September 10th, 2004

Oakland, California

He had asked her, on Monday, what she was doing that weekend, and her answer had been a shrug. Her classes hadn't started yet, and she wasn't working that weekend. So, when he had woken her up at 4:30 in the morning and told her to pack a bag for the weekend, he already knew that she didn't have much of an excuse not to do it. She silently promised herself, as she dragged her ass out of bed, that she would never tell him about how free her weekend was again.

At least he had made her coffee.

Of course, he hadn't told her where they were going, and that it was going to take thirteen fucking hours to get there, which resulted in an incredibly uncomfortable trip that left the insides of her thighs sore (in a bad way) and her stride bow-legged and stiff.

They had stopped at a yellow house in Oakland, a tiny, single-family home that was a little shabby on the outside, like many of the other homes on the block. She could hear children shouting from further down the block, enjoying the unusually warm September night, and smelled the delicious aroma of meat and spices that wafted through the air. A woman, who looked like she was in her late fifties or early sixties, sat on a rocker on the porch, a cigarette between her fingers. She wore her dark hair pinned up behind her head, with wisps of grey near her temples, and the starched, white button-down shirt of a nurse's uniform.

As Sarah handed her helmet to Happy and took her backpack from his saddlebag, the woman's eyes followed her, a curious expression on her face. Happy threw an arm over her shoulder as they walked towards the porch steps, causing the woman to sit up a little bit straighter and snuff out her cigarette.

"Juana!" she shouted excitedly through the open window behind her. "Happy's brought someone!"

"It isn't that Herman, is it?" the woman inside, Juana, shouted back. "Come to eat me out of house and home?"

"No, it's a woman!" the woman on the porch shouted back.

There was a clatter inside the house, as if someone had just dropped silverware on the ground, and Juana appeared in the doorway a split second later, a wide grin across her face. Sarah could tell that the two women were sisters, with strikingly similar features, and she guessed that one of the women was Happy's mother.

Here she was, standing on the front porch with what she presumed was Happy's mother and aunt, her clothes dusty and grimy from the long ride, without so much as a warning for what Happy was about to get her into.

"Ma, aunt Frieda, this is Sarah," Happy told them. "Sarah, this is my ma, Juana, and my aunt, Frieda."

"It's so wonderful to meet you, Sarah," Juana gushed, wrapping Sarah in an unexpected hug. She was slightly thrown off, but quickly returned the gesture. "Happy's mentioned you once or twice before, but it didn't say how beautiful you are!"

Frieda chuckled. "Let the girl breathe, Juana," she said. "I'm sure Happy just made her ride all the way down from Tacoma today. She's probably exhausted."

Juana stepped back and looked at her from arms' length, before shooting a glare at her son. "You made her ride all the way down today?" she asked, and he nodded. "I'm so sorry, Sarah. I swear I taught this boy some manners."

"Ma," Happy began to protest, but his mother cut him off.

"I'm not quite done with dinner yet," she told Sarah, a smile returning to her face. "Why don't you wash up, take a shower, change out of those clothes? There's fresh towels in the bathroom, and Happy knows how to do the laundry. I'm sure he can get those washed up for you."

Happy looked between the two women, a look of hopelessness in his eyes. Something told her that it was pointless to argue with the two women, if even he wasn't going to attempt it.

"Sure, that would be nice," Sarah told them, accepting the invitation.

"Let me show you where the bathroom is," Frieda said, taking her arm. "And then you can tell us all about yourself over dinner. Juana made tamales pisques. You're going to love them!"

After a shower (which she desperately needed) and a change of outfit, Sarah found herself at the dinner table in the tiny kitchen, sitting across from Happy, who was quiet, as usual, while his mother and his aunt chatted away about their day. Frieda was, in fact, a nurse, who worked at the hospital around the corner, and had done so since the 1960s, while Juana was a retired schoolteacher, who still sometimes acted as a substitute.

"That's how my Happy got his name," Juana told her. "I taught English, and my favorite book to teach was Death of a Salesman. When I met Happy's father, William, I knew that I wanted to name our son Happy."

"Did he tell you his middle name is Arthur?" Frieda asked.

Sarah shook her head. "No, he didn't tell me that," she replied with a smile.

"Ah, he's always been a quiet one," Juana chuckled, waving her hand. "Mysterioso, as my mother would say."

It was one of the nicest family meals that Sarah had ever had, and it wasn't even with her own family. Juana and Frieda were perfectly content to chat amicably, asking her all kinds of questions once they found out that she was a grad student, and they concluded that she was far too good for Happy. His only response was to grunt and shrug, as he picked away at his tamales.

September 11th, 2004

Oakland, California

Juana made the best coffee, she decided, as she sat curled up on one of the chairs on the porch, sipping slowly as she took in the cool morning air. Her secret, as Sarah learned, was a combination of trading recipe secrets with a Cuban woman who lived down the street, and a local fence, named Vivica, who had somehow found a way to get her hands on coffee straight from Cuba.

Frieda had already left for work, and Happy was still asleep. He wasn't a morning person in the slightest, and Sarah also suspected that he was hiding from his mother. She had asked (several times) if Sarah was his girlfriend, and had hinted more than once about how much she wanted grandchildren.

But now, Sarah has Juana to herself, the both of them enjoying morning coffee, and Juana taking occasional puffs of a cigarette.

"You never did tell me how you two met," Juana mused.

Sarah blushed, trying to think of how to tell Juana that she had met her son as a hook-up at a club party. "Ummm…" she fumbled, her fingers tapping the coffee mug anxiously. "We met at a party that my roommate at the time dragged me to. End of August last year."

"And is he your boyfriend?" Juana pressed.

"I don't think so?" Sarah mumbled, which sounded more like a question than anything else. "We haven't really had that conversation."

"Well, he must like you," Juana harrumphed, taking a puff of his cigarette. "He's only ever brought one girl home before, and that was back in high school. William and I hated her. She was all wrong for him. No ambition, no passion, just an empty-headed teenager going nowhere fast."

Sarah felt a little giddy, although she couldn't pinpoint exactly why. Was it because it seemed like Juana approved of her? Was it the thought that she was only the second person that Happy had ever introduced to his mother?

Before she could inquire about the other girl, Happy strode out of the house, wide awake, and already dressed for the day. He leaned over and kissed his mother on the cheek, before kissing Sarah, distracting her long enough to steal her coffee.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, when she realized that Happy was now drinking her coffee.

He just shrugged, smirking at her in between sips, while Juana laughed. There wasn't a stitch of guilt on his face as she pouted. The coffee Juana had made was really good, and he knew it. Eventually, he did hand the mug back to her, but only when it was half empty.

"Do you have any plans for the day?" Juana asked, looking between her son and Sarah.

"Not really," Happy replied nonchalantly. His hand rested on Sarah's knee, rubbing slow circles with his thumb as she sulked over her coffee. "Just giving Sarah a chance to de-stress before classes?"

"De-stress?" Sarah asked, frowning as she gave Happy a sideways look. "You think I'm stressed?"

"You pace more when you're stressed, when you're talking on the phone," Happy told her quietly. "You also don't fold your towel, and you don't put the coffee back in the cabinet."

"Oh," she whispered.

"Well, if you don't have any plans, then maybe you can stop by and see Vivica for me," Juana told them, smiling broadly, "and I'll teach Sarah how to make pupusas, just like my mother taught me."

"I, um, can't really cook," Sarah said meekly, but Juana just brushed her off.

"That's okay, I'll teach you everything you need to know," Juana replied. "Plus, it's one of Happy's favorites. That's what a mother is supposed to teach her future daughter-in-law, right?"

Happy's hand tightened on her knee as she spit out the coffee she had just taken a sip of, her eyes widening as she coughed a couple of times. He growled, and stalked away without another word, hopping onto his bike and peeling out of the driveway.

"Juana…" Sarah whispered, her voice hoarse.

"What?" the older woman replied casually, leaning back in her seat. "You're the first girl he's brought here since high school. I like you, Frieda likes you… Happy loves you. I know my son. It's obvious. He just hasn't figured it out yet, I guess." She paused for a moment, flicking some ash off the end of her cigarette. "So, you want to get a head start on the pupusas? I'd like to pass the family recipe on to someone, and Happy's not going to sit and listen to me prattle on about tradition."

"Okay," Sarah agreed, after catching her breath. It could be fun to spend the whole day with Juana, learning how to cook. She was twenty-five, halfway through her master's degree, and living in her own apartment. It's time she figured out how to make something more than cereal and eggs.

September 12th, 2004

Oakland, California

It was the ass crack of dawn again when Happy woke her up to ride back up to California. She had no complaints this time, since the wake-up time was more expected, and Juana had made them breakfast before they hit the road. The two of them had had a fantastic time yesterday, and Sarah would be leaving with several new recipes, with Juana's notes and secrets crammed in between the lines to help her out.

As she followed Happy down the front steps to the driveway, her phone rang in her back pocket. She pulled it out and read the number on the caller ID screen. It was the Nevada number that she had become familiar with, her ex's number, who had left a single voicemail just asking him to call her. She sighed deeply, causing Happy to look in her direction.

"It's my ex," she told him. "He wants to talk, but I made it very clear when we divorced that I didn't want to speak to him."

Happy grabbed her phone and flipped it open before she could stop him, answering it with a gruff "yeah?" She could hear her ex mumble on the other side of the line, before Happy cut him off. "She doesn't want to talk to you. Don't call this number again."

Her jaw dropped as he passed the phone back to her. "I could have done that," Sarah told him firmly, still stunned. "I should have done that."

"I know his type," Happy replied, swinging one of his legs over his bike. "He's called you a couple of times. Won't stop if you tell him to, gotta hear it from a man." He handed her the helmet, and she settled onto the bike behind him. "He's been stressing you out."

"Yeah, a little bit," she admitted. Her hands wrapped around his waist. "I haven't decided yet if I'm mad at you for doing that, just so you know."

"That's okay," he said, before starting up the engine.

In her mind, she knew that she wasn't all that angry at Happy. There was no way in hell she would have had the courage to pick up the phone and say that, and he was completely aware of the fact that she had no desire to ever speak to him again. He had actually done her a favor, really. But she would never tell him that.