Chapter 5
Five
SOFIA
I’m keeping careful watch over the moro after Marlene taught me how quickly the rice and beans can become mushy.
After I turn down the heat on the gas stove, I stir the huge pot to keep the rice from sticking to the bottom of the pan.
Marlene taught me it’s a delicate balancing act.
I had to look up the meaning of that expression and learned it means to carefully manage two or more things.
Today, I’m managing the rice and beans and the attention of a man who makes my heart race when he looks at me the way he does.
Nico Giordino.
His sisters and cousin have warned me away from him.
Maria says he’s toxic with women. I had to look up the meaning of the word toxic, too. I found out that means his behavior would add negativity and upset to my life, which is the last thing I need after what I’ve gone through with Mateo’s father.
Speak of the devil… That’s another phrase I learned from Livia.
Anytime I hear something I don’t understand, I ask for the meaning.
Since the medical emergency that brought me to Dr. Jason Northrup and the Giordino family, I’m determined to learn as much English as I can.
While I was blessed with wonderful translators who helped me navigate the medical maze, I decided that I need a basic understanding of English, too.
Marlene, who committed to learning English after her first trip “home” to Cuba since the revolution made her realize that Miami is now her home, has been my partner in learning English.
While we will always be proud native Spanish speakers, we’re pleased with what we’ve learned so far at our ESL classes.
Back to the devil… He’s due any minute to deliver our son to me for Nochebuena and Christmas morning.
Joaquín Diaz was my childhood sweetheart, who somewhere along the way fell into the wrong crowd, got himself into trouble with drugs and petty crime and made my life a living hell for years with intense emotional abuse that later became physical.
I’ve finally broken free of him, thanks in no small part to Marlene and Livia, who heard about our plight when Mateo was sick, offered me a job with benefits and quite simply saved my life—and my son’s.
Thanks to them and a friend who’s a lawyer, I’ve filed for divorce and received a protective order that requires Joaquín to stay five hundred feet from me.
The only exception to the order is when we hand off our son between visits.
Sometimes I still can’t believe it’s come to a need for official protection from the man I loved for most of my life.
“Sofia,” Nico’s cousin Domenic says. “Someone’s asking for you outside.”
I experience a moment of pure joy at the thought of seeing my little boy that’s quickly followed by the dread of having to see his father. After washing my hands, I ask Dee to keep an eye on the moro for me and go out through the garage to greet my son.
He’s doing a lot better than he was, but he’s still got a long way to go in his recovery from brain surgery to remove a cancerous tumor.
Thankfully, Jason got it all, and he recommended a course of radiation that’s now completed.
But the damage to his fine motor skills, another English term that has become familiar to me, was significant, thus the ongoing physical and occupational therapy.
Nico pulls up in his father’s truck as I emerge from the garage into bright South Florida sunshine. Marlene sent him to pick up the keg from a nearby liquor store. He approaches Joaquín’s old red sedan, which is parked in the driveway. “I’ll take him,” he says to Joaquín.
I stand back and allow Nico to intervene on my behalf, not willing to admit what a relief it is to have him deal with Joaquín so I don’t have to.
“I need to speak to my wife,” Joaquín says in Spanish as he tightens his hold on Mateo.
“She’s not your wife any longer,” Nico reminds him, also in Spanish, as he reaches for my son.
“Back off, dude.”
I step forward before the two of them get physical. I wouldn’t put it past either of them. “It’s okay, Nico. I’ve got this.”
Glaring at Joaquín, Nico takes a step back but stays nearby. Just in case.
I take Mateo from Joaquín and hold him close. He smells like cigarette smoke, which enrages me. How can Joaquín smoke around him—or allow anyone else to—after what he’s been through? “What do you need?”
“I want you to come home for Christmas,” he says in Spanish. “Where you belong.”
“I’m sorry, that’s not possible,” I reply in English.
His scowl turns a face I once found handsome ugly. “You’re so fancy now, you can’t even speak your own language?”
“I’ll see you on the thirtieth.” I turn away from him to carry Mateo inside. He’s looking forward to swimming in Marlene’s pool before the party begins later this afternoon.
“Don’t take another step,” Nico says to Joaquín.
I continue on as if I didn’t hear that. I trust Nico to make sure Joaquín doesn’t follow us inside.
But the minute I’m safely in the house, I rush to the front window to look out to make sure the situation isn’t escalating.
Mateo snuggles into my embrace, seeming relieved, as he always is, to be back with me.
I cringe to think about what goes on when he’s alone with Joaquín, but the court requires one overnight a week with his father.
The two men are exchanging words, but that’s all it is.
After Joaquín makes an obscene gesture at him, Nico walks away, his fists rolled tightly by his sides.
My heart races at the sight of him, angry on my behalf.
Why does that mean so much to me? Maybe it’s because for years no one was ever angry on my behalf while Joaquín was bullying me into doing everything his way.
Nico comes to find me in Marlene’s dining room where the huge table is covered with serving dishes and other party items.
“Gracias,” I say to him. “Lo siento.” When I’m upset, I revert to my native language.
“Don’t thank me or apologize to me,” he says in a harsh tone that’s not directed at me.
How do I know that? I couldn’t say other than he has never been anything other than sweet to me, but Joaquín can make the sweetest person angry in a matter of seconds. I never saw that side of him until after we were married.
“I don’t like the way that guy acts as if you still belong to him.”
“He knows I don’t.”
Nico puts his hands on his hips, frustration apparent in his pose and expression. “Does he?”
“If he doesn’t, that’s not my fault. What else can I do besides file for divorce?”
“I hate the idea of you guys not being safe,” he says, softly so as not to alarm Mateo.
“We’re safe,” I say, but the waver in my voice tells the true story. I never feel truly safe except for when I’m at work, surrounded by people like him who care about me. And Nico doesn’t even work at Giordino’s. He’s just there a lot, especially when I’m working.
“I wish…” He stops himself and shakes his head.
“What do you wish?”
“We should talk about that sometime when we’re not surrounded by people during a holiday.”
My heart is beating so fast I wonder if I’m going to pass out, or something equally embarrassing, in front of the man who has become a close friend over the last few months. What does he want to talk about?
“I’m going to contact a friend of mine who’s a cop and ask him to send cars by here later, just in case your ex decides to come back and start trouble.”
I swallow hard at the thought of my ex-husband causing trouble for the family that’s been so good to us. “You really think that’s necessary?”
“I do.”
“Maybe Mateo and I should just go. If we’re not here, then no one will bother your family.”
“You’re safer here than you’d be anywhere else. The people here would kill for you.”
“Would they?”
“They would.”
“All of them, or just you?”
“All of them, but especially me.”
“And why is that?”
“That’s the thing we should maybe talk about when my entire family isn’t about to arrive for Nochebuena.”
The look he gives me when he says those words steals the breath from my lungs. Nico Giordino is the sexiest man on the planet, and I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise. Right in that moment, I don’t care that his own sisters and cousin think he’s toxic toward women.
I just want more of him and the way he makes me feel.