Chapter 20 Willa
WILLA
Iwas one of the first children to arrive at my parents’ Sunday afternoon, which meant I immediately got to work helping my father clean the grill and fill the coolers.
“Remember the Baltimore Tusks? The all-orc hockey team that formed this fall?” I asked as I broke apart sets of juice boxes and put them into a small cooler labeled “kids” in black Sharpie on the side.
“How could I forget? They’re terrible. I don’t think those orcs even know how to skate. Why did that demon think they would make a good hockey team?”
“I think he was going for entertainment and novelty rather than actual sport prowess,” I told him. “But besides that, I’m planning to go to the owner this week and pitch my services as the team’s trainer.”
“Well, you can’t do any worse than whatever trainer they’ve got right now.”
Ouch. I know Dad didn’t mean it to sound that way, but it still stung. “They don’t have a trainer. Or a coach, or anything.”
Dad dumped a bag of ice over the sodas and closed the cooler lid. “Honey, you’re really good at what you do. Why would you want to be the team trainer for a team where the owner doesn’t even care if they win or lose?”
“Because it’s the only chance I’ve got to prove that I can work with a professional sports team,” I argued.
“No other team would even think of hiring a woman whose only work experience is at a small local gym. I’m hoping I can make a difference.
And I want to have this on my resume. If it doesn’t work out or the team folds or something, then I can use the experience to springboard my career in a different direction. ”
He nodded, handing me a bag of ice for the juice box cooler. “Okay. That actually makes sense. And I’m glad you’re staying in Baltimore.”
I put the ice down to give him a quick hug.
Dad had always told us he never truly felt at ease unless we were all under his roof.
That was becoming impractical giving the growing size of my siblings’ families, but I understood the sentiment.
It was one of the reasons I cherished Sunday family dinner, and prioritized holiday and other celebratory gatherings.
Family was so important, and I wanted to snatch every chance I could to be with them, to share the joyous moments and grieve together over the sad ones.
After a long hug, he patted me on the back and I pulled away. “Love you, Willa-beast.”
It was my childhood nickname given to myself after noticing the similarity between my name and wildebeests. That had spurred a fascination with the creatures that led to a lot of research and my parents’ belief that I might one day become a zoologist.
We finished up the coolers discussing the Ravens’ football season, then I went in to help Mom in the kitchen while Dad got the charcoal going on the grill.
Nana and Pops were in the kitchen with Mom. I squealed in surprise to see my maternal grandparents, and ran to give them hugs and cheek-kisses.
“How was the cruise?” I asked.
“Beautiful.” Nana sighed. “The Danube is magical, and I could absolutely spend weeks in Vienna if not months. I think we’re going to schedule a trip there this spring, because one day in port just isn’t enough.”
Envy twinged through me—only briefly though. Nana and Pops had worked hard and this had been their retirement dream. It was mine as well. I just didn’t want to have to wait for retirement to experience it.
Spain. I was going to plan a trip to Spain. And then I would save up the money to go even if I had to stop eating out with friends quite as much.
“What was your favorite place?” I asked Pops.
The man ran a hand over the sparse tight silver curls on his head and pursed his lips in thought.
“I loved Vienna as well, and really enjoyed the stop in Melk. The Melk Abbey was amazing. I’d like to spend more time in Bratislava, so maybe we can add an additional week there after two weeks in Austria. ”
“You’ll get to see it all after dinner,” Nana told me. “We’ve sent a slideshow of pictures to your mother so she can hook her laptop to the television and we can tell you all about our trip.”
I bit back a laugh, knowing that Dad and some of my siblings wouldn’t be thrilled having their football games preempted by The Danube Cruise Slideshow.
Most of us loved it when Nana and Pops showed us the highlight reel from their trips.
The football game viewing could be on hold until afterward, then caught up by fast-forwarding through the commercials.
“What do you think about Spain?” I asked my grandparents as I washed my hands to help Mom pat out hamburgers.
“Oooo, Spain!” Nana handed Pops a tray of seasoned chicken and shoo’d him out to the grill.
“Madrid,” Pops called back as he headed to the back door. “The museums, the history, the food. You should spend a whole week in Madrid.”
Nana blew out an exasperated breath. “Earl, the poor girl probably only has a week or ten days to spare. Better for her to sample as much as she can this time, and go back later for a whole week in her favorite spot.”
That was their travel routine, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to afford a second trip, so I wanted to focus on just a few cities or one region. And I trusted Nana and Pops far more than a YouTube vlogger or a Lonely Planet guidebook.
“What was your favorite spot in Spain, Nana?” I asked as I scooped a handful of seasoned ground beef to began to make a patty.
“You know I’m just as much of a history buff as Pops, and Spain is full of history.
” A dreamy smile curved her lips upward.
“There really are no bad choices, but my favorites were in the south. Grenada. You absolutely must see Alhambra. You need to get tickets early, and absolutely pay for a good guide. I’ve got a recommendation I’ll send to you.
It’s magnificent. Built by the last Muslim rulers in Spain, it’s a beautifully preserved view into what life was like in the thirteenth century.
Seville is wonderful, but if I had limited time and really wanted to immerse myself into the multiculturalism that was Medieval Spain, then I’d definitely go to Granada. ”
“Over Barcelona?” Mom asked. “You and Dad raved about your trip there.”
Nana nodded. “Barcelona is a good choice. The Gaudi architecture. The Catalonian culture. I love Barcelona. And Madrid. And Valencia. And Seville and Toledo and Segovia, and many more. As I said, there are no bad choices in Spain. But if I had to pick only one place to visit, it would be Granada and Alhambra.”
“Bah, you need to go to Poland.” My paternal grandmother walked into the room and grinned at Nana.
The two women hugged, then sat at the kitchen table.
“Krakow, Wroclaw, and don’t forget Gdansk if you want to see where your grandfather and I grew up.
Warsaw is nice too, but it’s a big city and a little too much hustle for me. ”
Nana eyed her with interest. “Why have Earl and I not been to Poland yet? We need to talk so I can find out all the best spots to visit and food to eat. We’ll go this spring, after we get back from Vienna.”
“My next trip will be to Poland,” I told Grandma, hoping I could eventually manage to save up enough for a second trip. “A…a friend and I had sort of an agreement and he gave me three choices of where to plan a trip. I picked Spain.”
“He?” All three women paused, their eyebrows practically at their hairlines.
I rolled my eyes. “I do have male friends, you know.”
“But none of them make you all flustered,” Nana pointed out.
“And you never use that weird tone when you refer to them either,” Grandma added.
Mom quickly washed her hands and sat at the table with us. “Spill the tea, Willa. Is this that Dean you were talking about before? If so, you’re about ten times more interested than you were last Sunday.”
It was only one good date following a week of casual, but super hot, sex. Not the sort of thing I wanted to bring up to my family, especially given my past with this sort of thing. But I couldn’t help myself.
“It’s not Dean. It’s someone else. And it’s far too early to know if this is going to work out or not,” I warned.
It didn’t matter. The three women leaned in like I was about to spill state secrets.
“We had a date last night, and it was magic,” I gushed. Note that I did not mention that date was preceded by a week of sex-only activity.
“A moonlight stroll along the river?” Grandma asked.
“He took you to an independent film release?” Nana asked.
“He fed you? Please baby Jesus, tell me he fed you,” Mom teased.
My smile was so broad my cheeks hurt. “We started out throwing axes.”
“That’s a bold move,” Nana said.
“Then he took me to Costiera’s.”
“Did you get the pork belly porchetta? Please tell me you got the porchetta?” Mom pleaded.
“We both did. And it was A-maze-ing!” I announced. “After that we went to Vacaros for cannoli.”
“So romantic,” Mom said.
“And then to Mobtown for dancing.”
“Oh, I love Mobtown!” Nana exclaimed. “Your Pops is quite the dancer. He can foxtrot like a pro.”
I laughed. “Well, neither of us can foxtrot, or tango, or even waltz. We spent most of the night doing that high-school version of a slow dance where you plaster yourselves against each other and kind of sway.”
“Totally legit,” my grandmother said with her Polish accent.
The other family members arrived, and we all ate, played basketball, enjoyed the Nana and Pop’s slideshow of their Danube River cruise, and cheered the Ravens on to victory against the Cincinnati Bengals.
That evening as we crowded into the kitchen to clean up from dinner, I asked Mom for a couple of to-go containers.
“Yes, hon. Please help yourself.” She gave me a concerned once-over. “I’ve got a container of white chicken chili in the freezer if you want to take that home as well.”
“It’s not for me.” Although I often took home containers of leftovers for myself. “This is for…the guy I went out with last night.”
Mom gave me a knowing look. “One date and you’re taking him food? Little fast, don’t you think?”
I still didn’t want to confess to a week of sex before the one date, or that I had fallen hard for yet another Mr. Wrong. “He eats out a lot. I thought he’d enjoy some home-cooked food.”
“Humph.”
With that sound of judgement Mom pulled the plastic containers from the cabinet and handed them to me. “Go ahead. But if he breaks your heart I’m going to drive over to his house and beat the barbecued chicken out of him.”
An hour later I was knocking on the entrance of Eng’s apartment. He swung the door open, visibly delighted to see me. I held out the containers of food and he stood aside and gestured for me to enter.
“It was family dinner night, so I brought you some leftover chicken, macaroni and cheese, salad, and corn bread. I hope you like—holy mother of God, is that an Amy Sherald painting?”
Eng’s “hovel” looked completely different than the last time I’d been here.
Gone was the Rent-A-Center sofa and dining set.
In its place was the most gorgeous furniture I’d ever seen.
There was a sculpture on a side table that looked like it had come from a museum, and on the wall were several beautiful paintings, including the one I was staring at as if I’d seen Jesus come back in the flesh.
“I wanted to make my hovel a sanctuary,” he said, his voice holding a slight tinge of embarrassment.
“She painted Michelle Obama’s official White House portrait. Amy Sherald is a fucking legend. How did you get this painting?”
The orc squirmed. “I went on a website for a local art gallery and picked paintings I liked. Then I purchased them and paid extra to have them delivered and hung on my walls right away. Do you like it?”
“Like it? Like it?” The painting was amazing, a portrait of a young Black American woman with bold primary colors.
The subject looked from the canvas with a confident stare, her hands on her hips, her curls wild, a slight sideways smile that gave her a rakish and seductive edge.
I loved it. And I couldn’t believe that Eng would have impulsively purchased an insanely expensive work of art that was so in alignment with my own tastes.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.
“I’m glad, because I think it is beautiful too. This female in the picture looks nothing like you, but she still reminds me of you in every way.”
I nearly melted into a pool right there on his floor.
“Thank you for this food. Will you stay the night?”
I was so tempted. “I have some early clients at the gym tomorrow, so it’s probably not a good idea. I need to be well rested, and we both know if I stay the night there will be very little sleep happening.”
He chuckled. “That is true. When are you done with your clients tomorrow? Will you be available in the afternoon around two o’clock for another date?”
Another date. I would move heaven and earth and my personal training schedule for another date with him. “Yes, I’m available at two o’clock.”
“Then I will pick you up at your den. Wear comfortable and warm clothing.”
I was intrigued. And I was in love. The guy had money, and taste, and he was the best in bed I’d ever had.
I actually enjoyed talking to him and spending time with him.
I wanted to make a life with him. I wanted us to build our world together.
I’d never fallen quite so hard or so fast as I’d done for this orc.
“I’ll be ready,” I told him.
Then we kissed, and I very reluctantly left and went back to my studio apartment where I tossed and turned most of the night, thinking about Eng.