Chapter 6
chapter six
patrice
“What is this? A college professor wearing sweats and basketball shoes. How was your night with Juan Pablo and Camilo?” my mother said, giving me her usual commentary on my clothes with a grin as I stepped into her house. I’d been home for a couple of days but had barely had a chance to see her.
I bypassed her comment about my clothing and distracted her by giving her a tight hug and a double kiss hello.
“Sa’k Pase, Manman? I kissed both her cheeks and went into my mother’s picture-perfect living room.
She gave a knowing look as she went in for another hug. “I’m good, son, but I was talking about your clothes.”
I pointed at the couch, grinning. “Is this new?” I asked as she went into the kitchen.
She’d moved out of the Bronx to Mt. Vernon a few years ago when she got married, after she and my stepdad bought a house.
She had such a different life than how we’d started out with in this country; she worked for all of it, too.
But I worried sometimes the need to make sure she had financial security didn’t let her enjoy what she’d achieved.
I also knew she had never quite gotten over some of the stresses of those first few years.
At least she’d been working on some of it.
In the past year, she’d started seeing a therapist to work on some of her anxiety about work, and she did seem more relaxed.
“It’s new. I got it for Oriol, for our anniversary. But tell me what you were up to today, I’ve barely seen you,” she said as she walked over to her open-plan kitchen.
I sat on the new couch as my mom came out from the kitchen with glasses of fresh juice.
“Here. Have some carrot and ananas.” She sat down next to me on her gorgeous brown leather sectional, wearing her “at home” clothes.
Which usually consisted of jeans and a nice sweater.
The braids in her hair coiled into an intricate design.
She looked young and lovely, like the successful businesswoman she was.
She’d had me when she was just twenty-one, so she was only fifty-six and did not look a day over forty.
She clicked her tongue at whatever she saw on my face, patted my leg with a perfectly manicured hand. “So tell me, how is it? I want to hear more about your new place and job.”
I sipped from the juice and sighed, so good.
“I sent you the photos,” I teased, knowing that would not be nearly enough.
She’d asked for pictures the day I moved in, and I made sure to send some featuring some of the kitchen cabinets which were laden with the dishes and glasses she’d gotten me.
“It’s very nice, almost brand new, and the guy who owns the building is—”
I cleared my throat and looked down, annoyed that after just a few words, I was already bringing up Easton.
I’d been thinking about him nonstop. In the two days since that dinner, we’d texted a few times.
Just silly shit about books we’d been reading or we’d send each other pictures of something we saw or were doing.
I’d even promised him a photo of the soup.
I looked over at my mom and she gave me a weird look, probably because I was smirking and looking into space like an idiot.
“Pardon, Manman.” I squeezed her knee and she waved in my direction indicating I needed to keep talking.
“I have a guest bedroom for when you and Oriol come and visit. I’m starting to feel comfortable there.”
She smiled and kissed my cheek. “Good, you deserve it. You worked so long and so hard for that. I’m proud of you, bébé. But we need to talk about these clothes. I thought we agreed you needed to dress more formally.”
I rolled my eyes because I knew she’d get on my case about it. “Odette, we would mean you and I both decided on something, not you telling me what to do.” She gave me her patented unbothered look, and raised an eyebrow as to say, “and your point is?”
“I spent the day running errands,” I said, peering down at my sweatshirt, jeans, and Tims combo. “This is perfectly fine.”
She shook her head like I was a very lovable but completely lost cause. “But you’re a professor now. Why spend hundreds of dollars on tennis shoes? If you’re going to spend your money, buy something nice.”
I threw my hands up, laughing. “These shoes are nice and I don’t need to wear suits all the time! I promise I don’t teach in these clothes.”
She adopted the mischievous look that in my childhood had always been the prelude to something that would either mortify me or delight me. I could never tell.
“Maybe I should start asking for OOTD selfies.”
I did bust up at that. “Manman, where did you hear about that?” I said, grinning at how pleased she look with herself for throwing “outfit of the day” at me.
“You know I got my fashion sense from you. I’m not showing up in class looking like a scrub.
” She gave me a look like she wasn’t convinced in the slightest that I wasn’t going to show up to class in my Tims.
I had to distract her with something, or this was going to end with her forcing me to go shopping with her. “How’s business? You said you’re expanding?”
She immediately perked up at that. My mom was the OG hustler. She’d started her own business when I was in high school and was always on the move trying to take it to the next level.
She looked over at me, her face open and smiling, and I could tell she had a lot of good news.
“Your Manman is now officially working in the Westchester courts. So far we’ve gotten a lot of business; there are lots of Caribbean people moving up here, so our court interpreters are getting a lot of work. ”
“Of course you are,” I said with a grin. Knowing she’d worked on that expansion for two years. “You always know when to make your next move. Did you hire more people?” I asked, genuinely pleased for her.
“Yes, of course. I’ve been working with Camilo’s agency.
Training some of the women in their economic mobility program.
” Soon, she was launching a detailed explanation of the expansion.
My mom had started working as court interpreter in New York City when I was finishing high school, after years of night school and working minimum wage jobs to support us.
Once she’d been in it for a while, she noticed there was a lack of interpreters from Haiti, Cuba, Puerto Rico, and Dominican Republic who could better accommodate people from those countries when they needed to testify in court or to be deposed, so she decided to start a business that specialized in court interpreters from the islands.
After only a few years, business was booming.
She had over fifty interpreters now. She favored women in her hiring, because she wanted to help those who, like her, were trying to make it here.
“You are killing the game, Odette.” That made her preen. She had put her all into that business, and I was so damn proud of my mother.
I always had an amazing example to follow. My mother paid a steep price to be able to start her business, but she’d made sure she never had to ask for help again. That was something I never ever forgot.
We both looked at each other as if we were both thinking the same thing. But before we could go down memory lane, we heard the doorbell and I stood up to get the door. I could already hear my two best friends arguing on the other side of the door.
“Juan Pablo, just call her.” I found Camilo giving Juanpa epic stank face, while J just stood there unresponsive.
I’d missed these fuckers so much.
“Do I even want to know?” I asked, as I ushered them inside.
“Just trying to talk some sense into him.” I raised an eyebrow, because with Camilo that could mean anything, since he freely told us what to do about pretty much every aspect of our lives.
He rolled his eyes at the puzzled look on my face. “Priscilla.” Oh. No wonder Juan Pablo wasn’t talking.
I was going to tell Camilo to leave him alone when the doorbell rang again. I opened the door and found Camilo’s mom, Dinorah, and Juanpa’s parents, each holding a dish of something. My mom jumped up as soon as she saw them.
“Finally, I thought I was going to have to sit and hear these three fight all night,” she said as she passed Camilo, Juanpa, and me, delivering double kisses to them as she went.
After the routine hellos, which with a mix of Caribbean people and J’s Italian mom, took some time, we all went in and started helping get dinner on the table.
“Odette, this smells amazing,” Camilo exclaimed as he brought out the gigantic bowl of soup Joumou. I was just remembering I’d promised Easton a photo when my pocket buzzed.
I still haven’t gotten any feast photos. You already forget about me, Professor?
Why did my stomach have to dip like that whenever I saw a text from Easton?
I saw Camilo looking at me from the other side of the table and quickly shoved the phone in my pocket. I’d gotten enough from him about Easton last night when we had dinner at Juanpa’s.
We got our bowls of soup and sat around my mom’s dining table.
It felt so good to be around my people. Nesto was missing though, and that hurt a little bit.
Now that I was up in Ithaca, we’d reconnected again and it made me miss the times when it was the four of us against the world.
When I’d finally found friends who looked at me and truly saw me.
I thought about Easton and the ease with which I could talk to him about my life. I couldn’t believe I told him about my dad. That was something I rarely ever discussed.
“Damn bruh, where’s your head right now?” I snapped my head up to see J looking at me with bemusement.
“Nothing. Just thinking about all the shit I need to do for my class.”