Something Like Winter (56 page)

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 back 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?”