29
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"You must be Ms. Velasquez."

Her expression was stoic. "I go by my maiden name: Delgado."

"That's beautiful."

"I know."

He grinned at me. "Ah like she."

She was still holding his hand. "Are you an immigrant?"

He placed his other hand on top of hers warmly. "Yes, ma'am. I'm from the Caribbean."

"I'm from Spain."

He glanced at me. "Jude never told me that."

She looked at me, too. "Jude grew up here. He doesn't know what it's like to be an immigrant."

Dante chuckled, looking back at her. "I'm Dante."

"Ms Delgado to you."

He bobbed his head. "Of course."

She finally took her hand away. "I'm nearly done with lunch. You should join us."

"I'd love to."

She looked at me. "Like a family get-together, yeah?"

Dante answered for me, "Yeah."

My mother and I stared at each other for an uncomfortable stretch of time as Dante scoped out my home.

"Let's go upstairs," I told him, eyes still on her.

"Ahm, miss. Yuh doh want no help in the kitchen?"

"It's okay," she told him, eyes still on me.

"Okay," and with that, he jogged up the stairs. I followed him up, and I closed the door behind us.

"You don't have to stay for lunch if you don't want to."

As he observed my room, he said, "No, I'd love to."

"Are you sure?"

He looked at me now. "Do you want me to?"

"Yeah, but... she's weird. She might say some weird things... ask some weird questions. I can't put it past her that she may even do some weird thing."

"Like dangerous shit?"

My lips went tight. "I can't... put it past her."

He turned his entire body to me. "Like poison meh?"

I shook my head. "No, never. She's a nurse, so... but I dunno."

He nodded. "I understand." He walked around my room, tracing a finger along my stuff. "You have a nice room."

I walked over to my bed and sat. "Thanks."

"You have a phonograph?" he suddenly exclaimed.

With wide eyes, I nodded. "A record player, yeah."

He dismissed me with his hand as he observed it. "Is the same thing."

"My friend bought it for me for my birthday."

"Ciro?"

"Right, you know him—yeah." I got up and approached him. "Cool, right?"

He nodded. "Wuh yuh have?"

"Uh..." I pulled out one of the drawers and flipped through the cases as he hung over me, observing. "Mostly oldies... Sam Cooke, Frank Sinatra, Nancy Sinatra, Leslie Gore, The Pied Pipers, Eileen—"

"The Pied Pipers?"

"Yeah."

"You have 'Dream'?"

I smiled. "Of course, I do."

I took it out of its case and carefully placed it in, closing my eyes as the reverberations pulsated throughout me. The vintage flair was even present in the vocals and I unwinded to it.

I opened my eyes to see Dante standing in the middle of the room. "Come and dance with me," he muttered.

I physically shied away from him. "I can't dance."

"Come nah, is just vibes."

I looked back at the record player, then at his warm expression, and approached him. He pulled me to his chest and gently swayed me to the song's rhythm. We whirred in the perfect circle, one hand in his with the other around his neck. His other hand held my back as we moved.

I could have stayed like that with him for hours, but he pulled away. He pulled away and stared at me so deeply in the eyes that I felt more naked than I did without clothes.

We still moved, though slower, and we stared at each other. I wondered what went through his mind, but I dared not ask him. I didn't have to, because he told me exactly what he was thinking. He said: "I love you."

He didn't awkwardly stand there and wait for me to say it back because he didn't need me to. Instead, he dove into my lips and made out with me. He let go of my hand and pulled my body to his by the waist. I had my arms around his neck as we melted into one.

It was brimmed with passion; the furthest from aggression. It was soft and had a natural rhythm to it—a natural rhythm that signified the extent of our connection. This was merely how he expressed those pretty words.

We pulled away as the song neared its end, and suddenly a butterfly flew between us. Our eyes followed it. I wondered if it was the same butterfly that had once lived within the cocoon out my bedroom window. It had patterns of black with a bright green in them. It was absolutely breathtaking. It flew all around my room and when I thought I had lost it; it landed on my forehead.

I froze.

"Doh breathe, eh," Dante whispered with a growing grin. So I held my breath, watching it as the wings slowly opened and closed. Dante pulled out his phone and snapped a picture. Of course, the flash was on, so it scared the butterfly away. He covered his mouth with wide eyes. "I'm so sorry."

I chuckled, eyes following the butterfly as it remained in my room. "It's fine. Did you at least get it?"

He swiped through his phone, and I went beside him to see. It was a live photo, so we could even see when the flash got it. It flew away, and I laughed.

He hummed. "It's perfect."

I nodded with a smile, gazing up at him. He held my face and planted a gentle kiss right where the butterfly once resided.

★・・・・・・★

We all sat and dined together. Mom sat with her boyfriend on one end, and Dante and I sat on the other.

"So..." I started, eyes still on my plate. "Where's your car, mom?"

"I sold it."

My head shot up to her. "What? When?"

"Yesterday," she said plainly.

"What? That's..." Suddenly, it dawned on me. "So I had to ask you. You couldn't just tell me."

She jerked one shoulder up, using her fork to nudge at her food. "I don't see why I would."

My shocked expression turned neutral as I faced her man. "But you told him, right?"

"Why don't you pass me the—"

"You told him, though, right?"

Her man felt the need to interrupt. "Listen, this isn't the time nor the place—"

"Excuse me?"

My mother sighed, and he continued, "I'm just saying this isn't the right time or place because we're getting acquainted with one anothe—"

"No, I'm sorry. Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Jude," my mother and Dante exclaimed in sync.

"No, who does he think he is? Coming in my house—"

"Your house?" my mother interjected.

"Our home, mom, whatever—"

"It becomes our home when you start paying bills, Jude."

There was a beat.

"What?"

"Yeah."

"Ms Delgado," Dante called, capturing everyone's attention. "You're an amazing cook, first of all, and you have a lovely home, but may I, as an outsider, interject?" His strong accent, despite his formal language, added a unique charm.

"Why are you talking like that to her?"

He raised a hand to silence me. "Hold for me, Jude."

"What—"

"Ms. Delgado? May I?"

"Yes, you may, dear."

"Dear? Since when—"

"He's respectful," she snapped. "Unlike you."

I dragged my palms across my face. "Oh, my God."

"Jude," Dante called, placing a hand on my thigh. I shoved it off with wide eyes—wide eyes that were directed toward my mother alone. Did she see it? I had no idea because she didn't react.

Dante continued, unphased by my blatant rejection, "Why didn't you tell Jude about the car?"

"Because I didn't have to."

"True." He nodded.

"True?"

"It's her car, Jude."

"But she told him."

Her boyfriend tried with a: "Uh—" but was cut off by Dante.

"But it's her car. She can tell who she wants."

"Thank you." She smiled, pleased.

"But Ms Delgado, it sends off a terrible message to your son." Her smile slipped at this. "You two lived together for how long?"

"Ever since I was born."

"You left me for college—"

"Not even for a month."

"That doesn't matter. You—"

"No, it really does. It means a lot. To me, is like he rejected a fresh start for you." She looked at me. "You two have lived together for so long. I feel like there are certain things you have to tell each other." Before she could argue, he turned to me. "That goes for you too, Jude." This seemed to shut her up.

I shrugged. "Sure."

"Yuh have anything against padna man over here?" he asked.

"I don't even know his name."

"It's Harold," he announced.

"Harold?"

"Yeah."

I laughed in his face. "Mom, you seriously brought home a Harold?"

"You told me you were happy for me!"