Chapter 3
chapter three
nesto
I stood there watching Jude walk off toward the library after tugging Carmen by the arm.
His Spanish was great and totally caught me by surprise. And damn his ass was fine. He knew it, too.
I was thinking Jude and his ass were going to be a serious monkey wrench in my “total focus” plan for the next six months when I heard my mom chuckling in the back.
“What are you laughing at?”
“At your face when that rubio hit on you. His Spanish is pretty good!”
Of course, my mom overheard.
“Damn, Mamí, it’s like your ears get supersonic or something if there’s a man I can even remotely think of dating in the vicinity.”
She would probably be telling me to ask him out within the next few minutes. I’d been here less than twenty-four hours, and she had already started on me about finding someone. How I was “too good and handsome to be alone,” and “any man with good sense would want me for a partner.”
“I’m not gonna lie, he is pretty, but I kind of have my hands full at the moment,” I exclaimed, waving said hands around.
“Ay m’ijo, I’m not saying marry him, just ask him out for a drink. He’s a good dresser, too. I like that, formal,” she said, giving me a disapproving look. “Not wearing jeans and t-shirts everywhere like someone I know.”
As soon as she talked about his clothes my mind drifted to Jude again.
His outfit had been pretty fly. Slim gray chinos—which did wonders for his ass—navy boat shoes, and a blue cardigan over a white shirt.
But what made me take notice was the chartreuse bowtie completing the ensemble.
He’d looked like a fashion magazine’s version of a sexy librarian.
I snapped out of it before my mom started making fun of me for “daydreaming about the gringo.”
When I turned, I found her looking at me like she had every single one of my numbers. “Mamí, it’s like seven hundred degrees in this truck. I have to dress like this, or I’ll die from a heat stroke.”
“Pssh, you’re Dominican, you were born in one- hundred-degree heat with one-hundred-and-ten percent humidity.” She waved me and my whining off. “This is nothing, people wear coats in Santo Domingo when it’s this cool out.”
It was seventy-six outside and the truck was steamy, but I laughed anyway, because she wasn’t lying.
“En serio, m’ijo, don’t get so focused on the truck you forget to live your life.
You can have some balance.” She bumped my shoulder as I tried to grab something from the shelf behind her.
“You forget sometimes, papí. You’re such a good man, so serious and hardworking, but you also need some love.
Someone to carry the burdens with you. Don’t be like me, sweetheart. ”
I really looked at her then, her hair in a sweaty bun, with grease all over her hands, decked out in one of her many OuNYe t-shirts, and I felt so much love for this woman.
My mother, my biggest supporter, my rock. Taking vacation time from work to come sweat it out with me in this truck, because it was my dream. Emotion swelled inside me and I got closer to give her a hug.
“Mamí, at my best, I could only dream of being half as strong and badass as you. You’re my hero.” I leaned down and kissed her forehead.
“Then listen to your hero and ask the cute blond guy out,” she said, playfully poking her finger into my chest. “Winter nights in Ithaca can be lonely and cold. And watch your language.”
I pinched her cheek and conceded, “Okay, okay, mujer! I’ll ask him out when I see him, it’s not like it’s a hardship.”
“Don’t worry so much, m’ijo, you’ll see, this truck will be doing great business in no time.”
I shook my head at her, because my mother’s optimism and certainty I could do anything never waned.
“You’ll have your own restaurant in town by the end of the year.”
“I don’t know about all that. But one can hope, right?”
“I do know. Listen to your mother and keep doing what you’re doing, and you’ll see.”
We started working in silence again. We’d gotten the last few orders out, closed up for the day, and were cleaning up.
Scrubbing and putting things away before we drove the truck out to its overnight spot.
I was whistling to some old-school merengue playing on the speakers when I heard someone come up to the back door of the truck.
“Hello?”
I turned around and saw a woman standing by the back of the truck. She was wearing one of those workout outfits people don’t actually workout in, and she was giving me and the truck stank face so intense I got scared she’d melt the paint off the damn thing.
I smiled at her and she just glared back with her arms crossed against her chest. Her blonde ponytail so tight, her eyebrows were flush against her hairline. She was probably in her fifties and had clearly been to the Botox dealer in town.
Oh man…I did not have the energy for any of this. Nothing good could come from this lady seething by my truck like I owed her money.
I stepped down to where she was standing and did my best to look friendly. “I’m sorry, the lunch service is over for today. I can give you our card so you can follow us on Instagram. We update our location and menu every day.”
She did something with her face I think was her attempt at a smile, but it came out more like a grimace. Then she flicked her hand at me, dismissing the information, stretching her neck trying to look past me.
“I’d like to speak to the owner, please.”
Oh, it’s like that, is it?
I extended my hand out to her. “That would be me, Ernesto Vasquez. How can I help you?” I snapped those syllables, too; no diluting my name to Ehr-nais-tow Vas-quays today.
Nope. ErrrrrrNESTO Vas-QUEZ in motherfucking ES-panol.
She looked at my hand like it would bite her, then stepped back.
“So, are you moving through town or something? I’m with the city council and saw your truck here selling food when I walked by earlier.
I just want to make sure everything’s in order.
” She tipped her head to the side like she wasn’t sure I could understand her.
“That all the documents for your business are in place.”
Whaaaaaat the fuuuuuck?
I tried very hard to control my temper before I answered her. Because this woman at the very least was implying I was running my truck without a permit, or at worst that me, the truck, the food, and the whole fucking rig were here, what? Illegally?
I was about to clarify for her that I was a U.S.
citizen if that’s what she was referring to by “documents,” when my mom came out of the truck.
She stopped for a second and seemed to know or at least recognize the woman.
Then she started walking up to her with the smile she only gave people right before going full-blown, “Bitch, I’m Dominican!
” whenever anyone tried to fuck with her kids.
Before my mom got in the lady’s face, and the impending verbal bloodbath unfolded before my eyes, I got my ass in gear, and blocked Mamí’s path with my hand.
“Ma’am, are you a sanitation inspector? Otherwise, I have my permit to operate this truck and my insurance and licenses are in order.”
I pasted a smile on again, and tried to be courteous and polite, to show this rude fucking woman what it meant to behave like a human being.
I knew my face was definitely not friendly at this point, but I was done with this.
“Like I said, please stop by sometime to try our food. I should get back to cleaning the truck before we drive it out.”
I turned around, grabbed my mom’s hand and left the lady down there looking pissed as we stepped back into the truck.
I hoped this was the end of it, but my brown ass had been around the block enough to know this lady and her meddling would probably be back.
Jude
“Oh my god, Jude Eugenio Maria Fuller! What did you say to him before you walked off? He was blushing and fanning himself!”
I laughed as Carmen and I hurried to the library with our lunch in hand. “Stop giving me random names in Spanish, Carmen! It’s weird!”
“Tell me what you said to the man, Jude!” I shrugged, in answer to her question as we power walked back to the office.
“I may have flirted with him a little.” I blushed at the thought of how bold I’d been.
“When he handed me the food he told me they’d be around all summer and hoped to see me soon.
I don’t know but something just came over me.
I leaned up to the counter and told him, ‘If I don’t see you first,’ in Spanish.
He has a very strange effect on me.” Carmen gave me a confused look and I couldn’t blame her; I was confusing myself.
“Maybe it was because he gave us extra tostones. You know how much I love them.”
“Riiiiiight,” she drawled. One of her eyebrows was raised so high, I feared it would pop right off her head.
“It was because he gave you deep fried plantains. This is great. You need to be a little more spontaneous. If you ask me, you should come back on Friday and ask him out for a drink! He said he wants to see you.”
“Yeah, buying his burritos, not at the bar.”
We walked into the library and headed straight for the break room.
“And I’m spontaneous all the time. I go out with people. I just don’t date-date. I certainly wouldn’t say no to a drink with Nesto,” I said as I pulled food out of the bag.
I even winked to give the whole thing a lighthearted effect.
But pursuing something with Nesto felt dangerous to me.
Like I would not be able to keep my usual walls up with him.
And where was I even going with this line of thinking?
I’d seen the guy twice and exchanged maybe twenty words with him, ten of which were me ordering a burrito.
I shook my head and smiled at Carmen again, hoping to get her off this topic. “A man that hot is certainly a lot more than I can take on right now. Nope, I will eat his delicious food, and I will stare at his even more delectable body, but that’s all for me.”
I even attempted another laugh, but it came out like I was in pain. “The dating thing is just not something I do well, so I stay in my lane.”
As we sat down with our food, Carmen started talking again.
“Babe you can’t possibly know if you’re not good at it when you have only ever had one serious relationship, which ended sort of horribly. All I’m saying is to try. You don’t have to be so lonely.”
I lifted my head from unwrapping my burrito with what I knew must have looked like a very brittle smile and powered on.
“Who says I’m lonely?” It’s funny, you said something enough times, and it started sounding like the truth. Even when the words felt like they would choke you. “C’mon, you know I don’t like to talk about this stuff, Carmen.”
I patted her hand, ignoring the frustration on her face. I knew she wanted to see me happy and was convinced a relationship with a man was part of the equation.
But it was my life.
“No. Look, Nesto seems nice and is objectively beautiful. And if you ever let me have a bite of this burrito, we’ll find out if he can actually cook. I have a lot in my life.” I waved my hand around the room. “I have friends, I have a job I love. I’m happy like I am.”
After a few seconds of tense silence Carmen finally relented.
“Okay, I hear you, you’re a grown ass man, and you do whatever you want.”
I gave her a grateful look and grabbed my food, “Thank you. I’m not really interested in a romantic relationship, that’s all.”
“Okay, hon, let’s dig into our burritos and talk about what you can do to get the board eating out of your hands instead.”
I sat up in my chair, nodding. “Now, that’s definitely a conversation I’m open to, as soon as I have a couple of bites of this.”
I inhaled the foil covered bundle. “Smells so good.”
We unwrapped the burritos and took huge bites at the same time. After a few seconds we both moaned.
They were delicious, the rice and beans, the spicy beef, with the sweetness of the plantains and the tangy crunch of the onions were the perfect combination.
Figured. Not only was Nesto physically perfect, but he was also a burrito genius.
“I could probably eat this every day for weeks,” I said through a mouthful of goodness.
Carmen dipped her head in silent agreement as she took another huge bite. For the next few minutes we ate in silence, alternating between bites of burrito and the tostones, which were golden, crispy, and delicious.
I glanced up when Carmen put down her half-eaten burrito and mournfully said, “Please tell me I can go back and try the Lupe on Friday. I already told Ted he could meet us there for lunch.”
I tried to keep a straight face when I saw the look of complete agony on hers. Anyone else would think she was trying to be cute, but I knew she was dead serious. I loved her for being willing to sacrifice herself and not go back for more burritos if I asked her.
“Please, these are too good to let my issues keep us from going back. I’ll just make sure I don’t have any more outbursts.” I pointed at my own burrito. “There’s no way I’m depriving myself of food this amazing.”
If I tried really hard, I could almost convince myself my eagerness for lunch Friday was just about the food.