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“That is special.”
She tilted her head and nodded. “It’s so I don’t forget them.” Her eyes misted over with the memory.
The sentiment was one I understood.
I grabbed a chip. “Freshest chips on the beach.”
She was ready to dip a chip in the red salsa when I warned her. “You’ll want to stick to the green.”
“Really?”
“You won’t be able to handle the red.”
“Is that so?”
“I can see it in your eyes. You’re scared.”
She heaped the red on her chip and took the whole thing in her mouth.
I stuck to the green and waited for the fireworks. I’d just learned something interesting about her—she couldn’t resist a dare.
In less than a minute, beads of sweat had formed on her forehead, and she sucked down half her Coke.
I waved my next chip at her. “I warned you.”
“It’s not that bad.” She switched to the green after that. Three chips later she said, “It is hard for her.”
I was glad she’d decided to open up about her sister and nephew. “How old is he?”
“Seven, and he’s a good kid. I help out, and with the two of us, we make it work.”
Our order was up, and I went to retrieve the plates.
She took a small sip of her almost-depleted Coke. “I wanted to thank you for the raise.”
“You already did.”
“We’ve been wanting to move into a larger place for a while. Billy’s getting a little old to sleep in his mother’s room.”
In my quick visit, I hadn’t guessed that her apartment was that small. “Have you found a place yet?”
“Not yet. Ramona’s doing the scouting. I’m pretty flexible. The most important thing is for her to be happy with it.”
I asked, and she continued to tell me about her sister and nephew. I soaked it all up. Her dedication to her family struck a chord with me.
None of her sentences began withI. Everything waswe, and sometimesthey. Her attachment to them seemed almost maternal. She’d stepped up to replace her mother in providing for her sister and nephew.
She asked about my family, which took longer, running through my two brothers, two sisters, and their whereabouts.
I pushed my empty plate to the side. “You mentioned your mother passed a little while back. What about your father? Is he able to help at all?”
Her expression told me instantly I’d stepped in it. “My stepdad died just before she did. An industrial accident.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
I didn’t have anything better to say to comfort her. My friend Bill Covington had lost both his parents, his mother long ago and his father recently. It had taken a toll on him.
She lifted a chip from the basket, scooped up a large helping of the red salsa, and offered it to me. “You made me eat one.”
