Ch 23, I Don't Believe in Omens
It was late at night when Chicho and James got into a serious conversation about the advantages of one hand gun over another. The tequila consumed so far didn't help the ensuing argument and Pote had to intervene with the suggestion that they all go to James's shooting range and test both guns out. Marcel, who seemed like the most sober, was supposed to drive until James's nephew Bobby Simmons volunteered.
Teresa heard the SUV pull back in at around 1 a.m. in the morning and as the men all begrudgingly went to their respective rooms while being told to keep their voices down, she thanked Bobby for driving them back and forth.
"I need a drink myself now, Auntie!" Bobby shook his head. "Never thought grown men could be so loud in the confined space of a car…on top of having been on the shooting range for 2 hours!"
James woke up late as the sun was streaming in the room. He was also alone. His nostrils detected the sweet smell of freshly baked cookies.
He climbed out of bed, used the bathroom, splashed water on his face, got into his jeans and headed for the kitchen as his head screamed for coffee. As he came down the stairs, he started hearing pots banging, cabinets opening and closing and felt the scent of cooking meat drifting up the hallway with a smell that was very astutely familiar.
He stood at the threshold, his face half in light, half in shadow and peeked into the kitchen. A mariachi song was playing low, a bottle of red was open on the table, and Teresa stood in front of the kitchen island, chopping an onion on the stone countertop in an apron, tears coming down her cheeks. He glanced at the clock on the wall: it was past noon!
"Smells amazing", he said, his mouth watering, his stomach gurgling.
"Would you mind stirring it?" , she managed to say as he walked over to the range and lifted the lid off the deep pot. The steam that rose to his face took him home. It was a traditional Mexican dish – a bean stew made with an assortment of legumes and meats; chorizo, pancetta, black sausage. Just as he liked it!
Teresa finished with the onion, covered it in a pan on the side, sniffled several times and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. Then she finally looked at him appreciatively and smoothed down some of his morning hair. Her smile was way jovial for the happiness chopping onions brought, he thought, and realized that she was buzzed from her lukewarm wine.
She uncovered a dish and pushed a piece of something wrapped in bacon in his mouth and as he closed it to chew, she smacked her lips on his: "You like it?" The smile was even more enticing that the food. She looked flawless…and weightless…and just perfect!
"Hmm!", he smiled too enjoying the bacon wrapped scallop. "My head feels very heavy…after the long day yesterday and all the tequila that went in…", he said and sat on the bar chair heavily.
Teresa sipped from her wine glass while making him a coffee and putting it in front of him with the smile still in place. He massaged his temples staring down at the steam rising off its surface as she looked at him with the compassion that had always defined her.
"I have to prepare a few things…because we are still 13 people in the house!" she chirped. "I've been busy!"
James slowly shook his head and rubbed his eyes: "I can see…maybe the Cantina should have delivered!"
"I plan on telling Pote to do it for the evening…but for lunch…and for this afternoon around the pool…" Teresa pulled out peppers and tomatoes and started washing them.
"You got three…no…four dishes on at the same time!" James was amazed. "How many can you handle at once?"
"A few!" she smiled back at him.
"My mom only could…ever make a few cocktails simultaneously! That was her best achievement!", he said as he eyed the small side oven that was lit.
Teresa followed his eyes and looked at him suspiciously. She had known him for close to 25 years now and could read the signs: "Are you… hungry?" she said. James loved to have his coffee before breakfast, always outside. Now he was hanging with her in the kitchen.
"Ahh...yes...you caught me...but I don't wanna eat a sandwich of leftovers…and you are busy!" James managed to say before Teresa turned around and pulled freshly baked croissants out of the small side oven.
"Watch out…it's very hot!" she said and put the tray in front of him.
Before he could say anything, George peeked through the door: "Me too, Mom!"
"That's what I'm here for…to feed my men!" Teresa joked as she pulled plates out for both of them.
"Yes Mom! Your skills are highly appreciated… and services needed!", her son returned the joke as he grabbed his plate and left. They had decided to give him space and had not imposed a discussion about 'the girlfriend' for a whole week now.
Teresa watched him leave and felt her heart fill with joy. When little moments like this came about, she knew that this was the part of life, the one that was 'different' and 'worthy', the only one that really mattered. And she silently thanked Fate that she had gotten to taste it, while others, who had sought it and fought for it, like Javier, like Castel, like Chicho, had not been so privileged.
She felt herself getting emotional with the direction of her thoughts, so she gave James a peck on the cheek and said: "Maybe…I should teach you to cook, mi amor! We can enjoy it together!"
He made a face full of indignation: "I can live with you sharing this experience with Pote!" She saw him close his eyes letting the sweet smell of freshly baked cookies, that now was coming strong out of the big oven, fill his nostrils.
An hour later James was in the living room when he heard a commotion from the kitchen. He found Teresa sneezing and wiping her eyes while continuing to adamantly rearrange the contents of the spice rack.
Pote, who had just walked in with two bags of groceries, was standing in front of her, complaining about how she had moved 'stuff around' now and how it would 'make his life terribly complicated'.
James turned on his heel to leave before he could be drawn into the conversation, but Pote was fast: "You got no opinion, Cabron?" Pote's voice boomed.
James hesitated and then shrugged: " Not on the spice rack, no...Sorry! As long as I can find the BBQ rub when I need it…I'm good, man!" and he scuttled out as fast as possible.
Everyone was seated around the big table in the backyard munching on appetizers and having drinks.
"Where are the girls?" Teresa asked as she brought out another plater. Suzie and Lupe had made 'besties' with Marcel's daughter Vivienne. She had the patience to sit tight and let them experiment doing her long curly hair for hours. So, this past week the three girls had been inseparable.
"They went to the beach with George." Louise Dumas replied and stood up to help Teresa with the plates she was bringing out from the kitchen.
Sometime in the next few minutes Pote, who had just checked on the BBQ, turned briskly and threw the BBQ thong to his right, scaring a small black bird that had perched on a nearby bush and making it fly off with a screech.
Just as James was about to ask 'what the hell was that', Teresa stepped out of the kitchen with two platters in her hands, saw Pote and dropped one of the platters on the tiles. The clang made James turn his head quickly and to see her paled face.
"What's the matter?" he was saying as both he and Kelly Anne rushed to help with the dropped platter.
"Nothing…", she barely moved her lips.
Pote walked over to her and squeezed her shoulder: "I got rid of the crow, Teresita! He's gone!"
James's eyes moved from one to the other as his brain flashed him an image of Camila talking about having seen a crow before Epifanio's car had been shot at and then himself having seen one right before the Galveston bust.
A black crow signified a bad omen, it was a Mexican thing! He tried to steady his hands as he was picking up pieces of the broken platter, but the images of an angry Pote and a paled Teresa were in front of his eyes.
"I don't believe in omens! You shouldn't either. Come have a sip from my beer!", he told Teresa after they had dealt with the spilt food.
She had almost drunk his beer, when the back door swung open to the loud voices of Suzie and Lupe. They were out of breath from running and were both shoeless.
"A man grabbed Viv from the beach…as we were making a castle …he put her in a car and drove off…and George…", Suzie wasn't able to coherently say more and Pote caught her by the arms to steady her.
James and Teresa rushed out of the kitchen at the same time that Marcel had to catch Louise to stop her from falling down.
Kelly Anne grabbed Lupe, who seemed to have more composure, as asked her: "Where is George, baby?"
Lupe wiped her eyes and said in between sobs: "He tried to fight the man off…but then another one got out of the car and…and…they hit him on the head and put him in the trunk!" and the girl burst into tears.
