She walked back into the kitchen, picked up the platter of turkey, and nodded her head toward the sweet potatoes. “Honey, grab the yams and follow me.”
I glanced in the dish. The sweet potatoes were covered in marshmallows. As I inhaled the sweet aroma, a rush of emotions washed over me. Other than in my father’s home, I had never seen them prepared in the same manner, and although I never assumed my father invented the recipe, I had yet to deal with such a strong reminder of him. I bit into my quivering lip, picked up the sweet potatoes, and followed her into the dining room, my mouth watering the entire way.
A table large enough to seat eight with a large chandelier over it sat in the center of the room. She placed the turkey on the table and reached for the potatoes. After situating them in what I suspected was her perfect place, she turned away. After a few steps, she paused.
“Do you want children?” she asked.
I was slightly shocked by her question, and wondered how I should respond. It was something Vince and I had yet to discuss, but I was sure we would at some point in time. Talking to her about it first seemed strange.
Still facing away from me, she turned her head and gazed at me over her shoulder. “Just between you and me.”
I grinned and nodded my head eagerly. “I do.”
“How many?” she asked as she turned away.
“Just between you and me?” I asked.
“Honey, everything we discuss is between you and me. It’s what mothers and daughters do, they keep secrets with each other,” she said.
Her response didn’t immediately sink in, but as I responded, I felt flattered and considerably more welcome in her home. Whether she intended to or not, she made me feel wanted, and almost as if I was already truly a part of the family.
“Enough to fill this house if I got my say in it,” I said.
She blinked her eyes, smiled, and quickly turned toward the sink.
“Grab the green beans, honey, I think I’ve got something in my eye,” she said as she turned away.
I carried the remainder of the food to the table as she walked to the bathroom and tried to get something out of her eye. As I gazed down at the table and wondered if she would be mad about my placement of the food, I heard her yell at Vince.
“Bradley, Stephen! Dinner’s ready, you two,” she shouted.
“It’s perfect,” she said as she walked into the dining room.
“I didn’t know where to put everything,” I said as I shrugged my shoulders. “It looks wonderful.”
“So, we’re ready?” Vince asked as he walked into the room.
His mother shifted her eyes toward me and grinned. “We sure are.”
“You been crying, Ma?” Vince asked as he walked into the room .
“No, I got something in my eye, didn’t I, Honey?” she responded as she shifted her eyes toward me.
I nodded my head.
“Yeah, and I wrecked my bike,” Vince said with a laugh.
“Just be quiet and sit down,” his mother snapped.
We all took a seat at the large table, Vince and I sitting on either side of his mother, and Bradley on the floor beside Vince.
“Who’s saying grace?” she asked as she alternated glances between Vince and me.
“Well, according to your rules, it’s Sienna’s turn,” Vince responded.
His mother tilted her head to the side and batted her eyelashes.
“I’ll say it,” I said with a nod.
I closed my eyes, bowed my head, and inhaled a shallow breath. As I began to pray, Anita rested her hand on my knee.
“Heavenly Father, we are gathered here today to give thanks. There are so many, Lord, who are less fortunate, and for them I ask you to give special consideration on this day, and throughout the holiday season. Bless them with understanding and a willingness to continue, for one day they, just as we have, will find their calling in life and see the world through clearer eyes, through your eyes, and through you they will pave the way to a brighter future. Today, Lord, I thank you for Anita, I thank you for Vince, and I thank you for Bradley, but most of all, I thank you for providing all of us with something as sacred as the ability to love. I give these thanks in your name, Lord, amen.”
I opened my eyes, lifted my head, and glanced around the table.
“Pass the potatoes, Ma,” Vince said.
His mother stood and patted me on the shoulder.
“Hand him the potatoes, Honey,” she said as she turned away. “I’ve got something in my eye again.”
I did wonder when she walked away the first time if she was crying or if she had something in her eye, and now the answer was pretty clear.
But I’d never tell.
Because that’s what mothers and daughters do, they keep secrets with each other.
VINCE
December 15th, 2014
It was apparent Sienna was quite fond of Christmas, and obviously more so than any other holiday. Her constant listening to Christmas music and her inability to hide her excitement as the day approached caused me to ask more questions, and in due time I learned that her birth, her mother’s death, and the holiday all shared the same day on the calendar. Throughout her childhood, she and her father spent the day celebrating not only the holiday and her birthday, but her mother’s sacrifice, which ultimately provided Sienna with the gift of life.
I knew there weren’t many people who would maintain such a positive outlook on life after forfeiting their entire family at such an early age, but Sienna wasn’t like everyone else. She was grateful for what she had, appreciative for the time she was able to spend with her father, and had no reservations admitting that although she wished she would have been able to meet her mother, she blamed no one for her loss.
Christmas had always been a holiday I enjoyed, but on this particular year, I was enjoying it just a little bit more.
Even if it was difficult to admit.
“What’s the options?” he asked nervously.
“You’re out of fucking options,” I responded. “He saved you from a dime piece in the joint. The fucking charge was manslaughter. You remember the not guilty verdict, right? I bet you had a huge fucking fiesta for that, didn’t you?”
He glanced around the restaurant and leaned toward the center of the table. “I remember. But check this out…”
I shook my head and raised my left index finger in the air. “Check this out. You owe him eight, and my cut is thirty percent. That’s ten thousand four hundred. Not negotiable.”
Sitting in a restaurant with a gun in the pocket of my coat made me slightly uncomfortable, but this guy had proven to be impossible for me to find. After paying $500 to an informant a few weeks prior, the call finally came. I learned Hector was eating at one of his favorite places in the barrio, and if I hurried, I could catch him there. As I walked in, he was paying his bill and preparing to leave.
Now sitting at the table trying to negotiate a payoff in the presence of a hundred Spanish speaking patrons, I was beginning to feel like the center of attention. In this crowd, I stood out like a turd in a punch bowl.
“Look, Hector. You and I both know you were in the game then, and you’re in the game now. Ten grand isn’t going to kill you. I know enough about you to know you’re aware you need to pay the debt. It’s been six months, and it was due in 30 days. You know enough about me to know if I have to, I’ll drag your ass out of here and it’ll get real ugly real quick. I don’t want that, and I know you don’t either. Solve this problem for me,” I said.
“Navidad’s a bitch, and I got six kids. It creeped up on me this year. And I’m out of the click. You see any of my homies in here?” he asked as he motioned around the room. “Yeah, me neither.”
“I’m stretched thin as fuck ‘till I get another gig,” he said. “Can we reach an agreement?”
“Like what?” I asked.
“I know exactly what I got at home in the safe. It’s like $7,800. I can maybe scrape up a few more and mak
e it eight,” he said. “That’s all. But I need it squashed.”
“Eight leaves your attorney fifty-six hundred. He won’t settle for that,” I said.
“It could pay him off,” he said.
I wasn’t sure he had the money, but I suspected he did. It seemed every time I had to collect money from a member of the Hispanic community I entered into a bargaining agreement, and there was always an expectation of me forfeiting my cut, which I never did. The negotiating process seemed to be part of their culture, which I tried to respect, but eliminating my cut was not an option.
I wasn’t in this business for my health.
“Ten thousand four hundred,” I said as I shook my head. “Borrow what you don’t have.”
“Look, my wife took the kids and went Christmas shopping. She left me off here to eat. I don’t want any trouble when she gets back, not around my kids. So let’s make it eight and be done with it,” he said.
“I ought to put a bullet in your ass and take that gold fucking watch. As many people as you’ve fucked over, I doubt anyone in here would say a fucking word. What’s it worth? I asked.
“Maria got me this,” he said as he pulled his arm away from the table.
“Hell, I need a watch. Mine’s fucked up, anyway. Take it off,” I said.
“I can’t do that,” he said.
I leaned into the center of the table and narrowed my eyes. As he shifted his eyes to meet mine, I gave my demand.
“Actually, you can. Give me the fucking watch or I’ll drag your ass out on the sidewalk and pistol whip you into a bloody fucking pulp. And that, Hector, is a fucking promise,” I said through my teeth.
“She’ll kill me if I give you this watch,” he said.
“And I’ll kill you if you don’t,” I said.
He studied me for a moment, and eventually reached for the clasp of the watch. One thing I had developed over the many years of doing what I did was a reputation. My customers always ended up with their money, merchandise well worth in excess of the money, or I delivered their client to their doorstep.
And, as a local attorney wouldn’t be able to make much use of me delivering Hector – and he knew it – he further knew I wouldn’t let him leave my sight without the money or an equivalent.
He unclasped the watch, extended his arm, and handed it to me.
“Good choice,” I said as I shoved the watch into my coat pocket.
“Tell that to my wife,” he said. “So what now?”
“We’ll wait for your wife and kids. Tell her we’re old friends. But you’re riding in the truck with me to your house. And I’ll wait till you get the money out of the safe, or wherever you have it. Then, I’ll be gone,” I said.
“I got some brand new 22” rims for a Chevy truck, and a 60” flat screen. Take that shit instead of the watch, homie,” he said.
“Do I look like I need a fucking set of rims? Or a fucking TV? I’m keeping the god damned watch,” I said. “And I’m not your fucking homie, remember that.”
After a few long silent stares and two glasses of water, I watched as a little girl struggled with the front door for a minute, and then finally pulled it open. Dressed in a bright orange colored coat, black leggings, and little black buckled shoes, she was adorable. After scanning the restaurant for a recognizable face, she locked eyes with Hector and smiled.
“Papi!”
Speaking Spanish faster than I was able to understand, she ran across the restaurant and directly toward our table. As she jumped into his arms, it was apparent she was one of his many children.
What seemed to be a small argument ensued, and after a little negotiation, Hector turned to face me.
“She wants to know if she can ride with us in the truck?” he asked.
I cocked an eyebrow and glared at him. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Show me some respect,” he said as he nodded his head toward his daughter.
Although having children in my presence wasn’t something I was used to, it didn’t take me a matter of a split-second to realize I had cursed in front of his child. Cursing in my mother’s home cost me a lot of money over the years, and as much as I hated to admit it, I needed to show him and his daughter respect regardless of the debt he owed.
Show respect, get respect.
“Lo siento por mi elección de palabras,” I said.
The little girl smiled.
“Listo?” I asked.
He nodded his head.
As we stepped out of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk, I noticed a Suburban in front of the front door. Filled with kids who were all waving in our direction, it was apparent the story he told of his wife taking the kids Christmas shopping was true. As we began to walk toward the vehicle, a boy in his teens stepped out of the vehicle and grinned.
“We got you some presents, so don’t be trying to look all in the back and see what they are,” the boy bragged.
The remaining children, all much younger, beat their fists against the windows and made faces as his son stood outside talking about the presents they had purchased. .
In ten days, Christmas would be upon us all.
“This is Vince,” Hector said to his son as he motioned toward me with his free hand.
“Emilio,” the boy said with a smile.
I nodded my head. “Nice to meet you.”
I alternated glances between the boy, Hector, and the Suburban full of excited children. Memories of being a boy at Christmas, and opening presents with my mother and father were some of my fondest memories, even as an adult.
Christmas would be upon us in a matter of days.
“Come here for a minute?” I asked Hector.
“Take your sister and get in,” Hector said as he motioned toward the SUV.
“You know where our shop is?” I asked as the children crawled inside the car. “Our clubhouse?”
“Couple blocks east of the pizza place?” he asked.
I nodded my head. “You have me the eight grand buy January 15th? No bullshit, can you?”
“I can get the eight to you tonight. It’ll be tight, but I can do it,” he responded.
“Here,” I said as I handed him the watch in my cupped hand.
He shook his head and raised his hands as if he wasn’t going to accept the watch. “I can’t get you $10,400. I can’t even get you $8,400. I wasn’t bullshittin’. Just keep it. I’ll tell her something.”
Based on what I knew about people, I was pretty sure what he was telling me was true. I shook my cupped hand in front of him.
“Keep the watch. Get me $8,000, and we’re straight. Merry Christmas,” I said.
“No shit?” he asked as he took the watch in his hand.
I nodded my head and extended my hand. “Bring it to the shop by the 15th, just put it in an envelope with my name on it.”
“You have my word,” he said as he shook my hand. “Merry Christmas, Vince.”
“Merry Christmas to you and your family,” I said. “And this didn’t happen. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”
“What didn’t happen?” he said as he clasped the watch on his wrist.
“Exactly,” I said as I turned away.
And, just like that, I was out of the mood to collect debts and in the mood for Christmas. I got in my truck, glanced at my watch, and realized it was nowhere close to the three o’clock time it depicted.
This fucking watch.
As much as I needed a new watch, I knew it would be a cold day in hell before I broke down and bought another one. I would have no problems spending money on Sienna for Christmas, though.
Because there was no doubt in my mind that she was a necessity.
SIENNA
December 25th, 2014
Christmas was so much more than a holiday for me. I was born on Christmas, my mother died on Christmas, and according to my belief, Jesus was born on the same day. After my father’s death, I made it a point to remember my father’s and my memories of the day by enjoyi
ng the music he graced me with when he gave me the special CD, and I did so on a daily basis.
I typically didn’t tell people when my birthday was, because if they knew about my mother’s death, it made the holiday and my birthday both seem sad. It wasn’t a sad day as far as I was concerned, and in fact, I considered it to be the best day ever.
In the last five years, the holiday had been a difficult one for me. Celebrating it with Vince and Anita would not only bring back so many fond memories, but would without a doubt develop new ones that we could spend a lifetime sharing together as a family.
“Open it,” I said as I pushed the gift in his direction.
“Don’t be jumping around, I want a clear picture,” Anita said.
“I’m not six years old, Mother. I’m not going to jump around like a fucking idiot,” Vince said.
Uh oh.
I widened my eyes and glanced in Anita’s direction. She pointed over her shoulder toward the kitchen, cleared her throat, and after not gathering Vince’s attention, did it again.
“The jar, Stephen,” she said.
He glanced in her direction, sighed, and stood. “It’s Christmas,” he said.
She pointed toward the kitchen and grinned. “All the more reason to be respectful.”
He lowered his head and began walking toward the kitchen slowly.
“Let me see it,” she said.
He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and removed a $1 bill. “Here,” he said as he waved it in the air.
She raised the camera and took a picture of him as he held the bill high in the air. After a minute, he returned to the room and sat down beside his gift.
Incapable of containing myself, I began to clap. “Open it, open it, open it.”
We had stayed all night at his mother’s home, and I was still wearing my pink pajamas. After hot chocolate, coffee, and his mother’s Christmas breakfast, the morning was just like I remembered it being with my father. There’s nothing on earth like waking up Christmas morning with the one you love.
He slowly peeled the wrapping from the package while his mother sat back and took pictures with her digital camera. After carefully pulling all of the paper away from the box, he turned toward me and scowled.