abby addams (ayuda) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2017-09-28 15:03:00 |
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The voice of Celia Cruz filled the room -- yo viviré, allí estaré, mientras pase una comparsa con mi rumba cantaré -- and Camila sighed heavily. It was her mother’s favorite song, so of course Camila had set it as the ringtone whenever her mother called her. She recalled the first time her mother had realized it was her ringtone: Camila had misplaced her phone and used her mother’s to call it, and her mother had started dancing in the living room. She’d wailed when it stopped, and then played it for herself instead. The memory brought a smile to Camila’s face, even if the prospect of interrupting her studies with a phone call didn’t. She knew her mother wouldn’t leave her alone if she didn’t answer, though, so she picked up the phone. “Bueno, mami.” “Ah, mija, are you not in class?” “Claro que no. I wouldn’t answer if I was.” Camila sighed. “I was studying, actually.” The library was much too quiet, so she’d taken up residence at a table in the corner of Stella’s. It’d become her regular spot in the last few weeks. So regular, even, that the baristas started her order as soon as she walked in. Her mother didn’t need to know how much money she was spending on coffee. “Oh, I won’t bother you for long --” “You’re not bothering me.” “I only wanted to make sure you were okay. You’re eating enough?” “Yes, mami.” “Are you sleeping?” “Mami, honestly, it’s like you think I’m still a kid.” On the other end of the phone, her mother scoffed. “You know you’ll always be my baby. It’s only, it’s lonely now that you’ve left me too.” “I didn’t leave you, I left for --” “Same difference. I can’t see you every day,” her mother complained, conveniently having forgotten the four years Camila was up state in college and wasn’t living at home anymore, “I miss having you here to help me in the restaurant, I missed hearing your voice. Humor your mamá, will you?” Camila smiled, and that time it was genuine. She missed her mother too. Not enough to tuck her tail between her legs and go home, but she missed knowing she could go back home any time she wanted. She even missed her mother’s fussing now that she was far enough away that it had to happen only over the phone. It’d been just the two of them for seven years now, and at least when she was at Florida State, she could drive home for a weekend visit. Not so anymore. She could give her mother this one thing. “How’s the restaurant doing?” It was easier to ask about what was going on in her mother’s life than to talk about her own, how she felt overwhelmed and out of place, how she hadn’t been sleeping well ever since that strange dream about a man bleeding out onto her carpet. Her mother definitely wouldn’t have wanted to hear about the karaoke nights, though she might be glad to know Camila had made friends. “It isn’t the same without you…” Camila groaned. “Not this again.” “I know, I know, you’re following your dreams, and I am proud of you, even if they’ve taken you from me.” “I’ll be home for Thanksgiving. Promise. No one makes tamales right up here. It’s pure torture.” “Perhaps then I’ll open my second restaurant in Virginia,” her mother suggested with a laugh so bright that it both warmed Camila’s heart and cracked it a little, “so that they no longer have to suffer.” "Oh, no, don't say that. I might be tempted to quit school and work there full time." "Well, we can't have that." |