Bistro Provence in Bethesda was suitably quiet for a mid-week when both Senate and Congress were out of session. Carlos looked out the window as he waited for Emilia to return from the restroom. Their monthly meal together had lacked its normal vibrancy - the food was excellent, rather Carlos felt a gap between him and his sister. They were not siblings who shared every facet of their lives but there was extra distance between them.
Emilia had steadfastly avoided the topic Carlos wanted to discuss.
The waiter removed their plates and Emilia excused herself to visit the restroom. Carlos ordered coffee and took the opportunity to settle the bill, winning the small contest he and his sister engaged in every month.
Emilia returned, “Sorry. I had to take a call from the office.” As she sat down she noticed the tray by Carlos’ arm and smiled. “I see you got the check. I’m sure it was my turn.”
“Younger brother’s prerogative. Enjoy your coffee.” He smiled back. A moment of ease in the evening.
“Have you been back to Abuela’s?” she asked, leaning back slightly as the waiter placed a fine porcelain cup and saucer before her.
“A couple of times. I didn’t see anything Sylvia and I will use, and it’s not as if we were so close to her that there is anything hugely sentimental. Maybe the clock on the mantel in the front room.” He sipped his coffee. “What about you?”
“There’s a pair of Queen Anne chairs in the same room, I think they would go well in my conservatory. But no, nothing else. Have you arranged a clearance yet?”
“I didn’t want to do that until we were both ready. Though I do have a realtor all excited about advertising a Montgomery Lane property.”
Emilia nodded. “Well, whenever you want, get someone in.” She drained her coffee and set the cup down, a gentle clink as it rested on the saucer. “I thought next month we should go to Plume again.” She started to stand and Carlos mirrored her movement.
“Fine, though it will have to be later in the month. I have to go to Atlanta and I don’t think I’ll be back until the eighteenth.” He said, and cursed himself for failing to take the slim opportunity she had presented.
They took their coats and exited into a sharp wind blowing up from the bay. Emilia leaned over to kiss Carlos on the cheek and he let her, waiting until she turned to walk away, before speaking.
“Why did you lie about the photographs?”
Emilia stopped. A siren blipped briefly somewhere in the distance and the restaurant door opened behind them, spilling more convivial patrons onto the sidewalk. One of them lit a cigarette and the aroma blew past on the wind. Carlos stepped around Emilia, standing in front of her.
“We need to talk about this. I want to know.”
“Do you? Why?”
He shook his head and his brow furrowed, “Isn’t that obvious?”
“Not really.” She twisted and brushed past him. “Let it go Carlos,” she called over her shoulder. He was about to go after her, but she flagged down a cab and got in. Emilia stared straight ahead as the cab accelerated away.
#
“So, how was Atlanta?” asked Sylvia.
“Overly humid outside, overly air-conditioned inside,” said Carlos.
Sylvia edged the car out of the parking bay and into the flow of traffic. Carlos pulled on his seatbelt. They crawled along the Eisenhower Memorial with the rest of the commuters, and he rested his head back, relieved to be heading home. They drove in silence for a time.
“Emilia came to see me last week,” said Sylvia.
“Really.”
“Do you want to know why?”
“I’m tired honey. She was pretty blunt when I phoned her.”
“Well, she feels bad about that, and she’s worried you won’t want to do your monthly dinner.”
“Really.”
“I hate when you just keep saying really. It means you aren’t engaging.”
Carlos opened his eyes and turned to face his wife. “Really.”
Sylvia backhanded him, striking his arm, they both laughed gently.
“What else did my big sister want?” Carlos asked.
Sylvia’s smile stiffened, “She wanted to talk about your Abuela Soto.”
“So, she’ll talk to you, but not me. If I wasn’t so tired I’d be angry. No, damn it, I am angry.”
“Well, you can calm down. She only called because she wanted me to convince you to drop it.”
They leaned sideways in unison as Sylvia turned off the highway and the cloverleaf fed them down into Hagerstown.
“Did she really?”
“I promised you would.”
“Why the hell would you promise such a thing?”
“Because I already found out.”
Carlos stared at Sylvia, her face lit dimly by the glow from the dash. She looked straight ahead, concentrating on the SUV trying to squeeze into the space between them and the bus ahead. He looked for the flicker of a smile that might suggest she was mocking him, jesting at his expense. Jamming a thumb on the horn Sylvia flashed headlights at the SUV, its driver jerked back out of their lane.
“Are you going to tell me?”
“When we get home.”
The rest of the journey passed in silence. Harassing her for answers would be pointless, so Carlos contented himself with letting questions wait, speculating on what she may have found. Turning into their street he could see a car in their driveway.
“We have visitors?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you going to tell me who?”
“It’s about your Abuela.”
“Oh.”
Part One
Part Three
Part Four
story by stuartcturnbull, picture by FranDuque via Pixabay
