19
NICO
Pain in my ass: Are you accompanying me to next weekend's game in Cali?
Me: I think I’m going to take a break from traveling. I could use some time to just chill.
Pain in my ass: But mi Reina, you can visit your family. We aren’t too far from their town, and I can set aside some tickets for you all.
Me: I’m sorry. Did I give you the impression that I miss or want to see my family?
Pain in my ass: Well…don’t you?
Me: There’s a reason why I live three states away.
Pain in my ass: Have they done something to you? Did someone hurt you? Tell me and I’ll beat them into the ground. With your permission, of course.
Me: No. Nothing like that. They’re just a bit intrusive.
My mom and sisters think I need to find a husband and are constantly implying what a disappointment I am since I’m not already married and knocked up.
I don’t need to be reminded of that. My mother’s weekly text with available men in the greater Los Angeles area are plenty.
Pain in my ass: Mi tesoro. You won’t have to worry about that this time. I’ll be there. Your handsome, charming and talented boyfriend.
Me: *Fake boyfriend*. They will drill you with questions, then start measuring you for a tux. I promise, you don’t want that.
Pain in my ass: Bring on the 20 questions. And I’ll have my measurements done so they won’t have to worry about it. Besides, don’t they know about me already? I mean, we’re all over the tabloids and internet.
Me: No, they don’t. I haven’t told them and they don’t involve themselves in my profession. It’s not something they support. And no one in my family watches football, so they won’t know who you are or that we’re “dating”.
Pain in my ass: Well I think we should change that. Please come with me?
Me: No.
Pain in my ass: Pleeeease.
Me: What’s that?
Pain in my ass: Puppy dog eyes. Did it work?
Me: No.
Pain in my ass: Would it change your mind if I told you Chase is going to ask Lucy to go?
Me: Traitor
Pain in my ass: We’ll barely even see one another. I have a Saturday night curfew and we leave right after the game. Basically it’s dinner and a kiss at the game.
Me: No kissing.
Pain in my ass: Lots of kissing. Please come. I have another surprise for you.
Me: Stop with the gifts.
Pain in my ass: Never. I’ll tell Chase to buy Lucy a ticket on the same flight as you. Friday night okay?
Me: Gosh you’ re annoying.
Pain in my ass: You kill me with your kind words. See you Monday night for our home game. Wear something sexy.
Me: I’ll wear a paper bag.
I drop my head, banging it on my desk with a huge sigh. This is the part of the act that I was hoping to avoid. And though Nic’s family has been informed of our “relationship”, I was hoping to get out of this scot free without my family ever being aware.
How foolish am I.
My nails rap on the cool surface, literally drumming up the courage to make the phone call that is sure to ruin my entire day. Possibly week.
I pop an earbud, open my phone and hover a trembling finger over her name. “ Quit being a little bitch, ” I mutter, giving myself a quick pep talk. I don’t do the you can do this, stay positive shit. I treat everything as a transaction, only taking and putting in what I need.
The phone begins ringing in my ear and I leave my phone resting on my desk as I stand and begin pacing my office. My heels click against the tile and fade when I stop in front of the large windows, staring out onto the city that feels more like home than my actual home ever did.
“Hola,” a voice greets. “?Valentina?”
My eyes blink and I clear my throat, somewhat relieved that it’s my dad who answers. “Hola Papá. ?Cómo estás?”
“Bueno, hermosa. Te extrano, mija.” My Papá’s tone is thick with emotion and it brings on a lump in my throat.
“I miss you too, Papá. How are you feeling? Alba told me you were sick last week.” I do admit that I am distant and somewhat guarded when it comes to emotions and relationships –intimate and friendly– but the health and happiness of my parents is the one thing that gets me to crack.
So when Alba called, saying Papá was taken to the hospital because he had passed out, my immediate thought was of him with tears in his eyes the last time I visited.
He hugged me a little tighter and kissed my cheek a little longer.
It felt like our last goodbye, but I knew it was because my visits are so few and far between, and never long enough for them.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Esmerelda and Alba are so warm and friendly and couldn’t imagine living more than a couple hours away from our parents.
But that family is everything gene skipped right over me.
It’s as if all my wires didn’t get connected, leaving loose ends –and feelings– hanging in the void.
“Estoy bien, Valentina. You know I don’t drink enough water, and I was just dehydrated. I guess spending so much time in my garden wasn’t a good idea.”
“Papá. Menos cerveza y más agua.” He enjoys a cold beer every now and then, but I love jabbing him. “Alba said you hit your head, so I don’t call that fine.”
“Mi hija. Sí, pero es solo un pequeno corte.”
“A small cut is still a cut. With your medication, you must be more careful. Promise me you’ll take care of yourself? Take breaks and drink water.” I emphasize my words to make my point stick.
“Promento.” He promises and I push away my fears.
“?Dónde está Mamá?” It’s time to get this over with so I can return to my day and try to salvage what is left after she lays into me.
“Aquí. Esparar.” He brings the receiver to his chest and shouts, “Paloma,” forgetting that the sound is amplified.
My parents still own a phone that plugs into the wall and doesn’t have a speaker. So when she approaches and says hello, I can practically see the two of them with their heads pressed together, straining to hear me on the other end.
“Hola, Mamá.”
“Vaya. Is this my long lost daughter? The one who doesn’t care about her family.”
“Mamá. That is not true. I’m just busy, that’s all.” And here we go. “But I’ll be in Los Angeles this weekend. I was hoping to spend a night or two with you before I leave.”
“Por supuesto, mi hija. Of course.You can always stay with us. Oh I’m so happy. Maybe Vicenté can ask his friend to join us for dinner one night. You know, he’s very handsome and succ–”
“Mamá. Te detienes. No inviting friends or co-workers or the man at the doctores. I, uh,” You can do this, Valentina. Perk up those tits and say it. “I met someone.”
The squeal that leaves my mother’s mouth has me wincing and pulling my earbud out until the ringing ceases.
“Oh Valentina. This makes me so happy. Will he be joining us? What is he like? Is he from Spain? Where did you meet?”
“Cálmate, mamá. Slow down.”
“Bueno. Lo siento. I’ll be quiet. Go ahead.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and breathe deep. “He will be in Los Angeles but he won’t be able to join us for dinner–”
“?Y por qué?” she interrupts .
“If you would wait a minute, I will explain why. He will be there for only a couple days and has to leave Sunday. It will be late when he’s done, so he won’t be able to meet you.”
“Busy? Who is too busy to meet their novia’s parents?”
“He is, Mamá. He is…he’s a football player.” I close my eyes as another eeekkk is let loose. “And not that kind of fútbol. American football.”
“Oh,” she says curtly. “Well I guess that is okay. But I don’t see many Spaniards playing American fútbol.”
“That’s because he is not Spanish.” She gasps as if I told her I’ve decided to become a serial killer.
“Paloma. Basta basta.” Papá shushes her and she blesses me with her silence.
“He is Hispanic, partly. His mom is of Mexican heritage but his dad is mixed race.”
My parents are by no means racist. We were all taught to love every one of every color, ethnicity, religion and sexual preference.
One of Mamá’s closest friends is from Yugoslavia.
But for her children, she is very set on keeping to “our roots.” It’s old fashioned, and maybe even closed minded, but she feels how she feels and I feel how I do.
She should know by now that I don’t follow the norm. I am who I am and I do what I want. I refuse to fall into line with her expectations, and that is what bothers her the most. Valentina. The daughter who is too smart for her own good.
“Bueno. Tan bien.” I’m a fool to think her opposition ends there. “But I do not understand why he cannot meet us for just one night. He has to eat, nó?”
“Yes, he has to eat. But he flies in on Saturday, has a short practice, then has a curfew. He has time for a quick dinner which is usually with his teammates. They leave immediately after the game on Sunday, so there really is no time for him to drive up here and spend hours eating and being grilled with a thousand questions.”
I can hear the disappointment in their sighs. It’s louder than if they were to yell. Mamá has always known how to lay on the guilt trip really thick, so the weight starts to push me down like a hundred pound boulder.
“Maybe,” I start then pause, wondering if what I am about to say is the dumbest or smartest thing to do. “Maybe I will ask if we can join him for an early dinner Saturday night. A short dinner.”
She starts praising me in Spanish as if I’ve just told her I’ve been crowned the Queen of Spain. Here she is, thinking I’m about to introduce her to her next rich and famous son-in-law. Won’t she be heart broken when we “break-up” in a few more weeks.
“Let me call him and ask if it’s even possible. Don’t get overly excited and start picking out your evening gown. I’m not certain he can make time. Okay?”
“Bueno. Entiendo, mi hija.” Mamá’s voice turns sugary sweet, dripping in love and adoration for her daughter.
My parents love me, I know that. I have never once thought or acted as if they do not.
I just simply feel like I’m always the one disappointing them with my life choices.
No husband, I live in a different state, and I don’t conform to their expectations.
Typical middle child who goes against the grain.
“I’ll text Alba and let her know I’ll fly in on Friday morning so we can spend the entire day doing wedding stuff. I’m going to call Nic now–”
“His name is Nic?” Papá asks, and I realize I completely forgot to tell them his name, just as they didn’t bother to ask.
“Nico Loving. In case you want to ask Esmeralda to Google him since I know neither of you know how to do that.” I give a small chuckle thinking about Papá calling me to ask if I know Google and how to get ahold of him because he had a question to ask.
“I will call Nic and let you know if we can make it work. But no pouting if he can’t. Got it?”
“Sí. Got it,” Mamá replies, and I can hear the smile on her face.
“Te amo. Nosotros hablaremos pronto.” They say they love me back and we hang up.
My neck is tight and tense from holding in the stress and I make a mental note to schedule a massage. Now that the hard part is over, it’s time to deal with the eager puppy dog who I have found hidden under the playboy facade Nic likes to present to the world.
The tension fills me again, and I repeat the process of breathing, clenching my jaw, and dialing his number.
“Hello mi Reina. Are you calling to tell me you’re madly in love with me and we should run off to Las Vegas to get married and have a dozen beautiful babies?”
My eyes are going to get permanently stuck in the back of my head if I can’t control the rolling of them when I speak with him.
“No. This is not a declaration of love or proposition of marriage and family, and there never will be. This is me calling to tell you that I told my parents about our sham relationship…minus the sham part. And now–”
“And now they want to meet me so your father can give me his blessing to marry you?”
“Please don’t make this difficult for me. Try to act like a normal human and keep your stupid comments to yourself. I just need you to smile and answer a few questions. Can you do that?” My nerves are at an all time high. Never knowing what he’s going to say or do has me on the edge of my sanity.
The thought of Nic saying something sexually suggestive or crude makes my stomach curdle. I would never be able to visit my family again. The entire state of California would be banned from me ever stepping foot in it.
After a few moments, Nic finally breaks my thoughts of mom choking on her water after hearing him say ‘that’s what she said.’
“Beautiful. I promise to be on my best behavior. So much so that Mamá and Papá San Ramón will be begging me to be part of the family.”
That’s my fear.