wisely, like to finally find yourself a man,” Tony commented. “Now that we’re not in your hair,
you can concentrate on making yourself happy.”
“I am happy,” I said defensively. “You know what Titi used to say: ‘Don’t count on anyone—’”
“‘To make you happy,’ I know,” he finished for me. “But you’ve got to admit, it might make life a little less lonely.”
“Sometimes. Sometimes you can be with someone and still be lonely.”
“True.”
I smiled, and thought proudly of how my eldest son had grown in the past few years. Our relationship had changed since his
early turbulent teenage years, when he was fifteen and I had discovered he was dating a twenty-year-old woman. I promptly
called the young woman’s mother—because she was still living at home—and told her that I would call the police if her daughter
ever came around my son again. Tony accused me of ruining his life shouting,
“You’re just jealous ’cause you don’t have a man!”
Now, at nineteen, he had been saved for over a year, seriously concentrating on his education, with little time for love.
“Have you been to church down there?” I asked.
“Yes, Mother.”
“Are
you
staying away from those college girls?” He didn’t answer right away and for a moment I panicked. I knew Tony was a serious
and sensitive soul. The year before, a girl from church had broken his heart and it had taken him several months to recover.
Until then, I never realized that men suffered from rejection just as much as women. My fear was that he would fall in love
again too quickly and drop out and get married before graduating. “Tony?”
“Ma, I don’t have time for women. I have a full course load, and my job.”
“How’re your classes?”
I listened as he talked about his classes and his professors before closing with our usual, “God bless you. I love you.”
Before I could reach the back door, the phone rang again.
“Hey, Ma! Miss me?” It was Eli.
“Who is this?” I kidded, sitting down again.
“Ha-ha. You’ve become a comedian in your old age.”
“Don’t make me go down there, boy.”
Eli was the comic relief in the family. He was the one who kept me laughing whenever I thought I was going to fall apart.
Nothing seemed to faze his good humor. When his father and I divorced, Eli, at three years old, asked,
“Is Daddy taking the big TV?”
After Victor moved out, thirteen-year-old Eli had matter-of-factly said,
“Now we’ll have more food left over.”
“How do you like college so far?”
“It’s raw! I’ve been to three parties since I’ve been down here. And the females? Girls, girls every night. I think you should
know, I’m not a virgin anymore.”
“Elias!” I warned as he cackled into the phone.
“I’m kidding, Ma. I haven’t been a virgin for years.”
I ignored his little confession. “Have you been to church?”
“Maybe next week.”
“Maybe, nothing. You better go.”
“Si, Madre,”
he said sarcastically in his phonetic gringo Spanish.
“Ready to come home?”
“Like you want me back. You know you want to have that man over.”
“What man?”
“The one you been hiding.”
“Yeah, right.”
After we said our good-byes, I decided I had had enough gardening for the day. I had plenty of paperwork to do, but working
at the computer at home did not appeal to me after staring at one most of the workweek. I printed out hard copies of the college
brochure I was editing and an editorial I had started a week ago to the
Tribune
regarding the inappropriate transferring of students with behavior problems, then packed a bag for the lakefront. I changed
out of my overall shorts and T-shirt and into my weekend incognito attire: an Indian sari made of bronze gauze with a matching
scarf, which I used as a headband to hold back my hair. Wooden bangles, amber shell earrings, and leather sandals completed
my ensemble. If I had my choice, and if the ground
you can concentrate on making yourself happy.”
“I am happy,” I said defensively. “You know what Titi used to say: ‘Don’t count on anyone—’”
“‘To make you happy,’ I know,” he finished for me. “But you’ve got to admit, it might make life a little less lonely.”
“Sometimes. Sometimes you can be with someone and still be lonely.”
“True.”
I smiled, and thought proudly of how my eldest son had grown in the past few years. Our relationship had changed since his
early turbulent teenage years, when he was fifteen and I had discovered he was dating a twenty-year-old woman. I promptly
called the young woman’s mother—because she was still living at home—and told her that I would call the police if her daughter
ever came around my son again. Tony accused me of ruining his life shouting,
“You’re just jealous ’cause you don’t have a man!”
Now, at nineteen, he had been saved for over a year, seriously concentrating on his education, with little time for love.
“Have you been to church down there?” I asked.
“Yes, Mother.”
“Are
you
staying away from those college girls?” He didn’t answer right away and for a moment I panicked. I knew Tony was a serious
and sensitive soul. The year before, a girl from church had broken his heart and it had taken him several months to recover.
Until then, I never realized that men suffered from rejection just as much as women. My fear was that he would fall in love
again too quickly and drop out and get married before graduating. “Tony?”
“Ma, I don’t have time for women. I have a full course load, and my job.”
“How’re your classes?”
I listened as he talked about his classes and his professors before closing with our usual, “God bless you. I love you.”
Before I could reach the back door, the phone rang again.
“Hey, Ma! Miss me?” It was Eli.
“Who is this?” I kidded, sitting down again.
“Ha-ha. You’ve become a comedian in your old age.”
“Don’t make me go down there, boy.”
Eli was the comic relief in the family. He was the one who kept me laughing whenever I thought I was going to fall apart.
Nothing seemed to faze his good humor. When his father and I divorced, Eli, at three years old, asked,
“Is Daddy taking the big TV?”
After Victor moved out, thirteen-year-old Eli had matter-of-factly said,
“Now we’ll have more food left over.”
“How do you like college so far?”
“It’s raw! I’ve been to three parties since I’ve been down here. And the females? Girls, girls every night. I think you should
know, I’m not a virgin anymore.”
“Elias!” I warned as he cackled into the phone.
“I’m kidding, Ma. I haven’t been a virgin for years.”
I ignored his little confession. “Have you been to church?”
“Maybe next week.”
“Maybe, nothing. You better go.”
“Si, Madre,”
he said sarcastically in his phonetic gringo Spanish.
“Ready to come home?”
“Like you want me back. You know you want to have that man over.”
“What man?”
“The one you been hiding.”
“Yeah, right.”
After we said our good-byes, I decided I had had enough gardening for the day. I had plenty of paperwork to do, but working
at the computer at home did not appeal to me after staring at one most of the workweek. I printed out hard copies of the college
brochure I was editing and an editorial I had started a week ago to the
Tribune
regarding the inappropriate transferring of students with behavior problems, then packed a bag for the lakefront. I changed
out of my overall shorts and T-shirt and into my weekend incognito attire: an Indian sari made of bronze gauze with a matching
scarf, which I used as a headband to hold back my hair. Wooden bangles, amber shell earrings, and leather sandals completed
my ensemble. If I had my choice, and if the ground
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