Chapter Thirteen
Jaime watched Alma drive away from her parents’ home, which was bizarre since he was used to being the one who’d leave.
The night had been pleasant, better than he had expected, but still made him uneasy nonetheless. He was getting closer to Alma, and he was learning more about tequila—but was he falling for her too?
He walked back into the house. Senora Garcia was waiting for him with a kind smile on her face.
Jaime’s heart tightened a bit. He almost never saw his own mom, nor did he even want to.
He couldn’t remember the last time she’d made him a home-cooked meal, and smiles were few and far between, though the judgment was rampant.
Senora Garcia handed him a fluffy folded-up blue towel. “This is for you. I have your room all prepared.”
“Thank you, Senora Garcia. For dinner and for offering to let me stay here.”
“You’re welcome, mijo.” She paused and pursed her lips.
Jaime knew that look—he’d seen her daughter make it many times. “Do you have a question for me?”
She clasped her hands in a prayer position. “Yes. I do. Why did you come back up here? It was for Alma, yes?”
Jaime exhaled, loudly enough that she could hear. He had actually come up to Marin to see Alma, but not to get back together with her. So a yes wouldn’t be a lie, would it?
“I did. I wanted to see her.” All true.
Senora Garcia hugged him. “I knew it. I just knew it. I told Juan that you would return. He didn’t believe me. I even lit a candle.”
Jaime forced a smile. A candle? Was Senora Garcia doing some Mexican candle magic love spell on him and Alma?
He didn’t even understand what that entailed, though Enrique had dragged him once to a curandero in Escondido.
That Mexican soothsayer had been a trip.
The guy had reeked of sage and weed and wore a ridiculous colorful serape.
Enrique had forced Jaime to get a reading done, but the curandero didn’t speak a word of English, and both Enrique and Jaime were too embarrassed to admit they didn’t understand anything that he’d said.
“What kind of candle?” Jaime leaned gently against an old grandfather clock Alma’s father had won on The Price is Right in the eighties. He must’ve watched that VHS tape of her father winning at least twenty times when Jaime came over to her parents’ house.
“A love candle. Ven a mí.”
Jaime stared at her, completely lost. His brain searched his high school Spanish knowledge for clues but came up empty. “What?”
“Return to me. But not to me—to Alma.”
Great. Fucking great. Here Jaime thought he’d had some control over this situation, but apparently this entire idea of coming to Marin, which he’d thought originated while he was drinking tequila in La Jolla, had been all destined by some type of bruja-ha.
Should he ask her more about her little love spell? Did he even believe in this stuff? No. Definitely not. But he would still tell Enrique and ask him to explain. Later.
He needed to clarify his intent. “I don’t want to mislead you—I did want to see Alma. I came up here to see her. But it wasn’t to get back together with her. I wanted to learn more about tequila. I’m sorry.”
She cupped his face with her hands. “That is what you told yourself. To make it easier on you if it didn’t work out. But I believe you were guided back to her by that fake reasoning. Because you two are meant to be.”
Her eyes were so hopeful. He couldn’t crush her. “Maybe.”
“Not maybe, mijo. Definitely.”
Jaime gulped. Time to make his escape. “Good night, Senora.”
“Good night.”
He walked into Alma’s bedroom. It was odd that he was sleeping in her childhood room, especially without her. There was a giant poster of Selena on the wall and another of Diego Luna. He was about to shut her door when he saw Carlos lurking in the hallway.
Might as well get all the family talk over. “Hey, man. What’s up?”
Carlos shook his head. “Nada.” Carlos stared at Jaime. “Actually, can we talk?”
“Of course.”
Carlos walked into the bedroom and closed the door behind him.
Carlos sat next to Jaime on Alma’s small twin bed, covered with a crocheted blanket her mom had made. Jaime nervously looked out the window at the citrus trees. What did Carlos want? He hoped it wasn’t another guilt trip about Alma.
“Sorry again about roping you and your family into the festival, and even more sorry about giving you so many drinks that you had to stay here. I know that’s super weird.”
“It is a bit, but don’t worry about it.”
“And my mom is a piece of work. She’s a die-hard romantic. And Alma hasn’t been serious about anyone since you broke up so in Mamá’s head she feels you are meant to be.”
“I get it. It’s fine. As long as Alma and I are clear. I don’t want to mislead her.”
“Good. Then we won’t have any problems.”
Carlos looked at his feet.
Jaime had been pretty close to him years ago, and he had never seen him this nervous. “You okay, bro?”
Carlos nodded. “Yeah. I am. I just wanted to ask you something.”
“Anything. Shoot.”
“Look. I know you are already going to fundraise and donate for the park. And I hate to beg. But my soccer program is bankrupt. The parents can’t afford the dues or uniforms. You saw our field—it’s shit.
There are so many talented players down here, and they honestly don’t have a chance. It’s not fair.”
Jaime exhaled. Carlos was right. “It isn’t fair.”
“And, I haven’t told Alma this, but I’m not going to be able to continue being a coach. I need a job. I can’t keep living with my parents, even though they say they don’t mind. I’m twenty-seven. One day, I want to have my own family and my own house. Which probably won’t be possible in Marin.”
He was right about that. Gentrification had taken over San Rafael. There were hardly any homes under a million. It was impossible for most families to ever dream of owning a home in the community they grew up in.
“I’m sorry, man. I don’t know how I can help.”
Carlos turned to Jaime, his eyes pleading. “Don’t you have a foundation? I mean, doesn’t the Montez Group?”
“We do. There is a board of directors. We do mostly charity in San Diego. Restaurant worker funds. Food shortages. That kind of stuff.”
“That’s great. And really important. But I know how much you love soccer. And you are super talented, not just saying that to butter you up. It’s true.”
“Thanks.” Jaime lived to play soccer when he was younger. He’d had all the resources to make his dreams a reality. But his father didn’t want him to pursue being a professional. Jaime wished he had pushed back.
Carlos stared into Jaime’s eyes. “I’m asking you to consider funding a world-class club soccer program here in the Canal.
Pay for top coaches. Buy uniforms and equipment for the kids.
The children here are so talented and can go all the way.
But they don’t have the opportunities. I don’t know anyone else to ask.
And I know you have already done so much but I’m going to shoot my shot. ”
A burst of hope flooded Jaime. He could do this. He could make a proposal to the board and fund this. Something he loved. Something he was passionate about.
But he didn’t want to overpromise and underdeliver. If he told Carlos he could do this, he needed to be a man of his word.
“Bro, it’s a great idea. And I will do everything in my power to make it happen. Let’s talk the logistics tomorrow.”
Carlos beamed. “Thank you. I’d like to be the director if possible. I’m more than qualified.” He laughed. “And maybe, if you’re interested, I’ll hire you as a coach.”
Jaime smirked. “I’d like that.” And it would be one way for him to stay in town.
Near Alma.
“Night.”
“Good night. Thank you.”
Jaime got ready to sleep, lying down in Alma’s bed. He felt a sense of peace wash over him.
And for the first time in a long time, he was proud of himself.
He hadn’t always just been a vague pretty boy—once he’d had substance, he’d been someone others found friendly and nonjudgmental. That was worth being happy with, and he could make a difference in so many people’s lives.
—
Jaime smoothed the lapels of his black tuxedo. Tonight, he was hosting Leti and accompanying her to her dance.
He thought back to his own prom—which he didn’t even attend.
He and a bunch of his buddies hijacked the limousine his dad had rented and headed to Mexico.
They partied at this nightclub on an abandoned ship in Ensenada, dined on lobster in Puerto Nuevo, and then drank all night on the beach.
His father was livid when he found out where they had gone.
He’d grounded him for a month, but that didn’t stick.
Jaime just waited for his dad’s next business trip and went back to his usual antics.
Man, his high school years were nothing like those of his friends in normal, stable families. What would his life have been like if he had ever been given rules and boundaries and had punishments enforced when he broke them? Maybe he wouldn’t have turned into such an entitled prick.
Maybe he never would’ve broken Alma’s heart.
But tonight he was going to this prom. He would make sure that Leti had a great time.
Jaime pulled up at Santi’s mother’s house, where she was standing outside with her son.
For a moment, Jaime imagined Santi’s dad standing with them. He would’ve loved to see his daughter go to prom. It was so unfair that cancer had taken him away from his family.
Jaime climbed out of his car and joined them, hugging Santi’s mother.
She hugged him back. “Jaime, you look so handsome. It’s been too long.”
“Yes, it has. I haven’t seen you since graduation.” Another milestone Jaime’s dad didn’t make it to. He was on a very important business trip. “How have you been?”
“Good, I guess.”
Santi slapped his hand, and they engaged in a bro hug. Santi held a fancy-looking camera. Jaime guessed his latest iPhone wasn’t going to cut it for tonight.
“Thanks again for doing this, man. She’s so excited.”