Reservations required, p.20
Reservations Required, page 20
“My resume wouldn’t get me very far in any of those places, and I can’t imagine working anywhere else but here.”
Jorge looked at me as if trying to figure me out all over again.
“I’ll bet if the owners of restaurants in any of those cities ever ate your food, they’d be falling all over themselves trying to hire you. You’re a cooking prodigy.”
“Ha! Have you been talking to Tori?” Seeing the puzzled look on his face, I added, “Never mind. I may not even be able to visit a cooking school while I’m there. I’ve been meaning to call and see if I can schedule a visit. I just haven’t gotten around to it.”
“You could teach your own cooking classes. Talk to Anne. She’ll set you up to teach a PEP class or two at SCC.”
“Wait!” I shook my head. “First you think I should write a cookbook and now you want me to teach cooking classes. Where am I going to find the time to do all that?”
“Well, running off to LA is just going to take time away from your cookbook project. That’s too bad. If you assign homework to your class using recipes from your book, you’d sell a ton of books.”
“I’m glad you’ve got my future all figured out.”
“Always happy to help.” He took a strand of my hair and pushed it behind my ear. “So that’s it … museums, shopping and maybe a cooking school? What about Disneyland, Universal Studios, the Santa Monica Pier …”
“In four days? Anyway, I don’t want to go to those places by myself.”
“That’s why you should let me come with you. Otherwise, you’ll miss all the good stuff.”
“That’s okay. I’ll have done what I needed to do.”
“Which is?”
“We’ve already been through that, Jorge. I’ve done my homework, most of it anyway. After the trip, I’ll be able to say I was there and I’ll have a clearer picture of what my life would’ve been like if I hadn’t ended up in Maguey.”
He looked a little hurt. “You’re not really happy here?”
I kissed his chin. “I’ve never been happier, especially since I met you.”
“It’s a scary thought that you might’ve gone to LA and we’d never had a chance to meet.” He slapped the tour book shut and drew me to him. “Okay. I can’t stop you from doing what you need to do. But promise me you’ll call me if you run into any problems.”
“I’m calling you even if I don’t.”
Mr. and Mrs. Flores, Meme and Guerrero couldn’t make up their mind about whether to be happy for me or worried about me.
“I’ll take Lucky home with me at night and bring him back during the day,” Meme said.
“And I’ll water your garden,” Guerrero offered.
Mrs. Flores looked worried. “We’ll miss you, Lucy.”
I told them I’d be fine.
Two days later, Jorge stood with me across the street from the restaurant waiting for the bus.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” He ran to his mother’s car and came back carrying a paper sack. “Mom packed a lunch for you.”
“That’s sweet. Why don’t you bring your parents to the restaurant for dinner when I get back.”
He squeezed my hand. “Can’t you just accept a gift without always wanting to pay for it somehow?”
The bus pulled up just then and the driver hopped off to load my bag.
“I’ll call you when I get there.”
I gave him a quick kiss before boarding, found a window seat near the front and waved. Jorge waved back and gestured that he’d be waiting for my call.
This trip was much less scary than the one that had brought me to Maguey. For one thing, I had a clearer idea of where I was going and why. I had friends who knew where I was going this time. And, I didn’t have a drunk leaning on me, snoring my ear off.
I’d brought along Fred’s latest gift, The Fall of the House of Dixie. I’d flipped through the first couple of pages when he gave it to me. Decades after the Civil War ended …
“Thanks, Fred,” I’d told him. “This will help me brush up on that part of the country’s history. How did you get to know me so well so soon?”
“People are like books to me. Once I read the title and a paragraph or two, it doesn’t take me long to size them up. Anne and I recently watched the movie Lincoln and it reignited my passion for history. I hope you like it.”
As usual, he’d made a good choice for me. I was drawn in right away, but I stopped reading every once in a while to look out the window.
Around one in the afternoon I opened the lunch bag Jorge’s mom had packed for me and found a sandwich, granola bars, fruit, juice, and a card with the names and telephone numbers of her relatives. I put the card in my backpack and, after eating half the grilled veggie sandwich, drank from my water bottle and saved the juice for later.
Afterward, I looked out the window at the blue sky, the silhouette of mountain slopes in the distance and the road signs that started to pop up. The sound of the bus tires rolling along the highway soon lulled me to sleep.
I woke up as we were approaching LA. A chill ran up and down my spine. What would’ve become of me if I’d landed here instead of Maguey? Where would I be now?
The other passengers seemed to have come alive, too. I heard snatches of excited conversations and saw fingers pointing at billboards, road signs or whatever caught their owner’s attention as we made our way to the magical city.
Finally, we arrived at the bus station. I waited for the other passengers to exit the bus and took a deep breath before walking toward the door. By then, my bag was the only one left to be claimed. I picked it up and, although my mini-tour didn’t start for another couple of hours, I showed the driver the address where I was supposed to board the tour bus. He went out of his way to point me in the right direction, even walking to the curb so I could see where he was pointing. I gave him five dollars for his trouble and headed in the direction he’d told me to go.
I found LA a great place to people watch while I waited for the tour bus. When it arrived, it was already crowded with tourists. I was the only one with a bag.
“I just need to get to Hollywood,” I said to the guide.
“Maybe you should take a city bus or shuttle then,” she said. “It’ll be cheaper.”
“But I’ll get to see more this way. I’m staying at the Star Dust Inn. Can you drop me off somewhere near there?”
“No problem, hon. We’ll be going right by it. If you want to miss half the tour, it’s your choice and your money.”
“Thanks.” I took a seat next to a lady in a ruffled skirt and patent leather tap-dancing shoes.
“You running away to Hollywood?” she asked when she saw my bag.
I laughed. “Nah. I’m just a regular tourist.”
“No such thing as regular ’round here,” she said. “Name’s Daisy McPherson. Remember that name. Next time you see me, I’ll be on the big screen. I’m still waiting to be discovered, so I’m always prepared, all set to audition at the drop of a hat.” She kept yammering on and on in her Texas drawl until the people sitting in front of us turned around.
“Do you mind? We can’t hear the tour guide.”
“Hmph!” Daisy closed her eyes and stuck her chin out at them before turning to look out the window.
Like everyone else, I looked toward the sights the guide pointed out, paying particular attention when we drove along museum row, the Original Farmer’s Market and the other destinations I intended to come back to. Who cared if I missed Rodeo Drive and the mansions of the rich and famous?
“I’ll remember your name and be on the lookout for it,” I said to Daisy when the bus stopped to drop me off near my hotel.
“You won’t be disappointed, darlin’.”
After checking in and taking a few brochures from the lobby, I headed to my room, dumped all of my stuff on the floor and called Jorge. When he didn’t answer, I left a message.
“Just got to my hotel. I’m already missing you and wishing I’d taken you up on your offer. Call me.”
I’d been too excited to sleep the night before, and the naps I’d taken on the bus had just tired me out. I decided to take a shower and another quick nap before going out to explore and get dinner. After my shower, I checked for messages. Still no call from Jorge.
I set the phone on the pillow next to me and lay down. It felt good to stretch out. Before I knew it, I was asleep.
I didn’t wake up until nine the next morning. After checking for messages and seeing there weren’t any, I tried Jorge’s number again. Still no answer. I left another message.
Thinking that my friends were probably worried about me, I called the restaurant. The line was busy. I tried Meme’s number hoping that, by some slim chance, he’d heard from Jorge. I forgot that he muted his cell during work hours and checked it every half hour or so. I left a short message saying I was okay and would call back later.
I had my first and best crepe ever at The French Crepe Company, then wandered around the market, stopping to gawk at mouth-watering pastries, candy and nut displays. I bought some tea for the Floreses, fancy lavender soap for Elena, a small stuffed panda for Ricky and a recycled shopping bag to carry it all in. I kept checking my phone every few minutes and started to worry. Had I offended Jorge more than he’d let on? It just wasn’t like him to not return my calls or at least send a quick text.
I was eager to see as much of the Getty Center as I could, but the gardens drew me like magnets from the moment I arrived there. The architecture and gardens alone would make my first trip worthwhile, even if I never stepped inside the buildings to see the art.
As I made my way through the tree-lined walkway leading to the Central Garden, I was transported to another world, one in which Nana’s spirit guided me along the stream that wound around the various plants and down to the plaza, where I could almost see her moving gracefully behind the bougainvillea. I stepped to the side and stopped to listen to the water flowing down to the pool. The other visitors walking past me disappeared when I closed my eyes and breathed in the calm and beauty that surrounded me. Even then, the image of flowers, shrubs, grasses and water stayed in my mind’s eye like a photograph.
As much as I wanted to stay there, I forced myself to move on, stopping only long enough to admire the views of the city, mountains, and ocean. I lost track of time until I noticed a small group eating a picnic lunch in the courtyard. I stopped at the café and bought a sandwich and iced tea, then found an outdoor table where I let myself be hypnotized again by the magic of the place. If I hadn’t stopped in Maguey, would I eventually have found my way here to work in the restaurant or café just so I’d be surrounded by such beauty?
As I was making my way to the West Pavilion, my phone finally rang.
“Jorge,” I said. “Where have you been?
“Lucy, it’s me, Meme.” The strain in his voice caught me off guard.
“Is everything okay?”
He didn’t answer.
“Meme, what’s wrong?” A group of school children walking behind me bumped into me.
“You need to get back here as soon as you can.”
“What happened?” I felt my hands go cold.
“Jorge’s been injured.”
“How?” I yelled into the phone.
“All I know is that he crashed his motorcycle.”
I started sobbing. Everything was suddenly spinning around me.
“Lucy!”
“I’m leaving right now,” I whispered.
“Call me when you get here. I’ll drive you to the hospital.”
“Can you pick me up in Saguaro?”
“Sure. Call me before you get there. I’ll be waiting for you.”
I somehow managed to stumble to the tram and find my way back to the bus station. The whole time, I kept replaying Meme’s words in my head. Did he not want to tell me, or did he really not know how badly Jorge had been hurt? My heart was racing as the bus crept along mile after painful mile. If only I hadn’t gone to LA. What had I been looking for anyway, when everything that mattered to me was in Maguey?
I asked the bus driver where the bus stopped in Saguaro and started trying to call Meme when we were still thirty miles from town, until I was able to get through. He was waiting for me when I arrived. I ran into his arms and started to cry again.
He held me close for a moment. “I don’t have Jorge’s parents’ phone number, and the hospital wouldn’t give me any information on him. I’ll drive you there now.” He helped me into his car. “Where’s your luggage?”
Until then, I hadn’t given my bag a moment’s thought. “I left it behind. Tell me what happened.”
“I didn’t want to upset you any more than necessary,” Meme said. “It was Rigo who forced him off the road.”
I started sobbing uncontrollably. “It’s all my fault.”
“Lucy, don’t even think that.”
“How can he keep getting away with his crimes?”
“This time he was caught in the act, at least on video. A guy was driving behind them, watching Rigo trying to force Jorge off the road, until Jorge lost control of his bike. The driver’s girlfriend videotaped it. It’s been in the news all day. Rigo’s face, truck description and license plate number have been plastered all over the TV screen. The policeman who talked to the reporter said they think he’s in Mexico.”
I dried my eyes with the tissues Meme handed me and tried to calm down as we drove into the hospital parking lot.
Meme went with me as far as the waiting room. “I’ll wait here for you. Stay as long as you need to.”
I hesitated for a second or two before opening the door to Jorge’s hospital room. Jaime was standing at the window. He came and put his arms around me and we both broke down.
“How is he?” I asked between sobs.
Jaime wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “He has a broken nose, jaw, collarbone, several shattered bones in his right leg from the bike falling on him and there’s some internal bleeding.” He started to cry again. “He’s been unconscious the whole time.”
I hugged him again. “How are your parents?”
“They’ve been by his side since he was admitted. I finally convinced them to go home and rest.”
I went to stand by the bed. If I hadn’t known it was Jorge, I wouldn’t have recognized him. His handsome face was bruised and swollen, and there was a bandage across his nose.
I leaned over to kiss his cheek. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
Jaime put his hand on my shoulder. I turned to face him.
“I love your brother.” It was the first time I’d said it to anyone. “If it weren’t for me, this wouldn’t have happened to him. It’s all my fault.”
Jaime wrinkled his brow. “I don’t see how this could be your fault. I’ve never seen Jorge as happy as he’s been since he met you.” He tried to smile despite his bloodshot eyes. “Our parents thought you were the best thing that ever happened to him. Mom kind of lost it, though, when she heard that guy had harassed you in the past.”
“How did she know? Jorge said he didn’t tell her.”
“Apparently, he mentioned it to Buster. When Buster saw the video, he went berserk. That’s when he told Mom and Dad about the other incidents. I guess Mom just needed someone to blame. Unfortunately, she’s blaming you.”
I put my hand on Jorge’s shoulder and said to Jaime, “Believe me, I’d give anything to undo this. Jorge wanted to go to LA with me. If I hadn’t been so stubborn about needing to go by myself …”
“Stop blaming yourself, Lucy. It sounds like this guy was determined to hurt you any way he could, even if it was through Jorge. It would’ve happened sooner or later and, if you’d been with him, you might be lying in a hospital bed too.” He shot a nervous look at the door. “Look, Mom and Dad will be here any minute. It might be better for you to go downstairs and wait for me. I’ll drive you home.”
“Thanks, Jaime. My friend Meme drove me here. He’s in the lobby waiting for me.”
“Go home, then. Get some rest. I’ll call you the minute Jorge wakes up.”
I looked back at Jorge and started to cry again.
Jaime hugged me. “He’s going to be okay. He’s a fighter and now that he’s got you, he has an even bigger reason to fight. I’ll let you know when the coast is clear.”
I nodded and made my way back to Meme.
“I’ll take you to your apartment to pick up whatever you need,” Meme said. “While you’re doing that, I’ll get Lucky and then drive you both to my house. Beto’s orders.”
“I’ll just be a minute,” I said when we reached the restaurant.
Lucky acted like he hadn’t seen me in years. I played with him for a while until he calmed down a bit. Meme took the rest of the day off and, after he took me to his house, he went out to pick up a pizza. Elena insisted I eat a slice. After we ate, I gave them their gifts and watched Ricky play with his stuffed toy.
“I didn’t have a chance to get any more gifts. Not even for Jorge.”
“We don’t need gifts,” Meme said. “And you’re the only gift Jorge needs.”
Elena was quiet for a change. At ten, she said, “Meme put your stuff in the spare bedroom. You may not be able to sleep but try to get some rest. I’ll drive you to the hospital in the morning.”
“Jorge’s mother doesn’t want me to see him,” I said. “She thinks it’s my fault this happened.”
Elena came to put her arms around me. “Of course, she’s got to be out of her mind with worry, but everyone knows it’s not your fault. Try to get some sleep. We’ll figure something out. Even if we have to sneak you in when she’s not there.”
Elena’s words kept going through my mind as I lay staring at the darkness, seeing Jorge’s bruised face and broken body. Each time I closed my eyes, I was drawn into a kaleidoscope of colors exploding before my eyes like shooting stars, filling the darkness with their brightness, each one carrying off bits of me and scattering me throughout the universe. Here I thought I’d left all this violence behind when I left Las Nubes. But angry nuts like Pedro and Rigo seemed to be everywhere. At some point, I fell asleep listening to Lucky snoring peacefully on the floor next to the bed.
