It was a plain, cinderblock building that looked like it had been there a long time. Across the front of the building was a sign that said Los Venturas Community Center. We went hand in hand through the front door and were greeted by a plump, elderly woman in a floral dress. She clapped her hands with surprise and joy as she called out, “Jack! You came!” He only winced slightly as she enveloped him in a tight hug. “It’s so good to see you! It’s been so long,” she crooned as she gave him a once over. Then she noticed me and said, “Jack, who’s your friend?”
He drew me closer to him and said, “Mrs. Morales, this is my girlfriend, Eve. She doesn’t speak much English.”
I extended the hand that wasn’t holding Jack’s. “Enchanté”
Mrs. Morales gave me a quick once over and a warm smile, then leaned in toward Jack, whispering, “Ooh, she’s lovely. Congratulations!”
Jack gave a smile and said, “Thank you. Where are we supposed to go?”
“Oh, where are my manners?” Giving a girlish laugh, Mrs. Morales pointed down the hallway. Jack thanked her and we walked toward the source of the buzz of conversation. Double doors led into what appeared to be a multi-purpose room. Painted lines of a basketball court covered half the room. Basketball hoops were affixed to the walls at either end. On one side of the room was a small stage. There were several dozen folding chairs set up in front of the stage, and behind the chairs were about ten round tables with paper tablecloths and paper flower centerpieces.
There were easels set up with story boards—Nick’s life in pictures. We started at the left with the baby pictures, and worked our way through missing front teeth, baseball games, science fair projects, camping trips, prom, and graduation. Jack paused and inspected each one, occasionally making a comment under his breath to me about his memories.
The next set of boards were Nick and Valentina’s wedding. The birth of their two little girls. Nick with his work truck, proudly showing off his tools. Nick waving from the top of a roof.
Jack turned away, his face taut. I knew he had a lot to process there, so I just gave his hand a squeeze to let him know he had support. He turned to me with a small smile, leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Thanks for this.”
That sent shivers skittering down my spine. I turned and whispered back to him. “No problem. You’ve got zis Jack.”
After shaking a few more hands and smiling through a few more introductions, we grabbed seats in the back row. We received plenty of side-eye examination, but no one made a scene about Jack being famous, or having been the losing side of the love triangle with the deceased and his wife.
The memorial was not religious or formal. People who had been close to Nick took turns standing up to talk about him. There were stories from his time in school when he apparently had had a bit of a wild side. Everyone was laughing at the recounting of Nick pulling up to the Dairy Queen drive through in a chicken costume, asking for a chicken burger and saying, “Make sure it’s no one I know.” A co-worker talked of his time working with Nick, how he was always a dependable, stand-up guy. His mother’s next-door neighbor, a sweet, fluffy older lady, nattered on for a bit about how Nick always mowed her lawn for her and would never take payment.
And then came Valentina. I was eager to see the woman who had won young Jack’s heart. She must have been gorgeous. At one time. Currently, however, she looked like she had a strong and enduring relationship with doughnuts, Diet Coke, and Doritos. Her heart-breaking days were a distant memory. Her black hair hung straight down to her shoulders, and her carefully applied makeup showed no signs of smudging or distress. Either this woman had industrial grade water-proof mascara, phenomenal self-control, or she was not actually feeling the grief that she portrayed.
As she spoke of their life together and how happy they had been, dabbing at her dry eyes with a handkerchief, I felt Jack’s hand tighten on mine. I glanced sideways at him and saw the muscles in his jaw tense. “What?” I questioned softly.
His lips pressed together then he answered in a whisper, “All that crap she’s talking about? That was her. That was all she wanted. That wasn’t Nick. He wanted to travel and see the world, not stay in the same tiny town and put roofs on tiny houses.” His gaze darkened and I could feel the anger coming off him in waves.
“Jack, zat was his choice. If he did it to make ze woman he loved happy, zen he was happy.” I wasn’t 100% certain of that, but it didn’t hurt to try to convince him that Nick had been satisfied with his life.
As soon as the speakers were done, Jack rose abruptly and headed for the beverages table. I waved away his offer of a drink and he grabbed a beer. There was a queue forming for the banquet table laden with homemade love offerings of food. People clutched their paper plates and plastic forks as they inched forward, speculatively scanning the spread.
“Would you like some food?” I asked, hoping to distract Jack as he gulped his beer. Also wishing to soften the landing of that beer. I hoped we were not heading for an ugly confrontation, as so often happens when grief and alcohol collide.
He shook his head. “Maybe later.” Setting down his empty beer bottle, he grabbed another and pulled my hand. “Come on, I want you to meet Mrs. Lopez. She was my first piano teacher. I didn’t find out till later, but when my dad died, she never charged my mom for lessons. She’s a wonderful lady and I owe a lot to her.”
Threading our way through the chattering crowd he pulled out a chair for me at one of the tables. Already seated was a kind-looking couple in their 60’s. The gentleman, Mr. Lopez, I assumed, stood as I was seated, then resumed his seat when Jack sat next to me.
“Jack, it’s so good to see you!” Mrs. Lopez trilled. She had a high, soft voice and her face broke into a beaming grin as she leaned over to hug him. “I have missed you, you naughty boy. But I keep track of you and know what you’re up to, even if you don’t come visit like you should.”
Jack gave a guilty shrug and said, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Lopez, Mr. Lopez. I’ve been… busy.”
“I should say so, Jack!” she responded. “All over the world you’ve been busy. I can see why you don’t have time for boring old Arizona.” Then, looking over his shoulder at me, I saw a sparkle light up her eyes. “And who is your friend, Jack? Please introduce us properly.”
Jack leaned back and laid an arm across my shoulders, giving me a little squeeze. (Come on poker face, don’t fail me now!) “This is my girlfriend, Eve. She’s French and speaks very little English, so please excuse her for not joining in the conversation.” Gesturing towards the seated couple he told me, “Mr. and Mrs. Lopez.”
I reached a hand across to delicately take the elder lady’s. “Enchanté, Madame Lopez, Monsieur Lopez.” She patted my hand with her own soft, plump hand. Speaking much louder than she had been, she said, “We’re so pleased to meet you, Eve.”
Rubbing a hand across his stubble, possibly to hide a smile, Jack said, “She’s French, not deaf, Mrs. Lopez.”
She rolled her eyes and waved a hand as if to brush away her mistake. “Of course she is. Anyway, she’s a lovely girl and I’m glad you could bring her, Jack.”
A corner of his mouth curved up as he looked at me and he nodded, “As am I.” It made my heart do a little pitter-patter tap dance. That smile, the one that could heat up a stadium, and he was smiling it for me!
Jack excused us and led me to the now almost empty food table line. We filled two plates with delicious smelling food. Even though we were the tail end of the line, there was still plenty. It was difficult to choose between the homemade tortillas, the beans and rice, the chicken casserole oozing with cheese, shredded beef tacos, tamales, and chili rellenos. I was also overwhelmed with the number of desserts—cakes, cookies, bread pudding, and pies. I would have burst if I ate even a quarter of the choices, but I wanted to make sure my plate had a good representation of the offerings, so that I wouldn’t offend anyone.
Jack filled his plate and grabbed another beer. I took a glass of lemonade. All of the seats were now taken, so we put our plates on the stage and leaned against it for support. As we ate, Jack kept up a running commentary under his breath about the people around us. Who he’d gone to school with. Who had been his neighbors, teachers, and coaches.
