. Garcia rolled her eyes. “
Ay, Dios
mio
.” She waved them away and pushed through the swinging door
to the living room.

Monica gave him a dubious look. “Thunderbolt?
Who’s that, a racehorse you have hidden in the garage?”

“Sort of. Come on.”

She followed him out the back door. He swung
the big garage door open and stepped into the darkness. “Hold on.”
He left her side and suddenly the little space was bathed in
florescent light. She blinked a few times, adjusting to the
brightness. She stepped over to where Carlos’s Gran Torino was
parked. She tried the passenger door, but it was locked.

“Not this time.”

She swung her head, locating him standing in
the far corner. He stood by a motorcycle. Not just any motorcycle.
He’d found this baby looking ignored and shabby from neglect, two
years ago. He bought it for pennies and showered TLC on it,
replacing parts, shining and buffing, painting and blow drying. The
custom painted golden thunderbolt on the shiny engine cover in
front of the seat marked his bike as his to all who knew him.

“Wow.” Monica’s voice barely passed a
whisper.

“What do you think?”

“It’s really something.”

He motioned her closer. “I did all the
renovations myself. It was really junky when I got it. It’s been
sort of a pet project over the last few years.”

Monica smiled at him, her eyes gleaming with
admiration. “Thanks for showing me this, Carlos.”

Carlos shook his head. “No,
carina
.
This isn’t what I wanted to show you. This is going to take us to
what I wanted to show you.”

Monica stared at him, her face stricken.
“What, we’re going to ride it?”

Carlos nodded.

“Isn’t it rather chilly? I didn’t think you
rode motorcycles this late in the season.”

“You’ll be warm. Don’t worry.” He held a hand
out to her, beckoning. He could see she was wary. Maybe even
frightened.

“I don’t know, Carlos. I’ve never ridden a
motorcycle before.” She eyed the bike.

“Perfect time to give it a try, eh?” He
grinned. “I promise you’ll be safe. You’ll wear a helmet and wrap
your arms around me.” He pounded his chest with his palms.

“Well, I guess. If you say so.”

He beamed and went to work fitting his second
helmet on her head.

Her first time on a motorcycle. Or, as her
mother would say if she knew, her first time on an insane deathtrap
speeding down the highway with no protection, other than a helmet
on her head. What was she thinking? Not for the first time, a
thought struck her, how different she and Carlos were. And how
willing she was to sample new experiences, feeling safe enough with
him to reach way outside her comfort zone. She shivered and held on
to Carlos tighter.

She had to admit that holding on to Carlos
from her position right behind him on the seat was a perk of
tempting fate. In the name of safety, she molded her body against
the back of his, clutching his waist and squeezing. If she was
going down, darn it, they were going down together.

She leaned so close to him as they rode that
the scent of the soap from his shower invaded her nostrils. Boy,
this man smelled good.

They rode for fifteen minutes and Monica saw
the multi-layer ribbons of highways passing above and below each
other – the bypass highways around St. Louis. Carlos selected the
road that led them straight into the heart of the city, the
magnificent Gateway Arch soaring up above them. She leaned her head
back with care to follow its sleek lines high into the sky. One
half of the Golden Arches, she’d called it when she was a kid.
Gateway to the West.

Carlos slowed the machine, adjusting to
in-city driving limits. To her surprise, he maneuvered the
motorcycle into the Arch parking lot, sitting on the banks of the
Mississippi River. Although a national wonder, it was a mainstay
for children growing up in the St. Louis area, as both she and
Carlos had. She tried to count how many times she’d been here, and
lost count after a half dozen.

He pulled into a parking space and pushed the
kickstand down with his foot. He squeezed her hands, still gripping
his abdomen.

“You get off first.”

She swung her leg over the machine and hopped
off on the left side. He followed.

“So? How was your first ride?”

She stood shivering, the cool November air
biting her ears now that she’d taken off her helmet. “I survived.”
She regretted her words when she saw a trace of disappointment in
his expression. “In fact,” she went on, “I enjoyed it.” And it was
true. She hadn’t just said it to please him. “It was exhilarating.”
Especially holding him tighter and tighter.

He took her hand and they walked toward the
Arch. Monica glanced around behind them. Their motorcycle was one
of only about five vehicles in the lot. “Are you sure the Arch is
open?”

Carlos shook his head. “It’s closed.”

“Then why…?”

“You’ll see.”

Okay, she was off on an unknown adventure
with her gorgeous man from a world so different from hers. She
would resist the effort to ask a million questions and go with the
flow.

Passing the Arch, they climbed a grassy
incline, then proceeded down the slope to the banks of the
Mississippi River. Cobblestone walkways crisscrossed through the
surrounding park area, known as Lacledes Landing. Further down,
Lacledes featured a gathering place of dining and entertainment
venues, but the walk between the Arch and the touristy waterfront
area was peaceful and scenic.

Walking along the pathway on the river’s
edge, hand in hand, Carlos turned to look at Monica. “So you were
talking to Luisa about her papa.”

Monica nodded. “She and I have that in
common, losing our fathers. Of course, it’s completely different.
She was an infant, and I was an adult. But I thought it was an
important topic to bring up with her.” She searched his eyes for
evidence of reaction. “You didn’t mind that I discussed that with
her, did you?”

He shook his head. “No, I guess it’s time. In
fact, I’m surprised it hasn’t come up before now. She’s been
without him her whole life, really.” They kept walking and Monica
pulled her coat collar up around her neck to cut the chill.

“You have a great way with her.” It wasn’t
the first time he’d told her that, but the duplication didn’t
reduce her pleasure in hearing it.

Carlos veered off the trail and led her off
to their left, away from the river. The lighting that illuminated
the pathway got further and further away as they walked. Darkness
began to grip them the further they roamed. “Carlos, where are we
going?” She tried to keep her anxiety out of her voice.

“Almost there.”

Soon, they stopped in front of a large tree,
its bare branches extending high above their heads. Monica glanced
at Carlos. He trailed his fingers across the bark in the darkness.
“Here.”

He dug in his jacket pocket till he withdrew
a flashlight. Turning it on, he shone it directly on a spot of
bark. He motioned to her. “Come over here.”

She stepped to the opposite side of the tree
and squinted at the bark, the steady stream of light allowing her
to see it. A carving of letters, two on top, two on bottom. Many
winters and rains had softened the sharp indentations until the
letters appeared a natural part of the tree. She ran her fingers
across the carvings.

“RG. CG.” She looked up at him. “Are
these…?”

Carlos stared at the tree, absorbed. “My
brother and I.”

Monica caught her breath. “CG – that’s you.
And RG – what was your brother’s name again?”

“Ricardo.” Carlos pulled his gaze away and
looked at Monica. “He and I carved those initials almost twenty
years ago.”

“Twenty!”

Carlos nodded. “We were here on a family
outing. I was eight, he was ten. Mama had brought a picnic lunch
and we were done eating. So while Mama and Papa were finishing up,
Ricardo and I ran around this whole area.” He motioned to the
surrounding hilly park area and a phantom of a smile crossed his
lips in remembrance of that long ago day.

“Before I knew it, Ricardo had stopped over
by this tree. I went over too, wondering what he was up to. He
pulled a pocketknife out of his pocket, and he made the first
incision. I worried because I knew Papa would probably be mad about
us defacing public property. He was a very responsible citizen, my
papa. But I idolized my big brother. I didn’t want to seem like a
wimp. So I watched him carve ‘RG’ and then I held my hand out for
the knife, and I carved ‘CG’ right beneath his.”

Monica turned back to the initials with new
interest. A commemoration of brothers. A tribute to the simple love
shared between two young boys on a carefree summer day.

“Ricardo was the age Luisa is now,” she
murmured. She ran her fingers over the letters, now wrought with
meaning. “They’re still here, after all this time.”

“Every time we came here after that day,
Ricardo and I would run over and check them. We never told our
parents. It was sort of our secret.”

Carlos turned away and took a step, bathing
the tree in sudden darkness. Monica joined him. “Since Ricardo
died, I come here whenever I want to think about him. Remember some
of our times together, what we meant to each other.” He put his arm
around her and pulled her against his side. “Sentimental, I
know.”

She squeezed him around the waist. “You’re
keeping Ricardo’s memory and his place in your family alive each
time you come here.”

Carlos nodded. “I hardly ever go to the
cemetery. I don’t like the tombstone, or surrounding myself with
death and sadness when I remember my brother. Here, it’s different.
It’s …” he looked around the grounds, “…happy. Families together,
kids running around, sunshine, laughter. That’s how I choose to
remember him.”

Monica smiled. So Carlos had a sentimental
side. The man never ceased to amaze her with the parts of himself
he chose to share with her. “Thank you for taking me here.”

“No problem.” He turned and shone the light
on the tree for the last time. He covered the short distance and
patted the initials with his hand.
“Hasta la vista,
hermano.”

Then, Carlos holding the flashlight on the
ground in front of them, they walked back to the motorcycle.

The following Saturday, Monica took Luisa to
the Children’s Science Museum downtown, one of the best of its kind
in the country, right there in St. Louis. Luisa was enthralled with
the place, and Monica listened to her chatter about her discoveries
all the way home.

She pulled her car into their driveway and
saw Carlos’s car in the garage. He’d been at work when she’d
arrived that morning. He must’ve wrapped up for the day. As she got
out of her car, he opened the front door and walked toward her.

“Hi. You got some free time?”

She shook her head. “No, unfortunately, I
don’t. My niece Mae is turning one and Barbie and Rick are throwing
a gala party for the family.”

“Want company?”

Monica stared. “Are you kidding?”

Carlos shrugged one nonchalant shoulder. “Why
not? You’ve met my whole family. I’ve met Barbie, Mae and Spencer.
I’m only missing your mother.”

Monica coughed.

“Besides,” he continued, “Barbie gave me
instructions the last time I saw her and I can report back to her
on my progress.”

She had to laugh at his mischievous
expression. “Report notwithstanding, you need to come to your
senses. I can’t think of anyone who has actually volunteered to
meet my mother. You know, willingly.”

“You don’t get along with her?” He gave her a
curious look.

“Uh, I get along with her because I make the
effort. She’s, how shall I say? Difficult. Yes.”