Lex

The dinner was fabulous. I ate some of the pork over rice, like Maria suggested, and then had some with tortillas, like Adam insisted. Sitting at the table feeling like a swollen toad, I alternated glances between them.

“Eat,” Maria said, wagging her fork toward my empty plate. “You’re going to blow away with the Santa Ana winds.”

She was a beautiful woman that was at least a foot shorter than Adam, and eight inches shorter than me. She was far more petite than I expected, and it was difficult to believe she gave birth to someone as big as he was.

Her black shoulder-length hair was sprinkled with strands of gray. The contrast added to her natural beauty, and was the only indication I could find that was indicative of her age.

I rubbed my stomach and smiled. “I’m stuffed, really.”

She lifted a piece of pork to her mouth. “You’re so thin.”

“I’m tall,” I said. “It makes me seem skinny, but I’m not.”

“She ate as much as me, mother,” Adam said.

“You picked at your food.” She pointed her fork at him. “You don’t like my chile?”

“The chile is good, mother. I’m full.”

She lowered the utensil and glared. “Did you eat before you came?”

He let out a dramatic sigh. “We ate half the pot of chile. We’re full.”

She waved her hand toward the pot. “What am I going to do with all this chile?”

“I’ll eat it when I come in the morning.”

She looked at me, and then at Adam. “I’ll send some home with Alexandra.”

“We’re on the bike,” he complained. “She can’t take any with her.”

She scowled at him. “Put it in your little boxes.”

“They’re bags. Saddle bags, mother, not saddle boxes.”

“They look like boxes,” she said, forming a box in the air with her fingers. “You can put it in the boxes.”

Adam looked at me. I shrugged and then smiled. “I’d love to take some home.”

“Fine. Put some in a Tupperware for her,” he said. “Make it small.”

“I’ll make it how I make it.” After a short glare at Adam, she looked at me. “You’re never married?”

The question surprised me. “Oh. No, ma’am. Never married.”

She placed the palm of her hand over mine and grinned. “Do you like children?”

“I do.”

“After you marry. How many children do you wish for?”

I smiled at the thought of having kids. I hadn’t given it much serious thought, but my kneejerk reaction to her question was three.

“I don’t know. Maybe three.”

She squeezed my hand, and then looked at Adam. She raised three fingers in the air and grinned. “Three is a good number.”

“Nobody is having kids, mother,” he said, his voice conveying his annoyance with her questions. “We just came for dinner.”

“These are things that need to be discussed. Go shine your motorcycle.”

He waved his hand toward her and pushed his chair away from the table slightly.

She gave him the stink eye for a moment, and then looked at me. “Are you Catholic?”

“I am.”

“Do you use the drugs?”

“Mother!” Adam howled.

I laughed. “No ma’am. I’ll drink a few beers, that’s it.”

She squeezed my hand again. “You’re a good girl. Come with me. We’ll make you a plate to take home.”

Although Adam didn’t seem to appreciate her prying information from me, I thought it was cute. I followed her to the kitchen, and together we prepared a dish for me to take home. As she handed it to me, she looked me in the eyes.

“He’s my only boy,” she said. “Don’t break his heart.”

I had no idea if the questions and comments she had made were a result of wishful thinking or if he had confided information in her that I knew nothing about.

I decided it didn’t matter.

I had no idea where Adam and I were headed, but I knew if there was a heart that was going to be broken, it wouldn’t be his.

I accepted the dish and gave her a hug. With my chin resting lightly on her shoulder, I responded.

“I won’t,” I whispered. “I promise.”