8. Chapter Seven Gloria
Chapter Seven: Gloria
A t nine pm on a Saturday, I probably should be doing anything but working overtime on a case.
But since I have no boyfriend and Raina is out of town, I opened my laptop in a workaholic fervour. As I jog on my walking pad at my standing desk, I make notes on a company’s lawsuit. They’re being sued for defective packaging of soft drinks that could be a choking hazard to customers.
I want that promotion to senior associate. Wendy’s put so much time and effort into mentoring me and helping me get this job at McMann and Ma. The least I can do is be appreciative of her efforts by trying to get the job. It would be ungrateful otherwise.
Besides, the senior associate position offers everything I want and need.
Security. Stability. Not needing to worry about money.
Being able to send more money back home.
Ever since my Tita Dolores died in a hurricane a few years ago, things have been hard for her son, Eddie.
He’s been raised by my Tito James, but he’s also become the little brother I didn’t know I wanted.
Getting this promotion and more pay would mean I can help my family more and maybe contribute to Eddie’s college fund, if he decides he wants to go to college.
I want to give him a better life and more opportunities than so many of his friends and cousins have .
I would be a fool not to want the job, no matter what I said to London about my work. If I want to give back, I can always volunteer my time at a legal clinic. I don’t have to work for a pro bono organization.
Halfway through typing a sentence, I hear my phone ring. It’s my older brother, Paulo. After slowing the pace of the walking pad to a manageable stroll, I answer it. “Hey, Paulo.”
“Hey, Gloria,” Paulo says. “How have you been?”
Paulo calls every few weeks to check up on me, more so now that I’m not living with Raina anymore. I think it’s because he’s a protective older brother, trying to make sure I’m not getting into trouble, even across the Pacific.
“Swamped with work,” I say. “I was actually working on a case when you called.”
The concern in his tone ramps up. “Isn’t it nine pm there?”
“Yep.” I close my laptop, my eyes burning from staring at a screen all day. I need to find more screen-free activities to relax. “It sure is.”
“And you don’t have any friends to go out with or parties to attend?”
“Just because I live in L.A. doesn’t mean I attend parties, Paulo.” I sigh as I open my eyes again and prop up my phone on speaker on the desk. “And I do have friends. Knitting club friends.”
I talk to Sasha, who’s a regular at Raina’s old workplace, and we used to go to knitting club together. I haven’t been in a while since work got busy, and I realized that I have the rare ability to tangle skeins of yarn just by looking at them. I should probably catch up with Sasha, though.
“You have knitting club friends?” he asks dubiously.
“You say that like you don’t believe knitting club is a real thing.” I groan.
“What about your coworker? England?”
“ London is my coworker and my friend. ”
Paulo chuckles. “Mom is wondering if you’ll come back home this year. Eddie, too. He keeps bugging me about when you’ll be home again.”
“I haven’t seen Eddie in forever.” He’s probably grown so much. The last time I saw him, he was nine or ten. Now he’s a teenager, only a few years from being an adult.
“Which is why you should come home. What about All Saints’ Day in a few months?”
Every All Saints’ Day, on the first of November, we go to the graves of our ancestors for the Catholic feast day and remember loved ones, eat food and spend time with family we haven’t seen in a long time, and just generally relax.
I’ve always enjoyed the holiday and maybe this year, I should go back home to celebrate it.
“You’re right. I think I’ll make plans to come home for All Saints’ Day,” I say, thinking of how I can schedule time off from work and make it happen. It’ll be hard with the promotion coming up, but I can make it happen. “What’s new with you?”
To my surprise, my workaholic brother tells me about the girl he’s been seeing who lives next door to him. She works in a cafe and they keep completely opposite hours, but her cat keeps escaping into his yard.
“She sounds like a keeper,” I joke. “But how are you carrying on a relationship if you never see each other?”
“We write each other notes…” he confesses.
I laugh. “That’s adorable.”
My brother, falling in love and writing a woman love letters. I never thought I would see the day.
“So when are you going to settle down and have kids?”
“Even Mom hasn’t asked me that, why would you?”
Mom is more focused on encouraging me to have a steady career.
She says she trusts in God’s timing when it comes to my relationship, which I think is her way of telling me not to date anyone.
Or maybe it’s her way of telling me she has no hope for my love life and has to rely on divine providence.
Either way, at least she doesn’t pressure me about it.
On the other hand, hearing all the wedding announcements from my cousins who are my age makes me feel left behind. Not to mention that Raina got married five years ago. I feel like I’m lagging behind in a race I didn’t even know I entered. And there’s nothing I hate more than being a straggler.
“I’m your brother and I want you to be happy?”
I laugh. “I appreciate your concern, but I’ve already started to work on that.”
“You make it sound like dating is a project.”
“First Raina, now you. Why does everyone say that I’m unromantic?”
“Because you said you’re ‘working on it’ like I’m your boss who wants a progress report.”
“I have a date planned for Monday.”
“What’s his name? What does he do? Where does he live?” Paulo peppers me with questions.
I rub my temples. “One question at a time, please. His name is Lindon.”
Which, now that I think about it, sounds awfully close to London. That would be confusing if things actually worked out between us.
“He works as an architect. I don’t know where he lives, or his social security number, or his date of birth either.”
“Thank you.” Paulo’s tone is calmer. I swear I hear him taking notes as we speak.
“Please don’t stalk him on the internet.”
“Too late, I already found his baby pictures on Facebook.”
My laugh is more like a cackle. “You did not!”
“No, but it was fun making you think I did.”
“Paulo,” I whine. “Please don’t embarrass me.”
“How could I? You live all the way in L.A. What would I do, fly over there to threaten this Lindon guy? What kind of name is Lindon , anyway?”
“It’s better than Jeb,” I mumble with a laugh.
“Okay, tell Lindon or Landon or whatever his name is that you have a scary older brother who will break his bones if he hurts you.”
“Paulo, you’re a doctor and you made an oath to do no harm.”
“Maybe, but I can set his bones after I break them. I’ll just do it without painkillers.”
I chuckle at the thought of my mild-mannered doctor brother actually breaking a man’s bones or even getting into a fistfight. “Have you ever been in a physical fight in your life?”
“Last week Eddie and I wrestled in the backyard.”
“Who won?”
“…Him.”
“Point proven.”
I always feel the urge to best my older brother.
Maybe it’s a lifetime of being compared to him or just plain ole sibling rivalry, but I’m always trying to one-up him, even though he’s ten years older than me.
Growing up in his shadow wasn’t easy. Not that I’ll ever tell him that, since he’s such a great older brother.
Not every teenage boy would be willing to play princess tea party with their five-year-old little sister.
Or give me piggyback rides all the time until the day I moved out.
“Anyways, if I come home in November, will I meet this girl you’ve been seeing?” I ask, changing the subject from his lack of physical prowess at fighting.
“Maybe. Only if you ask nicely and promise not to embarrass me in front of her.”
“What if I just promise not to totally humiliate you in front of her by challenging you to an arm wrestle? ”
“Gloria, I think I would beat you in an arm wrestle. You’re not Eddie.”
“Wait, you lost to Eddie in an arm wrestle? You’re like, twenty years older than him.” I burst out laughing at the mental image of him arm-wrestling our little cousin and losing.
“You know, if you’re going to keep making fun of me, I think I’ll just hang up now,” he says in a bored tone.
“No, no, please don’t leave me here. I have to work on this stupid case and I need someone to distract me from the fact that I have no social life.”
“Gloria, I love you, but I have a shift to get to and I actually have a social life,” he says with a chuckle.
I sigh. “Fine, fine. Have a good shift. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
After hanging up with Paulo, I give up on getting any more work done for the night.
Instead, I check my email. To my surprise, a notification about a job application pops up.
I guess I never closed my Indeed job applications for lawyer-related jobs in my area despite having had this job for almost two years now.
I check the description instead of deleting it. It’s from a local nonprofit that serves those who can’t afford legal counsel. Interesting. I bookmark the email to respond to later, and then wonder why I’m doing so.
The promotion coming up should be an easy sell. I shouldn’t be distracted by thoughts of discontentment or other jobs. I have everything I should want: a great job that pays well, affordable rent, a family who loves me, and friends that I adore.
Why should I feel so discontent and unmoored, like by the end of each day I’ve lived another twenty-four hours drifting around purposelessly? Keeping busy without any real meaning ?
I frown. Maybe it’s because Raina is married and having a baby. So I feel like I’m falling behind in life because I don’t have a relationship. Even my brother is dating someone.
But it’s fine. I take deep, calming breaths. Totally fine. I’ll go on a date with this Lindon guy on Monday, then I’ll see if he suits my criteria for a boyfriend. After being so meticulously hand-selected, he ought to.
Everything is totally under control.