I smiled at that, shaking my head. “It’s fine. Sounds like they miss you a lot, and that they’re very worried about the lack of guandules in Texas.”
She exhaled and I saw her put her head back on the seat. I wish I could say I didn’t perv on how the swell of her breasts looked with her head thrown back like that, but I’d be lying.
She smiled sadly at whatever came to mind, then rolled her head to look at me. “Right after the disaster with Matt—that’s my ex—I went to the store to get some stuff to make some food. I really wanted sancocho. You know what that is?”
I scoffed at that, because really. “Julia, I ate Dominican rice and beans, maduros, and pernil at least once a week my entire childhood.”
“Damn, your accent is pretty good.” She sounded impressed.
“I can manage in español,” I offered as she gave me a narrowed look from under very long eyelashes.
“You’re full of surprises.” She sounded legitimately perplexed. “Anyway, I went to like three Latinx food stores and couldn’t find the ingredients or even a can of guandules to make moro, so I called my mom from the car bawling. It wasn’t really about the sancocho though.”
I couldn’t even relate to what it was like to call your mother in a time of need, but I could hear how low that moment had felt for her. “That was the last straw, huh?”
“Yes, I felt dumb, trapped, homesick, and I just wanted something that was familiar and when I couldn’t even do that I lost it. My mother and abuela need to feel like they can fix all my problems, and sending bags and bags of dry peas makes them feel like they are.”
There seemed to be more there, and I thought she wouldn’t go into it, but to my surprise after a moment she started talking again. “I miss them, but it’s hard for them to let me go, and that makes it harder for me to move on, to feel settled here. What you said before about never leaving the city, it’s the same for me basically.” She leaned forward, I assumed to get a look at my reaction, and kept explaining. “I’ve travelled, of course, but I haven’t really lived anywhere other than New York. Still, in a weird way, I’ve felt more like myself here than ever before.”
I made a noise at that, curious about what she meant. It seemed to me that with a family like hers, there really would be no place like home. Everything would pale in comparison. “How so?”
I turned to glance at her for a second and found her looking at me, her eyes not as humorous as they’d been before. “There is no standard. No one to watch if I’m living up to my dad and my mom’s example or whatever ‘rules for proper brown girls’ are being dictated on the block.”
“I get that,” I said and she laughed, the “yeah, right” loud and clear. “I mean obviously not the brown girl part. But the feeling that I couldn’t be my own man if I stayed too close to them.”
I didn’t add that my fear came from dreading I’d turn into my father, not because I had anyone to disappoint.
“Yeah.” She looked out the window, and when she spoke it was soft, almost like she was saying it more to herself than to me. “I’m just Julia here.” She didn’t have to explain it; I understood what she meant. Here I felt like I could finally think about what I wanted, not what would make things easier for my sister. I wasn’t responsible for anyone but myself for a change, and even though those obligations still loomed large, I felt freer. I almost told her that, but the ballpark was straight ahead so I pointed to it instead.
“We’re here. The VIP suite tickets get some parking garage passes. So we don’t have to walk in the sun.”
It was October but it was hot as hell out, and this Dallas heat wasn’t anyone’s friend.
Julia nodded and shifted in her seat, looking ahead. “I’ve never been to this park, but I love a ball game on a Sunday afternoon. My family and I always went to a few games each season.”
“Yankees or Mets? Because you got me all confused with this lack of loyalty to your borough,” I teased.
“Yankees, damn. I was in the middle of saying thank you, Mr. Rude,” she countered with obvious fake annoyance. “I’ve never been in an executive suite. This is really generous of you.”
I didn’t say anything as I maneuvered the car into a parking spot in a covered garage connected to the stadium. When I powered down the car, I turned around to look at her.
“I’m glad you took me up on it.”
She looked ahead, clearly not wanting to make too much eye contact at that precise moment. “I almost didn’t.” There was no edge to how she said it, just bemusement, like she still couldn’t figure out how she’d ended up in my car.
Julia looked at me for a moment longer and I wondered what she was thinking. She looked torn, like she wanted to say something, but at the end she just grabbed her purse and got out of the car. I did the same but before walking up to her, I stepped back, just so I could watch her. I didn’t want to creep, but those brown toned legs went on forever. When I looked at her feet, I could not help the smile tugging at my lips.
“Silver glitter Chucks. I approve.” She preened and I almost moved in and nipped at those lips. Her lipstick was a deep red, that same shade that looked like wine, and I wanted a taste.
“Thanks. I thought the gold ones would clash with my Yankees colors.”
I bit my lip to keep from grinning at how serious she sounded and gestured toward the elevators that would take us to the suites. “Despite my feelings about your lack of love for the best NYC team, I do admire your dedication. I feel like I’m not properly representing with just my Mets hat. I’m not doing Queens justice.”
She tapped my shoulder as we walked and I could’ve sworn there was an electric shock. This woman had me feeling too many things. I’d seen what she’d built for the kids in her program. Her dedication to them. The love she had for her family. And now I knew what her ass looked like in cutoffs.
I was fucking doomed.
“Why so sad?” she asked, pulling me out of my head and back to her. I wondered if she was about to get serious, but when I looked at her, the grin on her face told me she was one hundred percent still on her bullshit. “Next time I’ll bring you one of my Yankees fitteds.”
