Chapter Thirty-five
“Mexico City?” said the woman behind the counter as she eyed their passports.
She had their reservation on the screen and probably wouldn’t hear his response, but Tim went along with this strange airport ritual and answered in the affirmative. Then he glanced back at Ben, whose attention was elsewhere. Tracing his line of sight, Tim saw a group of flight attendants, chatting happily as they pulled their luggage behind them.
Of course.
That would explain the return of Ben’s haunted look. The woman at the counter spoke again, Tim nodding through the rest of the process. Had another of his ideas failed already? If so, he only had himself to blame. Of course an airport would make Ben think of Jace—astronaut of the stratosphere. And now that Tim considered the situation, he remembered Jace had often whisked Ben away to exotic destinations.
The realization made him want to drive to Mexico City instead, especially when Ben remained silent all through the security screening. But once past this procedure, Tim began feeling optimistic. He loved the buzz of an airport, how everybody was jetting off to somewhere new or finally returning home again. Everyone was in transition, no one truly belonging there, which meant no one was an outsider. All were of equal status. At least until it came time to board.
“This is going to be fun,” Tim said.
Ben managed a smile. “It’s been a long time since I travelled. How long is the flight?”
“About two and a half hours.”
“Should we stock up on drinks and snacks?”
“Why?” Tim asked. “They’ll be serving us lunch, and we get all the drinks we want.”
“Since when?”
“Since always. We’re flying business class, baby!”
Ben perked up. “Really? I’ve only flown economy before.”
This made all the difference. Faced with a new experience, Ben focused on where they were going instead of where he had been—and with whom. During the flight, they played with the seat controls like a couple of kids, taking shameless advantage of all the perks and privileges the overpriced seats brought them. The flight attendants—all of them female, thankfully—treated them like royalty. Time flew by like the clouds, and the plane soon began circling a sprawling metropolis as it began its descent.
Tim leaned over Ben’s lap, both of them looking out the window. “Wait until you see the city at night. It’s like the land is on fire.”
Ben would see it every night. Tim hadn’t just splurged on business class tickets. The hotel suite he had reserved was magnificent. From their room on the twenty-third floor, Ben would view the city like an emperor on high. Then Tim would drag him into the Jacuzzi built for two. Maybe he’d even have the tub filled with champagne instead of water. Tim would love to have a limo pick them up at the airport, but one small kink had formed in his romantic plans.
“I told you my abuelita is picking us up from the airport, right?”
“Your what?”
“My grandma, Nana.”
“No.” Ben shot him a nervous glance. “Does she know about me?”
Tim laughed. “Don’t worry. She’s not nearly as bad as my parents. I mean, I thought she would be worse. Not in a mean way,” he added quickly. “I figured my sexuality would break her heart. Instead she mostly took it in stride.”
“Mostly?”
“Well, we don’t exactly talk about it much. And she’s never seen me with another guy. That’s going to be weird.”
Ben stared until Tim nudged him, triggering a smile. “Well, I’m looking forward to meeting her. Remember how I did all that research on Mexico City to impress your mom?”
Tim groaned. “Yes, and please, just be yourself. No hammy book reports.”
“Of course not.” Ben paused. “Did you know that Mexico City has the largest public transportation network in the world?”
“Stop,” Tim pleaded.
“And the most affordable, making it a form of transit that truly belongs to the people.”
“Shoot me now,” Tim begged. “Put me out of my misery!”
Ben kept teasing him with all the facts he could still remember, but as the plane touched down, Tim began to worry. What if his grandmother couldn’t cope with seeing him and Ben together? Then again, they weren’t going to make out in front of her or anything, even though Tim would jump at the opportunity. They still hadn’t kissed since the night of the gallery opening. He respected that Ben wanted to take it slow, but waiting for him to make the first move was driving Tim crazy.
Stomachs burbling with nerves, they waited at the luggage carousel until their bags appeared. Tim took both of them, sending Ben a cocky wink that belied how uncertain he felt about the situation.
Nana, here is the love of my life. Love of my life, here is my grandma. Now duke it out!
Customs let them pass without much difficulty, the fogged glass doors opening automatically to generic airport corridors full of waiting people. He scanned the eager faces, aiming low since Nana was short. He spotted her hair first, which she wore high like a honey-colored helmet. Below this were huge amber sunglasses and a smile, her arms opening in invitation as she happily declared, “¡Mi nieto!”
Tim grinned, his worries temporarily forgotten as he set down the luggage and moved toward the woman who was stout, dark, and wrinkled—like a bag of brown sugar. As she took Tim in her arms, he remembered that she was just as sweet. She kissed both his cheeks. Holding his face in her hands, she examined him. “¡Tan hermoso!”
Feeling about eight years old, Tim gently moved her hands away and nodded to Ben. “Nana, éste es mi novio, Ben.” There. Just like in his fantasy, he said it. He used the word “boyfriend” instead of “love of my life,” but it was out there now. Tim held his breath.
Nana looked at Ben and threw her arms open wide, giving him the same treatment she’d given Tim, except instead of calling Ben handsome, she said bonito. Beautiful. Tim agreed.
“It is very good to meet you, Ben,” Nana said with practiced care. Her accent was so thick she made his name sound like “bean.”
“It’s wonderful to meet you,” Ben replied.
“I drive you home,” Nana said. “Then I make you for lunch.”
Tim chuckled, imagining Ben tied up on the table with an apple in his mouth. “Your English is good,” he said, picking the bags up again. “¡Muy bueno!”
“We have Englishman next door,” Nana said, taking his arm on one side and Ben’s on the other as she led them away. “I make him practice with me one time a week. We have tea together. Nice old man. One time he want to kiss me.” She giggled like a little girl, looking back and forth between them as they headed to the parking lot. Nana chatted about her other neighbors, then family members Tim didn’t know. She continued talking as they piled into her old Cadillac.
Traffic in Mexico City was notorious, rush hour turning the highways into parking lots. Nana was obviously mindful of this, checking the clock on her dashboard repeatedly as they drove in a race against time. She could barely see over the steering wheel, navigating the traffic with blind instinct as she continued to update him on family gossip, cars occasionally careening out of the way to avoid being hit.
Tim kept glancing at Ben in the backseat as she chattered. He was looking out the windows, no doubt wondering if coming here was such a great idea. Mexico City, like most places, wasn’t best seen by car. Of course Tim could already spot architecture that made his mouth water, but the beautiful side of the city would reveal itself as soon as they reached his grandmother’s neighborhood.
“How is my Ella?” Nana asked as they neared the south side of the city.
“Mom’s fine.”
Pencil-thin eyebrows just managed to rise above the sunglasses. “Fine? Nothing more?”
“As far as I know.”
Nana slipped back into Spanish. «She never has much to say about you, either. I keep telling her that a mother is a part of her son’s life, whether he likes it or not.»
«I’d love it,» Tim replied. «She’s busy with Dad, as always.»
«Is that why?»
Of course not, but Tim wasn’t about to explain the real reason to his grandmother. He felt lucky Nana didn’t seem to be concerned about his sexuality, but he didn’t want to hear her agreeing with his mother about who goes to Hell.
«I’ll try harder,» Tim said. «I saw them just the other day, but I didn’t stay long.»
Nana nodded as if satisfied and took the exit to Xochimilco, the neighborhood and popular tourist spot where she lived. On either side of the street were never-ending walls, obscuring most of the homes behind from view. The monotony of this wall was broken by windows and doors, gates and garages, flower boxes and ornaments.
Nana’s house was pure comfort. As they pulled up, Tim took the key from her, hopped out, and opened the gate. Beyond was just enough room for her to park in front of the orange two-story building. After guiding the car in, Tim went to open Ben’s door, smiling the whole time. Just being here felt good. He took Ben’s hand and helped him out, amused by how hard Ben was trying to appear comfortable when he clearly wasn’t. Then Tim went to the trunk for their luggage. They’d take a train to the hotel later instead of risking traffic again.
“Where is the fat one?” Nana cried as if they had forgotten something important.
“Chinchilla?” Tim asked, hefting a suitcase to the brick pavement.
Nana nodded, eyeing the suitcase as if she expected the dog to hop out at any moment.
“She’s with a friend. She could have flown with us, but they would have put her in cargo.” Normally Tim preferred to drive down, but Ben didn’t have a lot of time off. So he had entrusted Marcello with Chinchilla’s well-being. He just hoped Chinchilla didn’t demand truffle purée and chilled champagne from now on.
“Ah!” Nana took Ben by the elbow. “Instead, you bring another beautiful creature. Come inside. I make enough food to kill an army.”
Tim laughed as he followed them in. The best thing about any grandmother’s house is the smell—like baby powder and fresh flowers, or maybe freshly washed sheets hanging in the sun, or sugar cookies cooling on a wire rack. If scientists could reproduce that scent and pump it into the open air, wars would cease, and whole armies would trade their guns for toys.
Nana’s house was a series of small rooms, the walls decorated with the same frames and knick-knacks that had been there since his childhood. Only the photos changed as children in the family grew older. And of course the painting he had brought her last time. That was in a place of honor in the dining room. Aside from it, all the furniture and baubles were comfortingly familiar.
“I have work in the kitchen.” Nana said in the small living room. “Then we eat.”
“I can help,” Ben offered.
“No, no. You a guest here. Relax. You can do the dishes later.”
“She’s kidding,” Tim said as she left the room.
“I ain’t scared of no dishes,” Ben said in a gruff voice.
“You will be when you see the feast she’s cooking up. Last time there wasn’t a clean plate left in the house.”
Ben pointed to a black and white photo of a little girl in a summer dress. “Is that you, Gordita?”
“It’s Gordito, and no, that’s my mom. Smart ass. Come on, I’ll give you a tour.”
They walked through the rooms on the first floor, avoiding the kitchen. Tim tried to express the memories he had made here, but most weren’t great stories. They were just him playing with his grandmother or watching her cook his favorite dishes, even if the rest of the family was having something different.
Upstairs were a couple of rooms and a bathroom. In Nana’s sewing room, Ben stood at the window, looking out at the neighborhood below. “It’s so different here,” he murmured.
“I know. Everything in the States is so polished and presentable. Mexico City, parts of it are completely relaxed, like when you put on a ratty old pair of sweatpants and stay inside.”
Ben turned from the window. “I love those days!”
“Yeah, me too. But Mexico City also has its evenings out, places where it puts on its best to impress. Or sometimes it dons stuffy business clothing or the latest fashion trends. Best of all, these places are often jumbled together. Wait until you see the hotel room. Smack dab in the middle of the city, and yet it’s so secluded and romantic that your poor little heart will explode.”
Ben gave him a curious look, as if this wasn’t the best news possible. “You should be a travel agent for Mexico,” he said as he strolled the room, taking in the details. “I had no idea about this part of your life. I mean, you mentioned your parents bringing you on vacation, but this is a whole new side to you. For me at least.”
“For me too, in a way. Since college, I’ve been coming down here more often. Usually I drive. You should come with me next time. There are tons of little tumbleweed villages along the way, some of them just like in the movies. Flying is faster, but you miss out on so much. You’re going to love it!”
Ben turned to him. “Already planning our next trip?”
Tim nodded. “Maybe.”
Ben smiled coyly.
“Is that a yes?”
“Sure. Sign me up.”
Tim grinned. “All right. If you’re lucky, Chinchilla might even let you sit in the front seat. Hey! Come downstairs. I want to show you something.”
Once back in the living room, Tim opened the wooden door to the backyard, which was just a strip of grass bordered by palms and a rickety old fence. Beyond this, water curved its way through the trees.
“There used to be a huge lake here,” Tim said. “Now the lake is gone, but there’s still a system of canals. And—well, check it out.”
Right on cue, a long narrow boat glided by. The boat had an open deck with a canvas roof and was painted with enough colors to give Jackson Pollock a headache. Tourists sat at a bench on board, drinking beer and staring at them as if they were part of the tour. Tim’s grandmother complained about the gringos, as if the loud tourists were there only to irritate her, but then she often sat out here and waved.
“Can we ride one of those?” Ben asked, sounding like a kid.
Tim grinned. “Hell yeah! But I wanted to show you this because it’s typical of Mexico City. Sometimes it might look a little drab and worn compared to what we’re used to, but then you walk around the corner or enter the right building and find something that blows you away. Something you’d never find back home.”
“¡Almuerzo!” a voice shouted from inside.
Ben’s puzzled expression made Tim want to melt. “That means lunch is ready,” he explained.
“Oh, good. I’m hungry!”
“Trust me, that’s the last time you’ll say that at my grandma’s house.”
* * * * *
“You aren’t staying here? Why you want hotel?”
Tim eyed Nana from across a table cluttered with half-empty platters and pans. Maybe her English hadn’t been off when she said she would cook enough to kill an army. Tim doubted even a hundred men could eat everything on the table without exploding.
“We don’t want to inconvenience you,” Tim said.
“Inconvenience?”
“Molestia.”
“You think having my grandson here makes a problem?”
Of course not, but it did put a cramp in his romantic intentions. “I already have a room booked.”
Nana waved a hand dismissively. “Your father always say the same thing. My own daughter never sleeps here.”
Nana, master of the guilt trip.
“I’d love to stay here,” Ben said, nodding at Tim encouragingly. “It’ll be fun.”
Tim looked at Ben, picturing the hotel Jacuzzi, the dimly lit room, soft music, and the twinkling city lights beyond. That’s what they needed. Not the cozy comfort of a grandmother’s home. He focused on Ben, trying to silently communicate all of this. Staying here isn’t really what he wanted, was it? “Are you absolutely sure?”
“Yes!” Nana answered for him. “Oh, this is good. I better start dinner soon.”
“We’re going out,” Tim said, forcing a smile. “I want Ben to see more than just your dining room.”
“Yes, yes,” Nana said. She waggled her eyebrows. “Go out and be romantic. You want my car?”
“No, thanks. I think we need to walk this one off. Ready?”
He and Ben lumbered to their feet like pregnant women. A little exercise and fresh air were the only cure. If they took a nap now they’d probably end up in a coma. Besides, Mexico City had plenty of potential. A stroll through the streets, a kiss or two by a roaring fountain, and he and Ben would finally have their fresh start.