“And wasn’t he? Isn’t Fabi the proof?”
She punched me in the arm. “You know what I mean. They were afraid that he would knock me up and we’d have to get married.”
“So you waited to get knocked up until after you had a ring on your finger.”
“Manny.”
I shook my head. “What was the problem? You found a nice Cuban guy with prospects. He got himself a good job; you moved only a few blocks away; you gave them a beautiful granddaughter. If this guy is as good for Beatriz as Hernan has been for you, they’ll be happy.”
“Are you really Cuban?” she asked me. “Where is your sense of drama?”
I laughed. “I know how to create drama. Right now I want to eat.” I stood up and walked into the house, Del behind me. Mami, Papi, and my grandparents were all sitting in the living room. Beatriz and her boyfriend were perched on the edge of the sofa, a carefully defined distance between them.
Everyone stopped speaking as I walked in. Del continued out to the backyard, where I figured Hernan was hiding out with Fabi.
“And this is our son, Manuel,” my father said. “Manuel, this is Jesus.”
He stood and offered me his hand. At first glance, he was exactly as Del had described—quiet and polite. He was a bit older than Beatriz—I guessed him at nineteen or twenty. He had a narrow face, with a dark mustache and goatee, and looked like an El Greco saint with his soulful eyes.
“Well,” Mami said, standing up. “We can have dinner now.”
Usually we spent at least an hour or two in family conversation before we ate, but it looked like everyone was happy to get to the table. We sat at our regular seats, but Beatriz scooted over, and Hernan brought in another folding chair, so Jesus could squeeze in between her and Abuela.
The meal was remarkably subdued for one in our household. Hardly a raised voice, and only polite topics of conversation. We avoided religion and politics, which didn’t leave us much to talk about. Papi discovered that Jesus was a big Miami Marlins fan, as he was, and they talked about players and trades. Mami chattered about the meal, fishing for compliments as usual. Every now and then Del would catch my eye, and we shared raised eyebrows over something someone said.
After the meal, Del, Hernan, and I went out back with Fabiola. Del put the baby in a bouncy swing and said, “What did you think?”
“He seems perfectly nice,” I said. “Remember when Beatriz was going through her Goth period? We kept expecting her to bring home some guy with black eyeliner and multiple piercings.”
“That might have been better. This one is some kind of alien.”
“Maria del Carmen,” Hernan said, in an uncanny imitation of Mami. “Can’t you be happy for your sister?”
“Why? What gives her the right to be happy?”
I decided things might be easier inside. “I need some
café con leche
. You guys?”
“We’re fine,” Del said, speaking for her husband as well.
I knew enough not to get involved with whatever was going on between them. I went back in the house.
Punch List
Midmorning on Monday, Walter’s friends showed up at the site, and when I walked into the trailer, I asked Estefani, “No meeting today?”
“He hasn’t cancelled,” she said. “I’ve been collecting orders from the guys.”
“I’ll have the chicken sandwich,” I said. “Side salad, though. No fries.”
“You’re not going on a diet, are you, Manny?” she asked as she wrote my order down on her yellow legal pad.
“If you can pinch more than an inch,” I said, squeezing the bit of fat at my waistline. I had always been a slim guy—not skinny like Larry, but not fat enough to shop in the husky section. I wasn’t interested in starving myself, but I wanted to make sure I didn’t pork up, either.
We all assembled in the conference room at noon, but Walter remained closed in his office with his friends, and Estefani didn’t want to disturb him. “As long as we’re all here,” Adrian said. “Let’s run through what’s happening. Manny, you take notes, and fill Walter in when he’s finished with his meeting.”
I wasn’t thrilled to become a secretary, but I did appreciate Adrian’s faith that I could transmit the information clearly to Walter. I hardly had a chance to eat, because I was busy scribbling down the status of each trade. As soon as everyone had reported, they all scrambled to get out, carrying their food with them.
I was left in the conference room, eating and trying to make sense of my notes. I heard Walter’s voice as he said good-bye to his friends, and then he stepped into the conference room. “Estefani ordered your usual,” I said, pointing to the Styrofoam container in the center of the table. “I had to protect it for you, though. You know how ravenous the guys get.”
“It’s good to know you’re looking out for me,” Walter said, and he grinned. He filled a paper cup with cold water from the cooler and sat down across from me. I pushed his lunch container to him—a grilled chicken breast over white rice, with black beans and plantains on the side. He ate the same thing almost every day.
“I hated to miss the meeting, but I needed to have that conversation,” he said.
“Everything all right?”
He shrugged. “Hard to say. That friend I met on Friday night? He was giving me a heads-up. There’s some shit going down with the bank that has my construction loan. The friend of mine who arranged things, Sal, is worried they’ll get nailed for improper lending practices, and wanted to make sure I’d stand up for him.”
“Improper how?” I asked.
“Different standards for different borrowers,” he said. “You been reading the papers about the mortgage lenders accused of discriminating against African American borrowers?”
“I don’t read the paper. Mostly I just listen to the radio while I’m driving.”
He shook his head. “Manny, if you want to succeed in this business, you’ve got to know what’s going on in the world. Banking, employment statistics, environmental studies—all those things have an impact on construction. If you don’t have the information, you can’t make the right decisions.”
He speared his chicken and sliced into it. “Speaking of information. What happened in the meeting?”
I went through my notes with him as he ate. He nodded a lot, asked a question or two, then pushed the Styrofoam container away. “Good job, Manny. Maybe I don’t need to go to those meetings after all.”
“Oh, no,” I said. “We need you there.”
He laughed. “None of us are irreplaceable. I learned that a long time ago.” He clapped his arm around my shoulder, and I could smell the faintest hint of his cologne. “Though you’re doing your best to show me I need you around—in many ways.”
I went back to my office, glowing with Walter’s praise. I worked on the punch list for the rest of the day, making double and triple sure that I had done everything I needed to. I went outside to check a couple of last things when Walter went for his run—in the morning I wanted to be able to tell Adrian that everything was finished.
As I walked back to the trailer, I realized that the rest of the site was empty, with only my car and Walter’s remaining in the lot. I was hoping for some special time with him, but when I saw him crossing the parking lot in his T-shirt and electric-yellow shorts I realized he was limping.
“What happened?”
“Stumbled over a ditch,” he said. “Stupid. Think I twisted my ankle.”
“I sprained my ankle in gym class in high school,” I said. “Did you know there are twenty-six bones in your foot?”
“I didn’t.”
I stepped up to the trailer door and opened it. “Sit down at Estefani’s desk, and I’ll take a look.” As he limped over there, I said, “One way to check whether you have a sprain or a break is once you’re sitting down. Put your feet flat on the floor. Now, does your ankle still hurt?”
He nodded.
“Okay, now stretch your injured ankle in all directions, but carefully. If it hurts in any direction, you’ve got a mild to severe sprain.”
He gritted his teeth, and I could see he was in pain.
“All right, there’s definitely something wrong,” I said. “Can you wiggle your toes?”
“A little.”
I knelt down and carefully untied his running shoe. My head was right at groin level, and I could see his dick was still hard, the skimpy fabric stretched taut across it. Walter didn’t wear anything under his shorts when he ran.
I slipped his shoe off, and he groaned. I rolled his sock down carefully. I remembered talking to Gavin about sucking toes, and resisted the urge to take a taste of Walter’s.
“I’m going to massage your foot. Tell me if it hurts.”
“You don’t have to do all this,” he said.
“No arguments.” I slowly and firmly massaged his foot from top to bottom. He yelped when I touched his ankle, and I said, “You need to go to the hospital. Come on, I’ll drive you over there.”
“I can get myself there.” He stood up and once again winced in pain.
“You can’t do anything except sit next to me and try to be a good patient,” I said. “Here, put your arm around my shoulders.”
He hopped on his good foot, with me holding on to him. The sexual charge I got from being close to him was so strong I was afraid I’d come in my shorts, but I managed to focus on moving him, and we got down the steps to the parking lot.
I saw the office keys in his pocket and, without even thinking, reached in to grab them as he leaned against the trailer wall. He shivered as my hand snaked into his pocket, and my fingertips grazed the tip of his dick as I pulled the keys out.
Walter was red as an apple, and I was scared he’d pass out. But he said, “I’m going to need my wallet. It’s in my desk drawer.”
“I’ll get it.”
I left him there, dashed back into the trailer, and retrieved his wallet. I locked the trailer door and helped him hobble to my car. “What hospital?” I asked.
“Baptist, I guess,” he said. “My place isn’t far from there.”
I backed out of my spot and drove carefully down the rough road to the street, trying not to jar Walter too much.
“This is really nice of you,” he said.
“No big deal. I’ve done the ER route a couple of times with frat brothers.”
“I admire you, Manny,” he said as I drove. “Having the courage to be who you are.”
“I didn’t realize there was an option,” I said lightly, even though my heart was pounding and my mouth was dry.
“Sure there is. If you’re like me, you hide who you are from everybody, even from yourself. You get married because it seems like the thing to do. You put all your energy into work so you don’t notice how miserable you are.” He shifted in his seat and groaned.
“Almost there,” I said. “I’m sure they’ll get you fixed right up.”
I pulled up in front of the emergency room.
“Thanks, Manny. I can take it from here.”
“No way,” I said. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
I went into the ER and spotted a wheelchair. “Can I borrow this to bring a patient in?” I asked the clerk.
“I’ll get you a nurse,” he said.
I nodded and pushed the chair back outside. Walter had the car door open and had swung himself around. I set the brakes on the chair and helped him stand up. A male nurse came out and said, “You can park in the garage over there.”
“You don’t have to stay, Manny,” Walter said.
“I’m staying, Walter. I’ll be there as soon as I park.”
I found a spot in the garage, and before I locked up the car, I grabbed the book I was reading from the backseat. By the time I got inside, Walter had given his ID to the clerk, and the nurse was about to wheel him into a treatment room. “Can I come with him?” I asked.
“Sure,” the nurse said. “Follow me.”
I helped lift Walter up onto the hospital bed. The nurse raised the foot of the bed to elevate Walter’s ankle, then took his vital signs. “I’ll be back with some ice, and the doctor will be in as soon as she can,” he said.
“What are you reading?” Walter asked, nodding toward the book I was carrying.
“A mystery,” I said, holding it up.
“Can I see it?”
I handed it to him. “Hawaii, huh?” he asked as he read the blurb on the back. “You ever been there?”
“No. Sounds a lot like Miami, though.”
“It is. Very beautiful. I went there on my honeymoon.”
The curtain parted and the doctor came in. She was Indian and probably only a few years older than I was. She inspected Walter’s ankle and pronounced that he had a severe sprain. “We’ll immobilize it with a splint,” she said. “Keep pressure off it for at least a week. When your foot isn’t elevated, keep a compression bandage on. Alternate that with ice for fifteen or twenty minutes. I’ll give you something for the pain. If it doesn’t ease up after twenty-four hours, come back and see us, or call your regular physician.”
“I feel like such a wimp,” Walter said after the doctor had gone. “I could have gone home and taken care of this myself.”
“It’s your right ankle, Walter,” I said. “How exactly were you going to drive home?”
“Call a cab. Which I can do from here.”
“I’m taking you home. I’ll make sure you’re set up.”
“That’s not a good idea,” he said.
Before I could argue with him, the nurse appeared with the wheelchair. “Here are the pills the doctor prescribed. Stop at the desk on your way out to settle up.”
We put Walter back in the chair, and I pushed him out to the checkout desk. Walter handed over a credit card, signed for the charges, and I pushed him toward the ER door.
“Manny, really. You don’t need to do this. They can call me a cab.”
“Shut up already, Walter,” I said. “Oops. Sorry. Didn’t mean to be rude.”
He mimed zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key, and I laughed.
I helped him into the car, then returned the chair to the ER. “Directions?” I asked when I got back in the car. “I’ve only been to your place that once.”
“Out Kendall Drive, then make a left.”
For the second time in two weeks, I drove to Walter’s townhouse.
I parked in his driveway, and helped him out of the car and around to the front door. “I’ll be all right from here,” he said.
“Where’s your bedroom?” I asked as the door swung open. “Second floor?”
“Yeah, but—”
“No buts. I’m going to see you in bed. And if Dolores’s private eye is snooping around, all he’ll see is me helping you get settled.”