Love Is Overdue (51 page)

“
Whatever, Gabby.” He
shrugged off my comment that time. “Why do you have to move,
though? Why don’t you just look for a roommate or something…I
thought you loved that apartment.”

Yeah,
I wanted to tell
him
, I did love that
apartment.
Past tense.
But not nearly as much as I loved
you…

“
I thought about it,” I
lied. “But I think I’d prefer to live alone.”

He was quiet for a moment.

“
How’s Sophie?” I decided I
had to change the subject.

He just watched me in silence for much
longer than necessary. “She’s driving me fuckin’ crazy…but in a
good way I guess…’cause I got her with me.”

I smiled then. Just
slightly.

His eyes were still all over me. “I
miss that so much.”

My heart leapt again. “What?” I asked
cautiously.

“
That smile…
shit
…” He let his
breath out. “I hope you haven’t forgotten to do that every now and
then.”

I didn’t say anything to that though.
“You know what, Ben…”

He watched me. “What?”

I stared right back at him. “You have
a lot of fucking balls…seriously…do you know that, or are you just
completely oblivious to your own shit?”

His eyes went wide at that.

I
wasn’t finished though. “I guess this is what you do all the time,
isn’t it? You rope a woman in with all your fucking charm and good
intentions and your
‘I’m such
a fucking nice guy’
bullshit…just go on and on and on about how much you
care…how the last thing you’d ever wanna do is hurt her…fuck, if I
have to hear about how much you
care
about me one more
fucking time, I think I’m gonna throw up…you let your ladies down
so easy, don’t you? Then what? You wait until they’ve wallowed in
the torture and agony of losing you just long enough that you
can…what? Reel them back in again? And then you got them right
where you want them? Is that it? Really, Ben?” I shook my head in
disbelief, as much for what I was feeling as for how I could
actually be saying it out loud.

But true to my nature, I decided to keep going. “It’s
disgusting actually! It’s more than disgusting – it’s the
creepiest, slimiest shit a guy could ever pull! To be honest, when
I think about it, I would actually prefer a guy that fucks me and
never calls me again because at least it’s
honest
…at least
there’s no game…I would welcome that. Because after the game you
played with me for all those fucking months, the amount of crap you
spewed out…honestly…truly, Ben – it makes me sick.”

And I was going to be sick. But I was
more upset with myself in that moment for giving him the
satisfaction of hearing how much he still affected me. I wanted to
crawl into a hole…

“
So…yeah…thank you very
much for still appreciating my beautiful smile, and I hope it helps
you sleep at night, that even without the wondrous grace of your
presence in my life I am – by some miracle, Ben – still able to
fucking smile.”

And I was done. I had to hand it to
Ben, though. He hadn’t averted his eyes once through my entire
rant.

It seemed as if an hour or two passed
by as the two of us just stood there and stared at each other in
silence, but in reality it was at most a good fifteen seconds
before Ben let his breath out and glanced down at the paper I’d
handed him.

“
I should probably go give
Tammy a call.”

I was dumbfounded. That was
it?

“
Yeah, you probably
should,” I agreed with him.

“
Oh, and…about alla dat
nonsense ya just go on about…you forget one thing.” His eyes were
back on me again. “I actually work very hard at stayin’ away from
you, Gabby…”

“
Congratulations.”

“
Thank you.”

“
You can keep that…” I
nodded at the paper I’d handed him.

He sucked his teeth softly, still just
staring me down. I could tell I’d upset him. It was strange. He had
that same look on his face that I’d seen so many times while we
were together. Indecision. And I was done with it. I had no
patience for it anymore. I was suddenly more decisive than I’d ever
been in my entire life.

“
You can go now.” I held
his gaze firmly until he eventually gave in, turned around, and
walked back out the front door.

Ω

My mother’s
parents had pretty much disowned her after my father knocked her
up. After quitting school and deciding to shack up with him in the
slums of Sao Paulo while she waited for Lazaro to be born and for
my father to strike it rich with his impressive “business”
prospects, she had also decided to wash her hands of the rest of
her family as well. She was young. She was hurt. She was pregnant
and living in a one-room shack with a man who took better care of
his 9 millimeter glock than making sure there was any food in the
house. If I really thought about it, I couldn’t blame her for going
a little crazy.

The only person my mother had never
held a grudge against for that abandonment was her older brother
Fernando, who had moved to Canada long before any of the ugliness
of her adolescence had sent her spinning out of control. And
apparently he had felt the same way about her, and when he’d
learned of the situation that she was living in with Lazaro and me,
he had made it his mission to get us out of there. His wife Teresa,
on the other hand, had probably seen us as more of a burden,
especially once my mother’s illness began to progress as rapidly as
it did, but as long as Fernando was alive, she hid it
well.

I had to be realistic. I had known it
for a long time, but I was really all she had. This transition
would be her final separation. I really was the last to let her
go.

“
Mama, you know I’ll come
see you all the time,” I assured her, as I cleared the plates from
the dinner table, trying to busy myself with something – anything –
as this endless silence we had been suffering through since I’d
broken the news of Pine Hollows to her over dinner, was beginning
to drive me crazy.

My courage to finally break the news
to her had been forced. I’d gotten news that night that not only
had I been accepted for the suite I’d viewed the day I’d run into
Lena, but there were also four people now lined up to view our
apartment the next day. And there was no way I would be able to
stroll a bunch of strangers through the house without my mother
wondering what the fuck was going on…

“
They have beautiful
gardens, we’ll be able to go for walks – and you won’t be trapped
inside by yourself all day long while I’m working anymore. You may
even meet some nice people – some friends – I went to see it last
week. I think you’ll be happy there, Mama.”

I just stopped talking. I didn’t know
what to say anymore.

Eventually her eyes focused back onto
mine. “Gabriela, come sit.”

I was confused, but it was something.
I went and sat down next to her chair.

“
I know I haven’t been a
good mother.”

“
Mama, stop it…”

“
No. Let me
finish.”

I waited.

“
This disease,
Gabriela…what it took from me…I know this was God’s way of
punishing me for my mistakes, for my selfish choices, for all the
people I hurt in my life…”

“
Mama.”

“
Please, Gabriela. One day
you may understand.”

“
Understand
what?”

She lifted her hand up slowly to touch
my face. “Why I held you so close.” Her voice was almost a
whisper.

I didn’t understand.

“
I needed to protect
you.”

“
Protect me from
what?”

“
From everything,” she said
then, as if it should have been completely obvious. “From the
world…”

I shook my head slowly and just
sighed, having to look away. “I’m not afraid of the world,
Mama.”

“
Well, you should be.
But…if this is what you want, Gabriela…if you need to send me away
so you can let the vultures have their way with you, then so be
it.”

I stood up. She didn’t make any
fucking sense anymore.

“
What are you going to do?
Move?”

“
Yes.” I went back to clearing up the dishes.
Save my money
, I wanted to add
. Go back to school. Take a vacation. Just do
something
. Anything. Finally…

But I kept those thoughts to
myself.

“
Will I still be able to
come visit you? Or will I be locked up there for good?” she asked
me then.

I turned to my mother. “Of course. You
can always come visit for the day. As long as I can still get you
in and out of a cab we’re good to go,” I assured her.

And for some reason that seemed to
relax her a little. I noticed the look of resignation finally take
hold of her. Maybe even a hint of contentment. I hoped that’s what
it was anyway.

“
Let’s play a game this
evening. And pull out that bottle of wine.”

I smiled at
that. The relief that washed over me then was one of the most
soothing feelings I had felt in quite some time. “Sure, Mama. I’ll
get the board.”

Chapter
Twenty-Four

The crowds outside
Buena Comida
that
night were thick. Adam’s band had a loyal following – as did Ben
and his restaurant – especially on the Drive, and as it had been
that night Ben and I had been to their gig a few months ago, the
bar was packed – standing room only.

The band was between sets. It was
closing in on 11 pm and the DJ was spinning some old-school ska
tracks – “Johnny Too Bad” by The Slickers was pounding from the
speakers – as Corinne and I made are way through the crowds and
over to the bar.

“
I still don’t know what
I’m doing here!” I shouted at her as we waited for the bartender to
take our order.

“
You’re curious!” she
shouted back at me. “I would be too!”

And she was right. After Lena had first told me I should
come to their gig nearly a week and half earlier, and a few days
after my run-in with Ben inside my office, the strangest things
started happening. Since most musicians and artists posted their
flyers all over the street posts and shop and restaurant windows on
the Drive, it was not surprising that I saw the ads plastered all
over the place the week leading up to the gig. But when a flyer was
tossed through the mail-slot at
Commercial Travel
not
once, but twice in one week, I had become a little suspicious. The
clincher came, however, when I found one shoved inside my apartment
mailbox, squished between my internet and Visa bill.

Then on Friday night
The Dreaded Fuzion
uploaded its first video in nearly two months. I was
already lying in bed when I saw the email notification pop into my
inbox. I had been a faithful subscriber since I’d viewed that very
first episode over four months ago.

My heart started racing as I hit play.
The episode title read simply “Those Dreaded 20 Questions”. I had a
feeling it wasn’t another cooking demo. I held my breath as I
waited for the title sequence and opening credits to finish
rolling. Then as the music cut out, the screen focused in on Ben,
leaning back on a chair at what appeared to be his kitchen table. I
recognized the tips of the leaves of the snake plant from the
corner of the room.

It was obvious that he was recording
this episode on his own – without the assistance of his camera
crew.

He gave a little wave to the camera. “Whassup, youtube,
it’s Benjamin here…thank you all for tunin’ in yet again…so yeah.
First ting first, people, mi waan give a big heartfelt apology for
the hiatus we been on over di past coupla months, y’know…a lot been
goin’ on at the restaurant, and wit me personally so…that’s all am
really gonna say about that, but…not to worry, tings gwaan get back
on track soon so watch out for new episodes startin’ next week.
Today, though, I wanna try somethin’ a little different, and
dependin’ on the response and everythin’ this may become a regular
bit on my page…we’ll see w’happen…so let’s get to it. Am takin’
your questions today…” I watched as he pulled his laptop closer,
and glanced over at the screen. “In no particular order…here we
go.
PrincessAmy763
wants to know, ‘Can I substitute a
banana for a plantain?’.” He turned back to the camera, looking a
little amused, and was about to speak when he just shook his head
slowly and started laughing softly in that irresistible way of
his.

The screen cut to black for a moment and then Ben was back,
looking a bit more composed. “Let’s try this again,” he assured his
audience. “Since this is a family show, Princess, am gonna assume
you talkin’ bout cooking, and in that case, you should already know
the answer is no…you cannot substitute a banana for a
plantain…plantains are much firmer and have a much lower sugar
content than bananas…a banana can be eaten raw but a plantain
requires cooking. Remember, looks can be deceiving.” He gave the
camera a little flirty wink. “Next question…
Passionfruit69
wants to know…” He paused, as he glanced at the computer
screen again, raised his eyebrows in surprise and then turned back
to the camera, looking amused yet again. “I think we’ll skip
question two…” He turned back to the screen. “
Grillin’Girls
wants to know, “Why do you grind your own pimentos for your
jerk sauce? Can I substitute allspice instead?’ That’s a good
question actually – hopefully we on the upswing now…answer…yes, you
can always substitute allspice – pimentos are just allspice in its
original form…reason why I grind my own pimentos is for the
freshness – anytime you can grind your own spices you gonna get a
more intense flavor, y’know from black peppercorns to nutmeg to
cumin and coriander seeds…list goes on and on…next
question…”