“Jorge?”
“Yeah. Javier definitely decided payment for his help keeping my plants watered was to pick off all the peppers and tomatoes. I’d hoped to use some tomatoes for the dinner I planned to cook you tonight.”
“You were going to cook dinner?”
“Yes,chiquita, I do manage to keep the wolf from the door.”
“The wolf from the door? What does that mean?”
“It’s an idiom I learned from an English friend. Maybe it has something to do with the three little pigs, but I don’t know. It just means to keep from being hungry.”
“Ah, I’m pretty good with British idioms since I went to university there, but clearly I either need a refresher, or there are some I never knew. Daddy, remember though, I’m German. We don’t do peppers like you do in Latin America. We have some spicy foods, but probably nothing like you’re used to.”
“I meant bell peppers, but that’s good to know. If I set you ablaze, it won’t be with peppers.”
“Really? What would it be with?”
He waggles his eyebrows. “My tongue or my cock, of course.”
I’m sure my cheeks are radiating as much heat as those spicy peppers I don’t like. I have no idea why that comment out of all the ones we’ve shared makes me blush, but it does.
He gathers a few vegetables in his arms, and we head back downstairs. We’re efficient in the kitchen as he points to where things are, and I help him make dinner. What would’ve taken him an hour to prep alone is in the oven within twenty minutes.It’s something small and probably unremarkable, but it makes me feel like we’re a real—a normal—couple.
We’ve just cleared the table and are in the middle of doing dishes when his doorbell rings. He glances at the security monitor, so I look too. I recognize Luciana. Jorge hurries to dry his hands before answering the door. I giggle along with Luciana when Jorge lifts her off her feet as he hugs her.
“Mamá.”
There’s nothing short of relief and happiness in his voice with that one word. I realize it’s been more than a month since the last time he saw her. Nothing about him screams mama’s boy, except for right now as he kisses her cheek and gives her an extra squeeze before putting her back on her feet. They don’t let go immediately until she pats him on the back. Then they step away from each other. This side of Jorge confirms what I suspected between showing me his greenhouse and seeing him with his mother.
I’m certain now I’ve fallen in love with him. It hasn’t taken that long, but it’s been long enough.
I dry my hands as well and step out of the kitchen.
“Anneliese, it’s so nice to see you again.”
She offers me a hug that’s nearly as good as my mom’s. Immediately, she feels like someone I can rely on. I suspect there’ll be many times when I do. At least now, at the beginning, as I learn to navigate life in New York and as—I guess—a Cartel woman.
We let go of each other, and the three of us walk into the living room. Luciana takes a seat in the rocker recliner as Jorge and I sit on the rocking loveseat. The living room furniture is certainly designed for comfort. While much of the decor is rather minimalist, it’s still a very welcoming space. I can tell that not just the garden is Jorge’s reprieve from life outside his frontdoor. It’s relaxing for someone who contends with anxiety. It’s a good thing he has these spaces.
“Mamá.”
Jorge’s clipped word sounds so aggrieved my head whips over to look at him, but he’s staring at Luciana.
“What did your brother do now, Jorge?”
Luciana’s tone is one I’m sure she used countless times with Jorge and his brothers, but when they were much younger.
“Javier stole all my peppers and tomatoes. Make him give them back,Mamá.”
“You really think I can convince your older brother to give those back to you? He’s probably already eaten all of them.”
“But,Mamá, it’s not fair.”
“Jorge, didn’t your brother come over here to help you? Didn’t he water your plants and make sure everything was okay upstairs?”
“Yes, but,Mamá?—”
“Don’t you think it’s only fair to share with your brother since he helped you?”
