“Get some sleep.” She leans down and kisses my forehead. My stomach tenses when her lips brush my skin. The heavy and happy feeling isback.
She retrieves the tray, looking back at me. “You know, everyone needs taking careof.”
“Thank you for the soup.” I've just realized I hadn't yet thankedher.
But Lucia shakes her head slowly, like I didn't understand her. “People need more thansoup.”
She leaves, and I lie down. I'm beat but my head is alive. Swirling and churning, conflicted feelings from a day spent being cared for by Isaac's mother. I'm a grown woman. I haven't needed anybody in a long time. I don't ask for help. I don't want it, and I've never thought I neededit.
Lucia came here today and didn't ask me what I needed. She knew. And it's clear she thinks I need more thansoup.
* * *
I’msick for three more days. Lucia comes every day to take care of me. She brings magazines to read with me and saltine crackers to munch on. I request her albondigas one more time. Isaac and Claire love the epicurean perks of living with an ill person. On the last day, when it’s clear I’m almost back to normal, I go for a walk with Lucia. The coffee shop a few streets over is our goal. They have homemade red velvet whoopie pies that are so delicious, I swear my taste buds cry when I eatone.
We're quiet until we get out of Isaac's neighborhood and onto the mainstreet.
"It's good to see you healthy again. Isaac was very worried aboutyou."
"Why? It was just the flu." I shrug my shoulders. We reach the intersection, and I push the walkbutton.
Lucia waits until I look at her, then she rolls her eyes at me. Our past few days together have taught me a lot about Lucia. She loves telenovelas (“It connects me to my heritage.”), she can't stand flies (“Do you know they throw up every time they land?”), and she rolls her eyes when she disagrees with you and doesn't want to say anything but really wants to make sure you know shedisagrees.
"What?" The walk sign appears, and wecross.
"Nothing,nothing."
Lucia and I have become friends, I think. She's Claire's grandma, but it’s more than that. We've bonded. In all of the craziness since Claire broke her arm, I didn't expect to gain afriend.
Lucia rolls her eyes again, but this time she cracks asmile.
I laugh at her. “Come on.” I hold open the door to the coffee shop. “You can tell me exactly what you think after wesit.”
The moment my butt is in the seat, she startstalking.
“I want you withIsaac.”
My mouth falls slack around my big bite of whoopie pie. I chew and swallow, using my napkin to wipe the crimson crumbs I know must decorate the corners of mymouth.
“Lucia, Isaac and I have been over this. We’re co-parents. That'sit.”
“But why? Why stopthere?”
“This situation is hard enough. We don't need to complicate it withromance.”
Lucia sits back and sips her coffee. I wait for the eye roll but it doesn'tcome.
“I get that,” she says. “Really, I do. It's just... Isaac has put work first for so long. He was determined to be a doctor, then he became one. Now what? He's always wanted to be a dad, especially since…” She stops, coughs into a fist. Alarm widens her eyes the tiniest bit. She picks up like there was never a pause in her statement. “Since his dad is soamazing.”
I let itpass.
Reaching across the table, I cover her hand with my own. She's so warm. “He's a dad now. I'm sorry it took him so long to become one. If I could’ve told him, I wouldhave.”
“I get it. Life is eventful. It has a way of racing forward without asking if you need to stop and take a breath.” She tucks her hair behind her ears and smiles wistfully. “I've been married to Isaac and Lauren's father for thirty-six years, but I remember the beginning. The fear, and uncertainty. The should I's and shouldn't I’s.” She stares down into her coffee, her eyes faraway.
Lucia is beautiful. Delicate lines border the corner of her eyes and make parentheses on either side of her mouth. She has an elegance to her. Maybe it's in the lift of her chin. Or in the confident way she talks, like she's a woman who knows. She gets it. Whateveritis. Lucia Cordova understands something Idon't.
“Your son…” I pause, mulling over my next words. Lucia looks up, back from wherever she went a moment ago. “He’s amazing, from what I can tell. But Isaac and I, we're in this awkward situation. We're parents to Claire, yet we've never been on a date.” I feel the heat in my cheeks. “I mean, that night…" I look away. Mortification fills me. How can I talk about this withher?
