“I hope they were happy and feel motivated to continue funding us.”
“They were very impressed by you and the work you’re doing with the families.” She pointed at the vision boards that the families had done together. We’d had them put together images of the futures they saw for themselves, and they were hopeful and bright, even under the seemingly never-ending challenges immigrant families endured these days.
“The Sturms took photos of them to show the board. The consultant also shared how impressed he was by what he’s seen so far.” She shrugged and looked around as if to make sure we were alone. “Let’s hope their enthusiasm is enough, because Phil seems set on having an issue with this program.”
“I hope so too. But if they need more convincing, we’ll just have to get creative.” I was not into doing show-and-tell with our families, but also wasn’t going to let that asshole Phil take us down without fighting for my program.
That brought out the first real smile from Gail I’d seen in days. “You’re right. This matters too much to let us get bowled over by a dude named Phil.” With that, Gail, in her three-inch heels and perfect makeup, grabbed the remaining container and turned her head toward the door. “Here, let’s get this stuff packed away so that you can go home.”
I laughed trailing after her. “That’s it, boss. We got this.” I sounded a lot more confident than I felt, but if there was a time to fake it ’til you made it, it was now. And giving Gail an extra pep in her step couldn’t hurt.
“It’s Thanksgiving tomorrow!” she exclaimed as if only now realizing it. “Are you doing anything fun?”
We were walking down the hallway to my office as we talked. “I’m taking it easy this weekend. Since I’m going home next month for Christmas. I decided to stay here and just take it easy.” My traitorous brain immediately brought up the image of Rocco sitting at home by himself too.
Nope. Not allowed. No fucking way.
“Take your ‘me’ time when you can get it,” Gail said as she set the container she’d carried back on the floor of my office and waved a quick goodbye. I rushed to get everything in order before I got stopped by someone else.
On my way out to the parking lot, I saw a text from Rocco congratulating me on a great presentation and wishing me a relaxing weekend. He didn’t mention hanging out over the weekend and I wondered if that was part of the reason why he ran out of the visit without even saying goodbye.
I got in the car and instead of answering his text, I called my mom. I was hard up enough for a distraction that I was volunteering to be guilted by my entire family for not flying home for Thanksgiving. But if it would get my mind off Rocco, I was doing it. I started pulling out of the parking lot and used the Bluetooth to call, and my mom picked up after the second ring.
“Y que, Mami? En que estas?” Asking my mother what she was up to the day before a major holiday would probably involve a long string of outrageous stories of clients at her hair salon. Exactly the kind of deterrent I needed in order to keep from opening that text app and asking Rocco to come to my house.
“Alo! Oh dime, mija?” She sounded distracted, which was not exactly unusual.
“Mami, que haces?”
“Nada.” She clearly was not doing nothing, since there was noise like she was on a busy street and I could hear voices. But I wasn’t going to get testy and take a chance on her telling me to call her when I got my attitude adjusted. Talking to someone who was not Rocco Fucking Quinn, or about him, was my number one priority at the moment.
“Julita, te llamo después. I have to go, mija.”
“Pero, Mami!” I protested as my mom ended the call after only a few seconds. I guess my family were doing their thing without me. It shouldn’t have hurt, but it did.
I parked my car in my building’s lot trying not to feel too sorry for myself. Moping around was not going to help me any. I felt lonely and needy, and I couldn’t tell if it was because I missed my family, or because I wanted Rocco. No, that was a lie. I knew the answer to that, it was both. I wanted my familyandI wanted him. Almost as badly, which was so fucking foolish I wondered if getting dumped by Matt had taught me anything at all. I got out of my car lost in my thoughts, and was so in my feelings they caught me completely by surprise.
Just as I was about to walk up to the little porch by my door, my father and sister jumped out of the bushes behind me and almost gave me a freaking cardiac episode.
“Surprise!”
I let out a shriek so loud, I knew the neighbors were going to come to see what was happening.
My grandma and my mother walked out from behind the stairs leading to the upper-level apartments, with enormous grins on their faces.
“What are you guys doing here?” I asked, not sure how to react. They were all here. My entire family.
My dad was the first to grab me into a tight hug, and it felt so good. I hadn’t seen them since my visit on Fourth of July weekend. I’d still been mopey and out of sorts after the breakup with Matt. But now, even with all this shit with Rocco and the IPO going on, I was kind of excited for them to get to see my place.
“Papi, pero y como llegaron?” I asked my dad as he went in for a second hug. His bald head was covered in his always present Yankees fitted. “I just talked to Mami.” I turned to her as she and Abuela grabbed me for hugs next.
“Ay, mija, we were already here!” she said, chuckling as Abuela pulled me toward the door. They had all their bags sitting on the little bistro set I had in front of the apartment.
Abuela started looking at the plants I had set on the corner. “Julita, these look beautiful, mama. I didn’t know you liked to garden.” She was wearing a thick parka even though it was in the sixties, her dark brown face only now at seventy-five lined with a few wrinkles. I knew under the parka she was probably wearing a jacket to match her gray trousers and under that a colorful top that most likely was the same color as her bright orange flats and dangly earrings. My grandmother planned her travelling outfits like she was getting on a plane to go to a meeting at the UN. She was constantly horrified when she saw people in airports walking around in their pajamas.
“Abuelita, you look amazing. You cut your hair!” She’d let her hair go gray in the last few years, and she was sporting a pixie cut now. Most likely my mom’s idea. My gorgeous grandmother was my mom’s living model and very willing guinea pig for any new styles she wanted to try.
She carefully patted the top of her hair. “You like it?”
