July (The Year of The Change Book 1) (5 page)

The old man turned back to Shalem and the old woman he was sitting with.

The young man two tables away spoke quickly.
“No la miré. Pasé la mirada y me capturaron los ojos bonitos y azules de ella.”

The girl looked ready to spit nails, as Gramps used to say.
“Puerco.”

Unable to
not
look over, I peered from the corner of my eye and hoped I wasn’t too obvious.

He stammered.
“Los ojos de ella no son más bonitos que los tuyos…uh…sino diferentes…asi es.”
He looked like he was apologizing for something and I had a pretty good idea what it was.

I tried to tune them out. Even though I couldn’t understand the words, the tone was evident. I caused havoc everywhere I went.

My eyes slid back to Shalem, with the handsome exotic face, who was still at the table next to us.

The old woman sitting with Frado laughed.
“Te preocupes sobre una turista que no va a ver jamas.”

He leaned toward the woman, trying unsuccessfully to be quiet.
“No tia! No es turista!”
He looked around when he realized he was too loud. He blushed and glanced over. He caught me in an unintentional gawk. I looked away as embarrassment radiated through me.

The woman lifted her chin.
“Así es. Les vimos cuando llegaron, con placas de Oklahoma.”
She looked very smug.

Shalem dropped his shoulders.

The only words I understood was
no
and
Oklahoma
. That was enough to know they were still talking about us … sigh … me. I seemed to be the center of everyone’s conversations.

Shalem lowered his voice.
“No es turista…se muda aquí. Probablemente su papá es professor al colegio de Doane o la llevan aquí para estudiar.”
He smiled as he thought of something.
“Si va a estudiar, necesitará un trabajo.”
He frowned at the old couple.
“Turista, no.”
His face changed to worry as he glanced over. Once again he caught me staring over the dessert menu. The two old people laughed at him as he headed to the kitchen.

I devoured the chips as people around us watched, some were amused, and actually most were amused. Only the pretty girl two tables away didn’t look entertained as the young man with her kept stealing glimpses in my direction.

Shalem came back with two baskets of chips barely pausing at the other table to toss a half full basket at the old man. The other basket, heaped so high it looked on the verge of an avalanche he gently placed before me.

“It is good for a woman to have a healthy appetite, yes?”

Again he was mere inches from me. His lips were full and his eyes mesmerizing. It wouldn’t take much effort to reach my fingers up to touch his cheek, to snatch him as mine. I wanted him.

Dad tapped him on the shoulder and draped his other arm over my shoulders. “Thank you. How much longer for our food?” He shook me slightly.

The amazing young man dragged his eyes from mine. Eager to please my father, he fluttered back to the kitchen to check on our order.

Sue leaned behind Tam and whispered to Dad, “Maybe we should do drive-in or drive through from now on.” She frowned at me.

Dad nodded.

This was going to be an excruciatingly long trip if we didn’t get out of the car to eat. Besides lunch and dinner, all we had were gas and potty breaks. I could feel my body stiffen at the thought.

Shalem was back with the hostess to help serve our food. The table wasn’t big enough so he set up a small folding stand with a tray beside me. The hostess kept looking at me as he loaded the tray. She didn’t say anything as she held another large tray. Her eyes grew bigger with each plate and bowl that went next to me. Shalem topped off the service by putting another basket of chips and bowl of salsa in the middle of the table.

The only thing good about him being affected was my healthy appetite didn’t gross him out.

Shalem spoke, always to me. “Please enjoy your meal. I will be close if you need me.”

Oh, how I wanted him to be close, very close, but I controlled myself and didn’t grab his arm to keep him from leaving.

I shouldn’t have made eye contact, either. “Thank you.”

His whole face smiled and he didn’t move.

The hostess took him by the arm and tugged.
“Vámonos hermano, déjales comer.”
She looked back at me.
“Y permite que ella echa a paladas.”

I watched them as I covered the burrito in front of me with salsa and sour cream.

Shalem frowned at the hostess.
“Cuidate la lengua, Marisol.”
He pushed her towards the kitchen.
“Algún día, será tu cuñada.”

She snorted, amused at whatever he said. He pushed her all the way into the kitchen.

I kept my attention on my plate and tried to block out all the eyes that watched. When one plate was finished, I just piled the next one on top. The food was great and very filling. As I placed the second plate on my pile I heard Shalem by the kitchen and looked up. He, the petite woman, Marisol the hostess, a younger girl with beautiful long wavy, thick, black hair, and an older man that had the same build as Shalem stood at the back watching.

The petite woman had her arms folded over her chest.
“Comió todo?”

Marisol nodded.
“Sí.”
The hostess did not approve of something and I feared that something was me.

I continued to glance up, as I ate, to see what they were doing. I shouldn’t have. It was like trying to tune out a TV in the same room, with its volume too high, while you visit old people.

The older man leaned over to Shalem.
“No puede estar serio de ella, nos comería fuera del restaurante.”
He turned to the petite woman.
“Maria, aconsejes tu hijo.”
He looked concerned about something.

The petite woman huffed.
“Es hijo tuyo y tambien es obstinado como tú.”

Shalem frowned and elbowed the man.
“Papa, no te das cuenta que está creciendo?”

Marisol giggled.
“Sí, crece anchosamente.”
A loud laugh escaped before she clamped a hand over her mouth. She was probably laughing at me. If I was lucky it was only my glasses she found humorous.

Shalem frowned at the hostess.
“No te ríes…no deberías hablar así. Si sigieras de comer tortas, tendríamos que agrandar la puerta.”

The hostess smacked Shalem in the back of the head and he grinned with satisfaction. I didn’t know what they were saying, and hoped I wasn’t the reason for the discord.

As I put the third plate on top, the small woman and younger girl’s mouth popped open.

Marisol waved her arm towards us.
“Viste?”

The younger girl tugged at Shalem’s sleeve.
“Está seguro de ella?”

He put his arm around her.
“Tienes dudas de tu hermano Jessica? Será buena esposa!”

The younger girl looked wide eyed as I pulled a bowl of rice to me.

The older man had enough and shooed the others back to the kitchen.
“Hay más trabajo.”

My family was about done and I wanted out and away from all the eyes. I ate faster. Five and a half months left to endure all of this. Seven more days to have to endure all of this out in the open … unprotected.

A large Hispanic man lumbered over with a silly grin on his face.

Affected.

In his late twenties or early thirties, he wore an expensive suit tailored perfectly for his robust frame. He had a gold chain with a gold cross around his neck, gold bracelet and gold watch. They all looked expensive. He dragged along a much smaller and thinner man who blushed and looked down as they approach.

The big man cleared his throat.
“Perdon, pero me gustaría de presentarme.”

He nudged the smaller man who translated. “My friend said to pardon him for interrupting, but he wanted to introduce himself.” The smaller man looked up at the big man and waited for him to speak

We also looked up and waited.

The big man puffed up his chest.
“Soy Manuel Juan Jesus Diego Santiago.”
Obviously he was very proud of his name and thought it should mean something to us.

I just stared at him.

Dad chuckled quietly before he cleared his throat and stood. “We are pleased to meet you. We are the Kennins.” He offered his hand and the big man took it. Manuel's chubby one dwarfed my father’s.

The little man translated.
“Dijo que tiene gusto de conocerte. Son los Kennin.”

Manuel smiled at Dad but drew his attention to me. I felt a shiver roll down my spine and my mostly satisfied stomach lurched.

Dad pointed to each of us as he spoke. “This is my wife Sue, son Tim, daughter Tam and our oldest Sylvia.

Manuel breathed deep, ignoring the others and the little man’s translation.
“Sylvia…qué nombre bonito.”

The little man cocked one eyebrow and looked at me. “Manuel said you have beautiful name.” He pursed his lips as though holding back a grin.

I doubted he agreed. At the moment there was only one Spanish word I could remember, so I used it.
“Gracias.”
Well, that and how to count to ten.

“Ah, hablas español. Eres inteligente y bonita.”

The little man chuckled behind his hand. “Do you speak Spanish Sylvia?”

My cheeks went hot. “No, sorry, that was the extent of it.”

“Manuel, ella no habla español.”

He waved the man off.
“No importa, hablaremos la lengua del amor…y ella la aprenderá.”
His hungry eyes bore into me and I felt like a Thanksgiving turkey with all the trimmings.

Manuel came around behind me and placed his hands on my chair. My eyes shot wide and I looked at Dad who adjusted his position to intercede. Manuel was about to pull my chair out when Shalem came running over with the hostess and papa from the kitchen.

Shalem came to a stop across the table from us.
“Manuel, no molestes nuestros clientes!”
He looked on the verge of taking a swing at the large man.

Manuel laughed loud and hearty.
“No la molesto. Estoy aquí para ofrecerla una vida mejor. Le haré la mía.”
He looked down at me and stroked my hair.

My mouth popped open with a scream that wouldn’t dislodge from my throat.

Shalem snorted.
“La tuya?! Está echando broma! No quiere un cerdo gordo como tu. Me prefería más.”

Manuel placed a hand on my shoulder and I grabbed my Dad’s arm. Dad tried to get the hostess’ attention. Not an easy task since she was riveted to the argument.

The big man stroked my hair like you would a cat that you’d forgotten was on your lap.
“Ella merece de estar mimada…”
He caressed my cheek. I had to blink to keep my eyes from popping out of my face.
“… No de trabajar los dedos delicados en la cocina sucia.”
I grabbed my dad with my other hand, too.

Shalem untied his apron as he stared at Manuel’s hand on me. Papa tried to hold him back.

Manuel sneered.
“Déjale salir Juan. Fregaré el piso sucio con el.”

The little man grinned as he watched the obvious argument, like a tennis match. Everyone in the room watched as well. I, too, was drawn from face to face even though I didn’t understand a word of it.

Papa stepped in front of Shalem.
“Piso sucio? Tengo los pisos lo más limpios de Crete!”
He shook his fist at Manuel.

Shalem put his hand on the Pappa’s arm.
“Muévete papá.”
He move around the older man.

Dad finally captured the hostess’ attention and asked for our check. She looked worried about the impending fight, but did as Father requested.

Manuel took his big hand from my shoulder and held it out towards Shalem.
“Como vivirá ella la vida…ropa fina y vacaciones costosos o tu restaurante chimbo y bebes bravas?”

The hostess grabbed our check out of the apron Shalem had tossed to the floor and rushed to the cash register.

Dad got up and I slipped into his seat to get away from the big Manuel and his large hand that waved in the air above my head. The last place I wanted to be was between these two men. The sooner I was gone, the sooner they could calm down. Dad helped me up while Sue dragged the twins out of their chairs because they wanted to stay and watch the two men fight.

I looked around while we hurried from our table to pay for our food. Everyone in the place watched the two men argue as though this were a dinner theater. I almost expected them to break out in applause at any moment.

After Dad paid for our meal and turned for the door, Marisol slipped a small piece of paper into my hand. Making eye contact she smiled briefly before turning her attention back to the argument that was on the verge of becoming a fight.