Four
FOUR
Orlando
T he sizzle of the onions and garlic made my stomach grumble after my hours with my mentees. As soon as I arrived home, I went straight to the kitchen, pulled out Mom’s paila, and started cooking dinner.
Without even having to peek into her bedroom, the scent of incense and loud mystical music blaring told me she was having one of her days. The grumble in my stomach morphed into unease. Would she take the time to come out and eat tonight? Having no other option, I focused on the rice and peas in the pot, steering the creamy coconut water until the bubbles prompted me to lower the fire. Chicken thighs went into the mixture of garlic, onions, and other seasonings. Maybe the scent would break her out of her episode.
Food is how she took care of us when she could, teaching me all the meals she learned from her mother, who grew up in Roatán, and her dad’s favorite Bayan dishes. Food is how I attempted to take care of her now that things had changed. With anxiety settling in my stomach, I pressed Rewind on the day, focusing on the highlights instead.
When I decided to join the mentorship program my old school organized, my main consideration was how well it would look on my law school application. Low-key, I was also yearning to connect with someone the way I wished I could connect with my younger brothers.
My mentorship program with Brandon and Brian became one of the highlights of my week. The kids were bright, not the most studious, but each had their individual interests that showcased their critical thinking and hunger for knowledge, which was fine.
Brandon was fascinated with anything that had an engine and could spend hours talking about videos he’d watched on the matter. He sometimes mentioned one of the boys he had a crush on, but he was very aloof about his sexuality overall, so I never pressed him in that area. Brian was more on his damn, girls are fine moment, but my mans had figured out a creative way to focus that attention. Women sports. He was a damn near expert on all the WNBA key players’ stats, and don’t get him started about soccer.
Each of them showed the potential to be great at whatever they wanted to be if someone took the time to guide their enthusiasm to open doors to discover opportunities. That’s all I’d ever wanted, so when Mr. Thompson reached out to me about the mentorship program, I knew this would be a good fit for me.
What I hadn’t been expecting was Trinidad Velasquez. I don’t know how dudes have types. I mean, I get it; we all have things we look for in the person we like, but for me, it had to be more than looks. Honestly, all types of women were my preference: small, tall, short, plump, you name it. If the vibe was right, I was open to exploring where the attraction could lead me.
When I met Trinidad the first time, I hadn’t been ready. The boys had talked about their mother as this perpetually tired, staid workaholic that somehow managed to be kinda cool when she tried.
Instead, a thick bombshell strutted down the pavement, her hair in locs, coils burning mahogany brown under the sun. The flower dress she wore spoke of afternoons by a bar on the bay with cocktails.
She reached her hand out, and maybe I moaned a little bit because she smirked.
“Hello, Orlando, the boys told me you were twenty-five but I could have been fooled to believe you were a little older,” she said, then set me at ease with her smile.
Damn. The twins hadn’t prepared me for anything. They hadn’t even hinted at how gorgeous their mother was.
No hint of her beauty, or how her mouth quirked up when she was trying to hold back laughter.
“Yeah, I get that a lot. I am way more mature than my age.” Whatever my vocal cords did, it sounded mad goofy to my ears. Placing extra depth on my words had been an instinctual action. There was nothing but to go with it. I hadn’t met a woman that made me this nervous and excited in like ever.
Damn, how could the twins not warn me? Give me a little heads-up at least?
Nah, they didn’t say shit. No mention of her dry sense of humor and how she tried to hide it and act all proper around me. No thought to warn me of the impact on my solar plexus when we first shook hands outside of the basketball court.
“Oh, I bet you think that.” Trinidad smirked again, her hand still in mine. I still remember the warmth radiating from the spot where she laid her palm on mine. It stayed with me for hours after seeing her. I lay down that day still surrounded by thoughts of Trinidad Velasquez. I cheesed all the way home, and till bed. Nose wide open from a few inconsequential words.
And before I could think twice, I jacked off to the thought of her lips around my dick, while I moaned “Ms. V, your mouth is magical,” over and over again.
Trinidad had lived in my head ever since. She had me simping the minute I met her.
She had the type of body I used to draw back in school when trying to make my classes go faster. Soft, brown-skinned, big-hipped, big-assed anime heroines with midlength locs, big expressive eyes, and mischievous smiles. And there she was, Trinidad, one of my anime heroines come to life.
But the light in my heroine’s eyes didn’t live in Trinidad. My chest contracted when I first realized that. I was convinced Trinidad needed an adventure. Something to jog her out of the everyday bustle. Something like what I was searching for in Ofele Town.
In the first few meetings with her, I did too much, talking and boasting about my job and my friends and well…sounding exactly like a twenty-five-year-old. Trinidad seemed unimpressed, and why wouldn’t she?
After several meetings I finally got her age from the twins. At ten years my senior, and with two children and a divorce, she’d seen plenty of life and had shouldered many responsibilities. Maybe if I’d share that side with her…nah. It was fun having a crush when everything else weighed me down. When the responsibilities of my day-to-day felt like my best personal deadlift record over and over again. Getting heavier by the minute. I had no shot with Trinidad, and worse than that, I didn’t think she liked me that much.
Trinidad Velasquez was a guilty pleasure and as unreachable as my dreams of pursuing a career in creative arts instead of law school. My paycheck was a biweekly reminder of that. And here I was supposed to be cheering myself up.
“Damn, arroz con guandules again? And chicken? Can’t you cook something else?” Camilo complained as he and Marcelo trampled their way into the apartment.
“It’s not arroz con guandules, it’s red peas. And take off your trainers. Neither of you helps to clean the apartment, but when it’s time to mess it up…” My two brothers had grown as tall as me in the past year. Marcelo was a couple of inches shorter than Camilo, and he couldn’t wait to join Camilo at Stony Brook this fall.
“Same shit, listen, Imma take Celo to a party tonight,” Camilo said, plopping down on the large sofa in our flower-splashed living room. Mom had interesting taste in decor.
“I thought the three of us were gonna play video games tonight?” I did a good job keeping the disappointment out of my voice. Eighteen and twenty were interesting years in a man’s life. Transition from school to college or work, moving into the world with a larger sense of belonging and responsibility. Or maybe that was my experience because these two acted like they were still teenagers. I didn’t have time to be as immature. At their age I was parenting them. Camilo and Marcelo had benefited from having an older brother. Just plain old luck that they got to act like overgrown children and I never did.
“Yeah, but there is this girl and…” Celo started explaining as I stirred the chicken, the aroma of the seasonings permeating the little living room and kitchen.
“You know you cannot drink, right?” I asked them both, looking up from the paila, refusing to let them see my disappointment.
They both looked back with bored expressions. Whoever broke first would lose the battle of wills. So I kept my gaze steady until Celo blinked first. Camilo kissed his teeth and waived my concerns away. Parenting brothers was a pain in the ass.
Now that my Friday had gone truly to the whole trash, I needed to pivot. Maybe I could hit up my friends, or if Trinidad gave the boys permission, maybe I could play video games with them. Brandon and Brian had been unable to contain their excitement when I told them about my Friday night plans. See, my cheerful thoughts had worked and presented an opportunity.
“Why are you smiling like a you won the lotto?” Camilo asked.
“Why are you minding business that ain’t yours?” I asked back.
“It’s that lady, the mom of the boys he goes to play ball with.” Celo explained that he’d met Trinidad a couple of times when he had joined me for a game of two against two with the twins.
“The one you said has a huge juicy a—”
“Camilo, what if that was your mother?” I asked, silently agreeing with the adjectives he used to describe Trinidad’s ass. But I wasn’t about to discuss Trinidad with them. She was a lady and older, and they had to show respect. My memories of Pa were scarce, but that advice I remember always. Respect women.
“Celo was the one who told me about it.” Camilo pointed at Celo, who leaned against the kitchen counter to watch me chop tomatoes, cucumbers, and radishes—greens. Mom needed greens, and these two probably didn’t eat a lick of vegetables unless I put them in front of them.
Celo shrugged and grinned. His expression said it all.
“Fine. Abandon me to your party—the party that you are going to and not drinking at ’cause I’m not leaving Mom alone to bail anyone out of jail. A’ight?”
Two sets of heads nodded solemnly.
Solemnly my ass.
“And remember the two of you promised to watch out for Ma while I travel to Ofele Town in two weeks, okay?”
“Oh damn, that’s in two weeks? ’Cause there is this day party that I want to go to.”
I wasn’t a violent man nor prone to anger, but damn if I didn’t want to throw a couple of punches right now. Preferably at Milo. He was second in command and balked at the responsibility. Everything about home weighing on my shoulders would have been easily managed if each of us played our part. We could, the three of us, divide responsibilities for taking care of Mom, but that would require me telling them some ugly truths about themselves.
Their selfishness… But that shit would only cause another rift between us, and we couldn’t afford that.
“Y’all gonna watch her, or do I have to ask someone else?”
“Nah, we’ll watch Ma…” Celo nodded, looking toward her room. We all stared at the closed door.
The hunger that propelled me to cook a meal for my family fled quicker than my poise disappeared around Trinidad.
Cheerful thoughts.
Ofele Town had never looked better.