Puzzled, I reached out and took his hand and gave him a soft smile. I loved seeing this other side of him that I was sure very few people got to see.
He looked to the ground and toed a rock, looking a little sheepish. “I grew up out here and used to come here all the time when I was a little boy.”
The image of a little Cane with bright blue eyes flashed through my mind.
“The city didn’t come out nearly this far,” he said, his eyes soft in the setting sun. “It was really quiet out here. I would walk over here all the time for dinner.”
He looked over and waved at the little old lady behind the counter. Her face lit up like the sun. “Dad wasn’t much of a cook, so she,” he nodded at the lady, “did a lot of our cooking.”
The lady motioned for us to come to the counter excitedly and Cane blushed. “This place is as close to home as I can ever take you. I don’t know why I brought you here. I just thought, I don’t know, maybe you’d like it.” He smiled hopefully.
“I love it, Cane. This is perfect.”
We made our way up to the stand and the old woman’s smile grew. She leaned over the counter and kissed both of Cane’s cheeks. “?Mijo, como estàs?” she asked, beaming at Cane.
Cane smiled back, obviously very fond of the lady in front of him. “Bueno. I’m good, abuelita. This is Jada,” he said, nodding at me. “Jada, this is Mrs. Munoz.”
We smiled at each other and I was unsure what to say. My Spanish was horrible and I wasn’t sure if she spoke English.
“?Como estàs, abuelita?”
“Ah, bien, bien. Sentarse,” she said, nodding at the seats. “Voy a la comida.”
“Do you want to sit at a table or a hay bale?” Cane asked, his eyes dancing with laughter.
“Well, the hay bale does look inviting, but in this dress, I’m not so sure,” I laughed. “Why did you ask me to wear this if you knew we were coming here?”
“I love that dress on you,” he said quietly. “I won’t apologize for that.”
I swooned as he grabbed my hand and led me to a table. We got settled and within a few minutes, Mrs. Munoz brought us an entire spread of food.
“Hágamelo sí usted necesita cualquier cosa,” Mrs. Munoz said.
Cane looked so young, so respectful, as he watched the grey-haired lady return to the building with a fondness I had never seen in him before; it was endearing. I imagined this is how he interacted with his mother.
Watching their interaction reminded me of my own mother. It wasn’t something I liked to think about a lot.
“Please send Jada to the office, Mrs. Costa. She won’t be back for the rest of the week.”
I packed my things into my backpack and walked to the office with such trepidation I was almost sick. I knew, in the pit of my stomach, that something was very, very wrong.
I rounded the corner and saw Kari sitting in one of the stiff black chairs. Her hair was sticking to her face from tears, her eyes wide with fear. My father stood behind her, his hands on Kari’s shoulders.
I had never seen my father cry before and I had never seen him cry since. But that day was etched in my memory forever. Tears fell so quickly down his face that it looked like a constant stream.
And I knew.
Dad had never been to the school for anything. That was Mom’s job. And Mom wasn’t there.
I stopped in my tracks, my heart dropping to the floor with my backpack as I waited for the words that I knew were coming.
“Jada,” Dad choked. “It’s your mother …”
“So you used to live all the way out here?” I asked him, placing some sour cream on top of my quesadilla and trying to bring my thoughts back to the present.
“I did,” he said quietly, all of a sudden engrossed in his enchilada.
“Where?”
“Over that way,” he said, nodding his head across the street.
“Does your mother still live there?” I realized I didn’t know where his parents were or if he had brothers and sister. I knew so very little.
“No,” he said, swallowing hard. “She doesn’t.” He picked up his water and took a sip, staring off into the desert.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push.” I felt embarrassed and curious all at the same time, my cheeks heating.
“You’re not pushing. My father passed away a while back, as you know,” he muttered, his eyes betraying his cool exterior. He swallowed again. “Kellie, or my mother as my birth certificate shows, ran off when I was a little boy. She found someone worth more financially than my father. Just your classic gold digger.”
“Oh, Cane, I’m so sorry! That must have been awful! Were you an only child?” I suddenly felt very alone for Cane. I couldn’t imagine being by myself in the world. Even through my divorce and my feelings of loneliness then, it couldn’t compare to what Cane had to feel.
“Yeah, just me,” he shrugged, moving his enchilada around on his plate.
“Did you ever see your mother again?”