“No, it’s okay. Come in. Have you eaten?”
Raymond instinctively placed one hand on his belly, almost defensively. He was so full it was nearly painful.
“Oh yes. Thank you. I just had a big Sunday brunch.”
“Well, come in, anyway. We’ll tell Luis you’re here.”
He followed her down a hallway and into a dining room with dark paneling on the walls and a long table, suitable for maybe twelve people. Seated around it Raymond saw an older couple. Grandparents, he guessed. Five children. A girl nearly Raymond’s age. Maybe fifteen from the look of her. Three boys in varying sizes, starting at around five and working up to ten or eleven. Then a toddler girl in a booster seat. At the head of the table sat a heavy and robust man who Raymond assumed must be Luis Velez.
All eyes came up to Raymond.
“Look who’s here, honey,” the woman said.
For a moment, nothing. Everybody just stared.
Then Luis said, “I don’t . . . I’m not sure who this is.”
“Oh,” the woman said. “I’m sorry. I just assumed you two knew each other.”
So that’s that, Raymond thought. She had assumed he was a friend to Luis. Someone Luis would know on sight. That’s why she had invited him in. That’s why she was being so friendly. And now that false notion was gone.
“I’m sorry,” Raymond said. “I wasn’t trying to . . . it wasn’t meant to be . . . you know . . . coming into your home on some kind of false pretense. I just asked if you were here. I wanted to see you and ask you a question. Maybe I should have said right out that you don’t know me. I guess to me it went without saying. But if you want me to go right now, I will. I’m not trying to intrude. I’ll leave if you want me to.”
Raymond stopped talking. Finally. He stood awkwardly, listening to the sheer volume of his words ricochet around in the small room. Everyone was waiting. No one was even chewing anymore, save for the toddler.
“Take a deep breath,” Luis Velez said, his tone soothing. “You don’t have to be afraid of us. We won’t bite you. Tell me what you came here to ask.”
Raymond sighed out a breath he had apparently been holding for too long.
“Please let it be him,” he breathed quietly.
It was only a soft whisper. But it was still louder than he had intended it to be. It had been meant to remain a thought in the privacy of his head. He hoped the words had not made it to anyone’s ears but his own. He would have been embarrassed if someone else had heard.
“Okay,” he began. “Here’s the question. Do you know Millie G? The ninety-two-year-old blind woman who lives over on the west side? Are you the one who used to come and help her do her banking and shop for groceries?”
Luis Velez opened his mouth to speak. But Raymond already knew the answer. He could see it in the man’s eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know her.”
Raymond felt as though he were falling. Maybe off a tall building, or down a deep well. For a brief moment, he had allowed himself to believe that in this friendly, safe environment he had found his Luis Velez. That he would have to go no further. He’d had no idea how much he’d set himself up for a fall. He thought he’d known how deeply he wanted to be done with this project, but there was more to that well of dread than he’d imagined.
“Okay, thanks anyway,” Raymond said. “I’ll let you get back to your meal.”
He turned to walk out of the dining room.
“Wait,” Luis Velez said. “Take a seat with us for a minute. You look so tired.”
“I don’t want to bother you while you’re eating.”
“We’re almost done. There’s cake coming. You can join us for dessert.”
Raymond stood still a moment, feeling stunned. He had no idea why anyone would choose to be so nice to him, or what had possessed this Luis Velez to want to add Raymond to the one meal his family could enjoy together every week.
But he was tired. So he sat.
The cake was dark chocolate, with gobs of chocolate frosting. It was hard to imagine putting anything more in his stomach. But Raymond’s mouth wanted it. His psyche wanted it. He wanted to eat sugar until he was nearly in a coma. Until he could feel nothing. He wanted to disappear.
He lifted his fork and took a huge bite. His eyes rolled back as if to scan the ceiling. It was that good.
He looked up to the head of the table to see the big, rotund Luis Velez watching him and smiling.
“She makes a hell of a cake, my wife,” he said. “Am I right?”
“Luis!” the wife said. “Language!”
“Sorry. She makes a mean cake. That’s what I meant to say.”
“It’s really, really good,” Raymond said. “I really appreciate it. I have no idea why you invited me to sit down and eat cake.” He wanted to ask straight out: “Why?” But he could not think of a way to say it that did not risk sounding ungrateful. “But I really appreciate it. I just don’t know why,” he added, poking at the question again.
Luis looked to his wife, Sofia, and she looked back. Everybody else seemed lost in dessert.
Raymond had been introduced to everyone while Luis was cutting the cake. But he could remember only that the wife was Sofia, the teenage girl was Luisa, and the toddler girl was Karina. The rest had refused to stick. There was a Luis Jr. in there somewhere, but Raymond couldn’t remember which of the boys bore that name.
He waited to see if they would answer the question he could not quite bring himself to ask. At least, not directly.
“You just looked so . . . ,” Luis began.
“Dispirited,” Sofia added.
Apparently they finished each other’s sentences.
“I was going to say discouraged, but yeah. You looked so sad. We couldn’t send you back out into the world like that.”