Brain twister, p.3
Amor in the 305, page 3
He takes one of my curls in his fingers and begins twirling and wrapping it around his finger. “Sí. In many ways, Miami reminds me of Cuba.”
“How so?”
“The people. El mar. Being so close to the water. It’s why I live in Miami Beach.” He gives me a lopsided grin.
“Do you live close by?”
His head shakes. “No too far from here.”
I feel my phone vibrate in my purse and stick my hand in to grab it and see a text message from Melida.
Melida: All OK?
“Sorry. Melida’s checking in and making sure I’m okay.”
“She’s a good friend to look out for you.”
Sol: Yes. Be back soon
I toss my phone back into my pockabook and peek up at Mr. Handsome. “Yeah, she definitely is. I should probably go, I still have to pack.”
“I know you leave tomorrow, but I want to see you again. Tú me cuadras.” He extends his hand and traces my jawline, his rough fingers a stark contrast to the gentleness of his touch.
“I’m not sure what that means or when I’ll be back in Miami,” I tell him. His gaze locks with mine and I swallow, my nerves coming alive and lighting up from within. My hands fidget on my lap, fingers rubbing with each other when he takes my left hand in both of his, enveloping and stroking it. I shift in my seat, putting some space between us.
Amaury leans into me; his scent mixed with the salty ocean air is intoxicating. “Tú me cuadras means I like you Sol, a lot.” The thumping in my chest intensifies and I want Mr. Handsome to kiss me, although I shouldn’t because I barely know him. Despite us being strangers, I feel oddly at ease with him. Instead of kissing me, he rests his forehead against mine and rubs the tips of our noses. We take each other in. The rhythm of our breaths synchronizes.
Then his lips brush against mine, caressing and savoring them, and his whiskers tickle the skin around my mouth. His tongue glides across the length of my upper lip before he takes it away. He’s teasing me with his chaste kisses, stimulating every inch of my body, my nerve endings firing, my core igniting in heat.
Soft.
Sensual.
Sexy.
Each swipe of his lips hypnotizes me, luring me in.
And then he stops. My eyes drop to his mouth and my breath is short. He’s tormenting me and I don’t want our kisses to end. I’m tempted to grasp his face and devour him; I want to taste his tongue, feel it pry me open and explore my mouth. Instead, he separates from me and drags his nose along my neckline before raising his head and locking his eyes with mine.
“When will I see you again?” he asks, breaking the spell he’s cast upon me while lazily grazing my cheek with his thumb.
I swallow the lump in my throat and force myself to speak. “I’m not sure.”
“I can have your number?” he asks. I’m hesitant to give it to him. I have no reason to doubt his sincerity, and we did just share a fiery kiss, but am still weary from everything I’ve been through.
“Why don’t you give me your number and I’ll call you.” He eyes me, contemplating my words.
“Está bien. I give you mine, even though yo se que today is the last time I’ll see you.”
He’s probably right. I barely know him and the last thing I need right now is to get involved in a relationship. “We don’t know if that’s true. I may come back to Miami and who knows what could happen.” I stick my hand inside my purse to grab my phone and save his number.
CHAPTER THREE
Soledad
Our flight home is uneventful and when we exit the terminal, the bitter cold air smacks me, a gust of wind cutting across my cheeks like a sharp blade. I pull my scarf tight and zip up my jacket before I continue walking. One thing I will not miss are the long cold days. We’re in spring but it still feels like winter outside with these below freezing temperatures despite it being early April.
We catch the bus to the long-term parking area, load up the car, and drive off. Melida is driving and she’ll first drop Jestine and Krissa since they’re roommates. I had left my car at Melida’s so I’ll drive back to her place with her.
When we pull into Melida’s driveway, I see it. My car’s tires are flat. All four of them, which only means they’ve been slashed, again. It’s now the fourth time he’s done it and why I left my car at Melida’s house while we were in Miami, in hopes of this not happening. Motherfucker!
“I can’t believe he did this again,” I say, defeat overpowering me as I slump in my seat.
“What an asshole! And he knows we can’t prove it’s him, so he keeps getting away with it,” Melida adds.
“I can’t keep on like this. It’s exhausting, and expensive. This is exactly why I want to move!” I sigh, and lay my head back into my seat, squeezing my eyes to fight back the tears threatening to let free.
“Spend the night here and we’ll deal with this in the morning,” Melida suggests.
Melida’s dad sent a tow truck to pick up my car and take it back to his shop. I guess I should consider myself lucky he’s a mechanic and owns his own place, at least it saves me some money on labor. After I watch my car drive off on a flatbed tow truck, Melida drops me at home.
The good energy and relaxation I had achieved the past few days in Miami evaporated in minutes when I saw my car last night. Once inside, I deadbolt both locks, kick my boots off, and roll my suitcase into my bedroom. I pad my way to the kitchen and put on the kettle to drink Yerba Mate, or Mate as it’s more commonly known, and scoop the tea leaves into the gourd. Yerba Mate is an herbal tea made from twigs and leaves and drank from a gourd and bombilla, a special straw to filter the leaves. This is yet another tradition I learned with my mother, as drinking Mate is traditional in Argentina and throughout South America. It’s my caffeine beverage of choice and I often drink it throughout the day for a pick-me-up.
After placing the gourd, kettle, and trivet on my coffee table, I plop onto the couch. I decide to call my mother because I need to break the news to her.
“Hola,” she says.
“Hi, Ma. I’m home.”
“Why do you sound like that? ¿Qué pasó?”
“Yesterday when we got to Melida’s house, my tires were slashed, again,” I groan. I’m so defeated by this continually happening I’m past being angry about it.
“¿Otra vez? Did you call the police?”
“Yes, again, and no, I didn’t. Last time I called them all they did was write a report. They already told me there’s nothing they can do if I don’t have any proof it’s him.”
“Entonces, what will you do?”
I take a deep breath, inhaling through my nose in an attempt to ground myself. She’s not going to like what I have to say. “I’m moving.”
“Moving? ¿A donde?” she asks, raising her tone.
I shift my body, bringing my legs up onto the couch, and crossing them. She’s gonna flip out, no matter how I tell her where I’m moving to. May as well rip the Band-Aid off.
“Miami.”
“¿Qué?” she shrieks. “¿Pero por qué tan lejos?”
Her reaction is exactly what I expected—she isn’t happy with what I told her. I take another deep breath to calm my voice. I’m frustrated but don’t want to take it out on her. “Ma, Miami isn’t that far, just a three-hour flight away. Besides, I don’t feel safe here anymore.” Part of the reason my mother doesn’t understand my wanting to move is because she doesn’t know the truth about Carmine, only bits and pieces of what truly happened. I never wanted to share any of it with her—still don’t.
“I can never walk anywhere alone, and no matter what I try, my tires keep getting slashed. What if he tries something worse next time? If I move to a new city I can start over and keep a low profile. Eventually he has to move on, right?”
“Pero Soli, how drastic!” she exclaims, yet I can still detect the tremor in her voice.
“What choice do I have?”
“No se. We can think of something, estoy segura!”
“No Ma, we can’t, and there’s no way you can be sure of anything. It’s been nearly a year, and nothing has changed. How many times do we need to have the same conversation? I’m done waiting for the next thing to happen. I have to make a change!”
“If you leave, me quedo sola,” she whispers, her voice cracking. This is how my mom is. She wants the best for me yet has no issues with laying the guilt on thick in hopes it’ll persuade me to do what she wants.
“You won’t be alone. You have your sisters, and brother. You’re with one of them most of the time anyway.”
My mother moved to Boston in the sixties after one of her brothers had visited family and decided to stay, because the opportunities were better in Boston than in Balcarce, the small town she grew up in in the province of Buenos Aires. Once my uncle established himself in the states, set up with a job and a place to live, he had my mother and aunt join him. My Tio Carlo, Tia Flora, and Tia Olga all live within minutes from my mom’s house. The four of them are inseparable. My mother is also extremely close to Tio Carlos’ wife, and many nights they all meet up to play Canasta gathered around someone’s table until the wee hours of the morning. Her other brothers and sisters, all eight of them, still live in Argentina and she goes to visit often.
“No es lo mismo, you know that” she says in a softer tone.
“Ma, I know it’s not the same, but after coming home to four slashed tires, my decision is made,” I say, my voice getting louder as I speak. “Returning home from a relaxing vacation to find my tires slashed again! It ruined everything, and I can’t do it anymore! Please, just support me. I’m gonna do it anyway; it’ll be easier if you don’t fight me on it.” My raised voice coupled with the strong tone of my words is the only way I’ll get through to my mother. The only way I can get her to end the guilt trip and really listen to what I’m saying.
There’s silence on her end of the phone, but I can hear her heavy breaths as she’s contemplating my words and letting the idea of my move settle in.
“Bueno hijita mía,” she whispers, the words of endearment barely audible. “You know I love you and support you. ¿No me gusta but what choice do I have?” My lips curl upward, happy she gave in quickly this time.
“I know you don’t like it, but you’ll see it’s what’s best for me. Everything will work out fine. Thank you, Ma. I love you.”
“Okay, Soli. I only want what’s best for you but I’m selfish too and I’ll miss you.”
“Why don’t you come over later around five, para que me cocines? You can make a pastel de papa. I haven’t had it in a while and it’s a perfect day for it.” My mother’s favorite thing to cook is shepherd’s pie and with it being a cold day, it’s the perfect meal.
Five Months Later
I invited Melida, Jestine, and Krissa over to help me pack and hang out. I’m going to miss them so much. Although they planned a going away get-together for me next weekend, this is the last time just the four of us will be together. It’ll be the first time in our lives we’re separated for an extended period. Thinking about it too much hurts my chest but I know I have to do it.
After we got back from Miami and I broke the news to my mom, I began planning for this move by searching for apartments, neighborhoods, and price ranges. I needed to budget for the move and searching for apartments would help me know what I was getting myself into. Krissa’s friend, the manager at the Betsy Hotel, has been helpful with answering questions about neighborhoods and even hooked me up with a realtor to help me find an apartment when the time comes. It’s made getting ready for my move south easier now that I’ll have someone in Miami helping me.
“Are you taking these?” Krissa asks, holding up a set of candlestick holders that were displayed on the fireplace mantle. I can still vividly see the day we got into an argument, and he hurled one of them at me. It was the first time I decided to tell the girls about the real Carmine.
“No. Carmine’s sister gave those to us, and I don’t want anything that reminds me of him,” I respond. “I can’t believe I still have them.”
I sit on the floor, rest my back against the wall. “Do you girls remember the night I told you I had finally decided to leave him?”
We had attended a concert in the city and then decided to stay out. It was a rare night out with my friends, since we barely saw each other anymore. I wasn’t ready to go back to my house and it was one of those warm spring days and the evening was too beautiful to be home. With a bottle of wine and plastic cups, we found some benches in the Boston Common and popped the cork. As we were drinking, I suddenly blurted out, “I’ve decided I’m leaving Carmine.” Krissa almost choked on her wine.
“What? When? How?” Melida asked. The shock on their faces is an image ingrained in my memories. Up until that night, they knew very little, only what I had selectively shared. I was always worried about sharing too much, worried about their judgment. That they’d think I was weak. But that night I shared everything. Once I started talking, I couldn’t stop, and the girls proved me wrong. They cried with me and for me as I told them the stories about Carmine’s behavior, the way he took pride in belittling me, and the look of satisfaction he had after he slapped me. I wished I had told them sooner. I explained I didn’t have a plan yet and the only thing I knew was I was leaving.
“It’s a night I’ll never forget. I don’t think any of us will,” Jestine says. She stretches her hand out and rests it on my leg.
“Definitely not. When you told us about Carmine and how he’d been treating you, my perspective changed. I always knew he was a jerk, but I never would’ve imagined him hurling things at you or laying a hand on you,” Melida says. “Whether you think you know someone or not, we never know what goes on behind closed doors.”
“Anyway, if you weren’t having a yard sale next week, I’d say let’s have a bonfire and torch all this shit,” Krissa adds, an evil laugh filling the air.
“That would be cathartic, but I’d rather get some extra cash for all this stuff. My mother loves having yard sales, so she’s gathering stuff to sell too,” I add.
“Did you give your notice already?” Jestine inquires.
“Yeah, last week,” I respond, nodding.
“What did Mona say?” Jestine asks.
I attended UMass Boston. Despite being considered a full-time student, it took me five years to complete my degree because I only took four classes at a time since I had to work too. I double majored in Linguistics and Italian, with a minor in Spanish, and graduated with a bachelor’s degree. In my final semester, I was required to do an internship and landed one at Every Word Counts Translations in the city, where Mona is the owner. After graduation, she hired me full-time as an interpreter and translator. Much of the work we do relates to court proceedings or documents used in lawsuits, so most of the clients we have are attorneys who need translations or interpreting for their clients. I spend most of my days translating documents from Spanish or Italian to English or interpreting for people during in-court hearings. I really enjoy being in the courtroom, but only because I’m there to assist and not part of the proceedings.
“She cried when I told her. I’ve been working with her since my last year at UMass. It’s the longest I’ve ever worked anywhere.”
“After Mona got over the initial shock of me leaving, she offered to help me find a job in Miami because she has several connections. In fact, she even brought up the idea of a business opportunity—opening an Every Word Counts office in Miami and being her business partner, with me running the Miami office.”
“What? That’s incredible!” says Jestine.
“It’s an amazing opportunity but I turned it down. I told her for the time being it would be too much for me to take on with a new city, a new move, and a new business. We decided to table the idea for the time being and revisit it once I get settled in Miami.”
“Aw, how sweet. I’m sure she’s gonna miss you. You basically ran that place for her,” Krissa adds.
“She did help me find a job though. I mean, I’m not officially hired yet, and have an interview when I’m in Miami. But Mona assured me the job is pretty much mine and the interview is a formality.”
“Do you have anything else lined up, in case the job with Mona’s friend doesn’t pan out?” Melida asks, crossing her legs.
“Yeah. To be safe, I scheduled a few interviews at other companies as well. But if Mona’s contact comes through, I’m taking it because it’s the highest paying one of the four I’m interviewing with.”
“Fuck, Sol, I’m gonna miss you so bad,” Jestine says, leaning into me to wrap her arms around my torso.
“Seriously! I could kill that motherfucker for running you outta town!” adds Krissa.
“I’m gonna miss you girls so much,” I exclaim, squeezing her back. “Come here, come in for a group hug,” I say, looking first at Krissa then over to Melida.
I’m an only child and grew up with a single mom, but these girls are my sisters, the family we choose. Other than my mom, they’re all I have. I have my aunts, uncles, and a few cousins, but I’m not as close with my cousins as I am with these ladies. We’ve been through so many highs and lows together. If I say I’m not scared of living a life without them in the day-to-day of it, I’d be lying. Despite all the changes I face, living a life where I don’t see these three ladies every day is what scares me the most. Sure, I’ll make new friends, but the four of us have been friends forever and they’re irreplaceable.
CHAPTER FOUR
Soledad
The three-day drive from Boston to Miami was brutal. Although my mom drove with me, I did most of the driving, which made for long days. We drove about twelve hours each day, stopping for gas, meals, and bathroom breaks as needed. We found a hotel each night along the way to spend the night and get a good night’s rest to gear up for the next day on the road.
