Las Madres by Esmeralda Santiago

Author:Esmeralda Santiago [Santiago, Esmeralda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2023-08-02T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

The following Thursday, Ada had an appointment, so Oliver was asked to drive Luz to her physical therapy. She studied in the morning, and, after lunch, was putting away her schoolwork when Oliver arrived fifteen minutes earlier than expected. She was flustered. She did her best to pretend she wasn’t, but the effort made her clumsy. She dropped her notebook and pens, tipped a glass over Alonso’s documents, couldn’t remember where she’d left her handbag, or where her other sandal had walked off to. When she returned to the living room, Alonso and Oliver were chatting on the couch without the formality between boss and employee Luz expected. On the other hand, Alonso treated Ada and Shirley in the same familial manner, although they, too, were on his payroll.

“Ready?” Oliver stood and pulled his keys from his pocket.

Alonso encouraged her with a nod. Luz was ruffled, and now that she knew she’d met Oliver before and had forgotten him, she was embarrassed and shy around him.

Alonso stood at the top of the driveway, watching her go. Along the curb was a VW van, bigger than Ada’s Twinkie, painted bright orange below the windows, and above them, a white rectangular roof.

“Welcome to my shoebox,” Oliver chuckled. “That’s what Ada calls it because it looks like…” He turned with a flourish, expecting her to finish his sentence.

“The box shoes come in?”

“What else? Now that’s all I see.” He unlatched the door and bowed. Luz wasn’t sure if she should laugh, or if he was mocking her. She looked at Alonso, who smiled and waved as if to say, “Go on. Don’t be scared.”

There were only two seats in front. Those in the back had been removed to make way for framed canvases covered with blankets, some tied to the walls.

“While you’re in your therapy,” Oliver said, “I’ll deliver a few paintings to a gallery.”

“Like for a show?”

“Yes. They’ll hang my landscapes on the walls, a sculptor who uses native bamboo gets the middle of the space, and a potter is in the courtyard.”

He switched from English to Spanish easily but his English had a drawl like when he had been pretending to be Elvis. Luz wanted to ask him about it but didn’t. He might not think he had an accent, for starters. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks. It’s a group show, but I’m the only painter.”

“I thought you were a musician.”

“You remembered!” He turned to her with a wide grin. “That’s one of my jobs. Gotta pay the bills, you know.”

“When is the exhibit?”

“It opens next Wednesday.”

“Maybe Ada can bring me to see it.”

“She and Shirley are coming toward the end. Don Alonso can come earlier if he can shift his plans.”

“Which ones?”

Oliver concentrated on his driving. Every few blocks, he turned to Luz.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. What kind of plan did Abuelo have?”

“It’s none of my business.”

“But you know, right?”

Again, he looked at her, as if weighing whether telling her would have consequences he was unwilling to live with. She waited while he decided.

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