Shoe Strings

reached up and brushed his thumb over
the delicate skin under her eye.   She didn’t flinch, but he could tell it was a struggle.   “And because you’ve been here for almost
a week now and I’m sure you can recite my entire childhood back to me, thanks
to Cal.”
    She laughed, covered the rice, lowered the fire to simmer,
and faced him.   “It’s no big
deal.   She lived in Brazil, we lived
in Atlanta.   She died when I was
four.”   She shrugged her shoulders
and, picking up her wine, headed for the back deck.  
    Jesse followed, determined to keep her talking.   He loved puzzles and the more pieces she
revealed, the more fascinated he became.   They settled into adjacent chairs at the table on the porch and the two cats
immediately pounced.   The black cat
jumped on Jesse’s lap and the brown and gray striped cat rubbed his head
against Angelita’s ankles.   “Why did
your mom live in Brazil when you and your dad were in Atlanta?”
    “You couldn’t possibly want to hear this.”   She seemed bothered by his insistence
and her reaction only made Jesse more curious.
    “You couldn’t possibly believe that’s true,” he countered in
the same tone she’d used.  
    She rolled her eyes and took another sip of wine.   “They were divorced.”
    “Why didn’t she stay in Atlanta?   And if she wanted to leave, why didn’t
she take you with her?”
    “Jesse, my parents didn’t have the kind of marriage your
parents did.   They weren’t in
love.   Ever.”
    “Then why did they get married?”   His own miserable marriage popped to
mind.   “Because of you?”
    “You’re relentless, you know that?”
    He smiled.   “It’s
one of my better qualities.”   He
kept his eyes on her and stroked the cat that had settled on his lap.   “You were saying?”
    She twisted the clunky silver ring on her right hand.   “My father was—is—the
Brazilian consulate in Atlanta.   When his appointment came through, he needed a wife.   He met my mother at a club.   He called it a dance club.”  
    That would explain her fabulous body, he imagined.  
    “They married and moved to the States.   My mother was…”   She paused, swirled the wine in her
glass, “flamboyant was the word my father used most often to describe her.   High-spirited was another.   The long and short of it is, she was an
embarrassment to him.   They fought,
regularly.   When she got pregnant,
he was furious.”
    “How do you know all of this?   Did your father tell you?”
    “Oh no, he didn’t speak of her, especially not to me.   Unless I did something to embarrass him
and he’d mention our similarities.   We had household staff and my nannies--I say plural because they never
stayed for long--they would tell me things they’d heard.   I had so many questions about her, about
them.”
    “So what did he do when she got pregnant?”
    “Nothing.   He’s a
devout Catholic and abortion was out of the question.   Their relationship disintegrated, as did
her behavior during the pregnancy.”   She put her wine on the table, began nervously twisting the ring again.   “His tolerance for her theatrics was
very low.   At eight months along,
she made arrangements to leave him.   She did leave him, in fact.   But Mother Nature had other plans.”   At the sound of the buzzer she rose, gently shooing away the cat with
her foot.   “Saved by the bell.”
    Jesse sat in the chair, stroking the cat and thinking about
how Angelita had spoken about her lonely and difficult childhood.   He’d expected…something from this
evening, but not that she’d tug on his heartstrings before the meal was
served.   He placed the sleeping cat
on the cushion he abandoned and went back inside where Angelita was scooping
the steaming stew over a wide bowl of rice.
    “Can I help with anything?”
    She motioned to a loaf of bread she’d placed on the counter
as he washed his hands in the kitchen sink.   “You can cut the bread and put it in the
bread basket.”
    Jesse did as instructed, set the basket on the table, and
lit the candles.   When Angelita
carried their bowls to the table, he flipped the switch on the overhead light
and settled at the table.   He
watched her as the candlelight made soft shadows play over her golden skin; her
dark eyes seemed huge in her face.   He scooped up a big bite and savored the meal she’d prepared for
him.   “It’s really good.”
    “Yes, I know.”
    He was glad to