Chapter 9
Vanessa
I video-call Lisa as soon as I get home. Yes, we need to debrief, but my date with Jason has also shaken me to my core, and I’m desperate for the reminder that I can never view him as anything more than a means to an end.
She answers immediately, greeting me with a genuine smile. Her friendly expression is a timely reminder that this is what I wanted: an authentic connection with my younger sister. Sure, it’s based on my ability to help her land a man, but I’m hopeful we’ll blossom from there.
Her hair’s up in a doobie—a telltale sign she visited a Dominican hair salon for a blowout—and she’s holding a large white bowl.
“Ice cream,” she explains, raising a spoon in the air. “And my DVR’s getting a workout.”
“What are you watching?”
“Old episodes of Project Runway. When Heidi and Tim were still around.”
This isn’t surprising. Before I left home, Lisa was designing the clothes she wore in high school. “Are you still making your own stuff?”
She shakes her head. “No time. Whenever I get home, I’m too mentally exhausted to do anything other than watch mindless TV.”
“Maybe now that I’m back, you’ll have more freedom to do what you want. Start a new design project. Or take dance classes again.”
“I haven’t danced in ages, Vanny.” When she sees my face fall, she adds, “But yeah, that could be nice.”
And she sounds sincere, which is a relief. Baby steps, Vanessa. Baby steps.
“Anyway, enough about me,” she says. “How did it go today?”
“It went well, I think. It’s progressing exactly the way it’s supposed to.”
“Did you do any work on the house?”
“Hell yes, and you owe me. I had to tape, sand, and paint a dining room.”
“Ugh, I’ll make it up to you somehow.”
“I’m expecting you to,” I say with a smile.
A niggling thought lingers at the back of my mind: Why can’t I tell Lisa that I actually enjoyed it?
That I felt like I was doing something meaningful for a change?
That working on that home temporarily filled a void?
Probably because I hate admitting to anyone that I’m not perfectly happy just as I am.
Because doing so begets questions. And questions require answers.
It’s always safer to say nothing. No one teases you for saying nothing.
No one judges you for saying nothing. I mean, what the hell do I have to be unhappy about anyway?
Would Lisa even care? She deals with students with real problems, day in and day out.
My bullshit can’t possibly be worth her time.
You admitted your feelings to Jason, though, my inner critic reminds me. Why’s that, huh? Screw you, brain. You’re not helping.
To Lisa, I say, “Seriously, though, don’t worry about it. Consider it my one and only good deed for the year.”
“Well, now I definitely need to repay you. Especially if what you’re doing is working.”
“It is.”
“How can you tell?”
I gulp before I answer. Here it goes: “He kissed me.”
Which technically isn’t a lie. But saying he kissed me makes it seem as if I was a passive participant. No, I was definitely all in. Pebbled nipples and everything. The truth is, we kissed. And it was devastatingly good.
Lisa’s eyes go as wide as saucers, then she places her bowl of ice cream aside and leans forward, her elbows showing in the video frame. “A kiss on the cheek?”
“No.”
She breaks eye contact for a moment, then lets out a soft sigh. “This is why you wanted me to be sure about doing this, right?”
“Right. But don’t read too much into it. We were on a date, and that’s the conventional way to end one. Keep in mind this needs to happen for us to get to the finish line. Plus, I already told him we need to slow down. That’ll buy us some time.”
“I get it, I do. And I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Is…is he a good kisser?”
“Doesn’t matter what I think.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“I’d tell you if he had halitosis, though,” I say, injecting lightness into my tone. “Because that would be a deal-breaker. But you have nothing to worry about there.”
She grins, relief flooding her features. “So what’s next?”
“He invited me to Cami and Bryan’s couples shower next week. Remember the roller-coaster analogy? We’re about to start the loop-the-loop phase.”
“What are you planning to do?”
“Haven’t gotten that far yet. I need to think about his pressure points. But I’ll come up with something and let you know.”
“Okay, good.” She drops her shoulders, then grimaces before saying, “Is this weird?”
“Weird as fuck, Lili.”
She throws her head back and dissolves into laughter. “This is more than weird; it’s bananas.”
“It’s what your ridiculous ass wanted, and it’s too late to turn back now.”
“Is it?” she asks, her expression instantly sobering.
“Well, the landscape’s forever changed. I’m now a person he kissed, so there’s that. But if you want to end it here and do this on your own, I’ll support you one hundred percent.”
“No, that would be even more awkward than going through with the ruse. At this point, I’d be trying to steal my sister’s crush. Eww. Besides, if it works out, all of this will have been worth it. He’s a great guy.”
“So far, that seems to be true. And if you two end up together, I think he’ll make you happy. Which makes it easier for me to do this for you.”
Her expression goes soft as she meets my gaze. “I knew you’d eventually think so.”
Here’s what I don’t tell Lisa: It didn’t take me long to figure out that Jason’s a great guy. Which also makes it harder for me to do this for her. I’m a big girl, and I won’t kid myself: I’m suppressing my interest in Jason. For Lisa.
Which can only mean one thing: This has the potential to be a big ol’ fucking disaster.
Jason
My mother’s in the kitchen when I arrive for Sunday dinner.
I kiss the top of her head. “Hola, Mami.”
She continues to drop plantains in the pan. “Hola, mi corazón. Had a good weekend?”
“I did. Worked on that reno in Queens yesterday.”
“You make me so proud,” she says, then wipes her hands on a dishcloth and pinches my cheeks. “Even on a day off, you’re trying to do something for someone else.”
I stand there and accept her fussing because doing so is rule number one in the Code of Latinx Sons: Your mother gets to mother you as much as she wants.
When she’s done, I peek inside the fridge.
“There’s no beer,” she says. “Nelson went to get some.”
“It’s all right,” I say, leaning against the counter and eyeing the stove warily. “But the fire’s on too high. The plátanos are going to burn if you don’t turn down the heat.”
She shakes her head, pretending to be disappointed. “I created a monster when I taught you how to cook.”
“No, you created a guy who doesn’t expect anyone to make me a meal.”
“Women like that, you know. You can invite someone over and cook for them.” She shrugs her shoulders. “Just a suggestion.”
I didn’t even know the word suggestion was in her vocabulary. Still, I’m on enough of a high after my date with Vanessa that I’m willing to throw my mother a crumb just this once. “Speaking of…I took someone with me to the reno in Queens. Sort of like a date.”
She sets down the strainer and smiles. “You did? Ay, that’s wonderful, mijo. Who is she?”
“Lisa’s sister. Her name’s Vanessa.”
My mother’s smile slips into a frown. “The one who didn’t come inside Xiomara’s dressing suite to meet us?”
“She couldn’t. She was dealing with a wardrobe malfunction.”
“A what?”
“Never mind. Just…give her a chance. She’s sweet. And funny.”
“If you want me to give her a chance, then I will, but if this doesn’t work out, another person will come along. Maybe Vanessa’s just someone for now, not forever.”
“Doesn’t matter, Ma. I’m not trying to get into anything serious anyway.
I just wanted you to know that you can ease up on your plans to find the love of my life.
One, I’m not looking for that now. And two, Vanessa’s coming to the couples shower, so introducing me to a bunch of women won’t be a good idea.
Please don’t do anything to make it awkward. ”
“Me?” she says, placing a hand on her chest as if she’s offended. “Since when do I make things awkward?”
“Since all the time, Mami. Since all the time.”
She gently shoves me out of the way, grabs a spatula, and turns back to the stove. “What does Vanessa do for a living?”
“See?” I say, rolling my eyes. “Awkward.”
“I can’t ask a simple question?”
“Nothing’s ever simple with you. But if you must know—”
“I do.”
“She’s a financial planner. Just moved back home and is helping start a new office here. Before that, she was in Chicago.”
“Sounds like she has a good head on her shoulders. That’s something, at least.”
“I’m glad you approve.”
“I don’t approve. I’m just not objecting. Yet.”
“I’m starting to wonder if you’ll ever think any woman is good enough for me.”
“Lisa is,” she says, raising a brow. “The younger one.”
“Too bad I’m not interested.”
“Why not? They almost look the same.”
I burst out laughing. “Because I happen to care about more than just a person’s appearance. I like Vanessa’s personality. So that’s that.” I kiss my mother on the temple. “Just remember not to scare her off at the couples shower.”
“If it’s easy to scare her off, then she’s not the woman for you.”
“If you scare her off, I’ll never get the chance to know one way or the other.”
Just then Nelson walks into the kitchen, two six-packs in his hands. He kisses my mother’s forehead before placing the beers in the fridge. “She’s giving you a hard time again?”
“As usual,” I say.
We exchange a knowing glance.
Nelson understands our mother-son dynamic and doesn’t meddle unless he absolutely has to. He’s always present in our lives, though. Watching. Listening. As if he’s waiting for the moment he’ll be asked to step in and give his own advice. “Let me know if you need me to distract her.”
He says this with a wink and loud enough for my mother to hear.
“Go watch the game,” she tells Nelson, playfully pushing him out of the room. And then she pulls me into her arms and hugs me tightly. “I only want what’s best for you. You know that, right?”
“I know,” I say, my chin resting on the top of her head. “But it’s up to me to decide what’s best for me, okay?”
“With a little help from me?”
“No.”
“We’ll see.”
“No, you’ll see.”
This is the limit of the warning I can give my mother. I just pray she doesn’t do anything to make Vanessa wary of exploring our connection. Because for the first time in a long while, I’m interested in someone. That’s a huge step for me; I can only hope I don’t get screwed taking it.