Chapter 42
Marco
“ I ced Americano for Marco,” calls the barista from the end of the counter.
I push myself from the edge of the wall I’ve been perched on for the past few minutes and retrieve my drink from the dark wood countertop. I take a long sip, much needed from another sleepless night. I hold the drink away and look at it, impressed.
“Good, right?” asks the barista.
“Very. Best in the city that I’ve tried so far.”
I’ve been trying out a few different coffee shops ever since I had to give up my last one after my celebratory romp with the redhead barista there. I haven’t been back since. It was fun, but I’m not looking to do it again, especially now that Erica is back in my life. Or could be.
“Glad to hear it,” says the barista.
He’s a younger guy, probably early twenties. I look to his nametag. It reads Josh.
“How long have you been working here?”
“A few years now. I work part-time now that I’m working towards my teaching certificate.”
“Teacher?” I ask, impressed that’s the route he wants to go. Most people stray away from the profession these days, focused on a bigger paycheck.
“Mhmm,” he says, turning to make another order for a waiting customer.
“Good for you. My mother was a teacher when I was growing up,” I say. “She said it was the most rewarding job she’d ever had.”
“It is. Just being in the classroom now, earning my hours and experience, I swear these kids teach me something new every day. Not the other way around.”
I nod, seeing how passionate he is about it.
It’s a rare thing to be passionate about the actual job and not the dollar signs it earns you.
I wonder sometimes if I’ve lost sight of the job after all the deals I’ve made and the financial accolades I’ve received.
I pull a couple of twenties from my wallet and slide it across the counter, so he can’t miss it, before slipping out the side door.
I make a mental note to come back here, for the excellent coffee and to give my money to someone who deserves it.
Speaking with him just now reminds me to call my mother. I forgot to call her yesterday, which is usually when we catch up. I slide my phone from my pocket and scroll to her name, pressing the call button.
“Marco,” she answers, and I can hear the smile in her voice.
“Hola, Mama,” I say, returning the smile even though she can’t see me.
“How are you? I missed you yesterday.”
“I know. I’m sorry. So much on my mind.”
“Work okay?” she asks worriedly.
“Yes. Work is fine.”
“You work too hard, you know that?”
“I’m fine,” I assure her.
“Mhmm,” she says unconvinced.
She’s always questioning when enough will be enough for me.
As proud of me as she is, she doesn’t understand why I need more companies in my portfolio.
I can’t very well explain that I’m trying to fill the void that my father left.
Even after he’s been gone for years, I still find ways to impress him. An impossible task, dead or alive.
“What’s on the agenda today?” I ask, walking down the sidewalk toward my building. It’s a few blocks away, but I don’t mind the walk. It’s a beautiful morning.
“Volunteering at the library again. Oh, I’ve joined a book club too.”
“And I’m the one who works too much,” I say jokingly.
“This isn’t work, Marco. They’re hobbies.”
“I know, Mama. I’m just teasing.”
I’m truly happy that she’s found this second life after everything with my father.
I know how dead inside that relationship left her, but she never tried to leave.
She stuck it out until the end, even when I tried to convince her not to.
She said that was marriage. You stick it out.
I had always hoped it wasn’t because of me that she stayed with him, but I think it just came down to her values and how she was raised.
Now that he’s gone and she’s retired from teaching, she has found a new independence.
A new lust for life that includes trying anything and everything.
If it weren’t for her heart attack last year, I wouldn’t be so worried about her.
I try to remind myself it’s only book club or playing bridge.
It’s not like she’s taken up skydiving, though I wouldn’t put it past her.
“What’s on your mind, Marco?” she asks, going back to the start of our conversation.
“Just life. Trying to figure it out.”
“Hmmmm,” she says curiously.
“Don’t worry about it. Or me. Please.”
I know I want to tell her everything eventually, but not now.
Not when I don’t know what is going to happen with Josie and Erica.
Finding out she’s a grandmother would probably mend her heart, but having that taken away would cause more damage.
I want to be sure about everything before I tell my mother anything.
“Okay, mijito,” she says hesitantly.
“I better go. I’m just getting to work.” I look up at the tall building that sprawls upward to the nearly cloudless blue sky.
“Have a good day. Let’s do dinner this week?”
“Yes. I’m taking you to a new place, one where you can get dressed up.”
“You know I’m okay with tamales.”
“I know, Mama. But let me treat you. Please.”
“Okay, Marco. Te amo.”
“Te amo.” I hang up the phone and walk into the building.
I greet the front desk and security as I pass, but when I get in the elevators, I find myself pressing the button for the daycare floor.
It’s like something instinctual inside me made me do it, and soon I’m looking through the glass walls of the daycare.
I spot Josie immediately, as if something calls to me.
She’s crawling on the floor, chasing a big bounce ball.
Suddenly, she stops and sits up, her eyes moving to the glass and finding mine through it.
I suck in a breath. Her face erupts into that big smile of hers and I find my own lips curling upward.
She starts crawling toward the wall that separates us, and I know I can’t leave now without saying anything.
I make my way toward the door, wondering if this is okay to do.
Erica didn’t invite me here, but I’ve missed Josie.
The past two days of not seeing her have been torture.
I was disappointed when Erica never called me back after our awkward conversation on Saturday night.
I was hoping we could get together again, but maybe I’m asking for too much too soon. I can’t help it.
I open the glass door to the daycare and am greeted warmly by the staff.
I awkwardly tell them I came by to see how things were going, lying about how it’s my midyear assessment.
I’ve never done any kind of assessment in all the years the daycare has been here, but they know better than to question me.
I walk through the small gate and remove my shoes as usual, and begin walking the floor.
Josie immediately squeals when she sees me and holds her hands up for me to pick her up.
I look around hesitantly, wondering if it’s a good idea to give into her demands.
She’s Erica’s daughter, not mine, at least to everyone on the outside.
Then again, I am Erica’s boss and we were just in here on Friday night.
I decide better of it and simply sit on the floor beside her, rolling the big pink ball toward her and her pushing it back.
She, at one point, climbs on the ball, belly down, and rolls herself around until she tumbles off in a heap of giggles.
I can’t contain the laughter that erupts from me, causing the daycare staff to look over.
Most are smiling like it’s the cutest thing they’ve ever seen.
Others are more curious. I try to ignore their gazes.
I clear my throat and tell Josie goodbye, resisting the urge to hug her like I want to.
She seems confused to why I don’t, but I just give her a little wave before walking around the rest of the daycare, pretending to look for something that makes me look busy.
Josie trails me the entire time, making it hard to leave.
I thank the staff and tell them I will be doing another assessment soon. Tomorrow is my plan, but they don’t know that. It’s best they’re on their toes as if it were a true assessment. I give Josie one last fond look before heading out the door and going upstairs to start the workday.
But it’s hard to work. It’s hard to focus on anything besides Josie who is just a few dozen floors below me.
I keep checking my phone to see if Erica calls or texts, but she never does.
She did say we could talk later about getting together again, I just didn’t think she meant after a few days’ time.
I’m starting to think she doesn’t want to, and I feel helpless knowing there’s not much I can do.
If I push too hard, it might scare her off, and I don’t want that.
I don’t want to lose Josie, but I also don’t want to lose her.
It’s like I have to walk on eggshells around the situation because I know how nervous Erica is about this whole thing.
I just don’t know what else I can do to prove to her that I want to be a part of Josie’s life.
But I only want it if she does. I would never want to force my way into their lives, no matter how unfair it was that I never had the choice to be in it.
The next day, I start my morning the same way, stopping by the same coffee shop and doing my fake assessment of the daycare.
I walk the floor, inspecting the shelves and the hinges on the gates, as if I have any business to be doing so.
The CEO and owner of the building doesn’t do things like this, yet here I am pretending I do.
Before I leave, I spend a little time with Josie, who has been trailing me the entire time I’ve been walking the floor.
She lit up when she saw me walk in this morning.
Every loving glance she gives me assures me that I’m meant to be in her life.
If only her mother could see that. If only her mother could look at me like that.
Josie brings over a book and pulls my pant leg adamantly.
“Well, hello,” I say, pretending I haven’t noticed her behind me.
“Mah-cooooo,” she coos, looking up at me through those long lashes.
I chuckle and find a seat on the floor. She climbs on my lap and settles in comfortably.
I hold my breath, knowing this probably is raising some brows.
Of course, the staff asks no questions, but I can see a few of them are exchanging glances like something is up.
I wonder if it’s a wise idea to be here, especially when one of their children seems so strangely comfortable with me.
I try to remind myself, it’s because I’m Erica’s boss, not because she shares a strong resemblance to me.
Anyone would be a fool not to see it, so I really hope everyone on this staff are gigantic fools.
Once I’ve finished reading the book, I say a reluctant goodbye to Josie and thank the staff.
I know I can’t keep coming in here with these “assessments,” and that my excuses for being here are probably running out.
I thank the staff again, and on the way out I think about how I can find more time with Josie.
I know I have to talk to Erica again. She probably won’t appreciate that I’ve been in the daycare twice now without her knowing.