Mother and son froze for the entirety of a minute. Eventually, they broke contact, and he let her inside.
“Hello, Mrs. Medina,” I said. She looked at my outstretched hand and pushed it to the side. She caught me by surprise into a hug, and I couldn’t help but hug her back. It was hard not to become emotional. I hadn’t embraced a mother of any kind in a long time.
“Please,” she said in broken English, “call me Marisela.”
Once I could see her face, I realized she wore a little bit of makeup, and short, pearl, teardrop earrings. She gave off an air of elegance, but it was understated and subtle. I could only describe her in one word:Grace.
“We can switch to Spanish if you’d like,” I said in Spanish. After that, all our conversations were in Spanish. It intimidated me a bit. Obviously, she and Hector would speak the proper Spain-derived Spanish of the Mexican elite, while mine would be MexicanbarrioSpanish—’hood Spanish. I was relieved when neither of them commented on my linguistic shortcomings in our native tongue.
“Who is this?” she asked Hector but didn’t move her mother’s gaze away from me.
“This is Carolina Ramirez. She is a doctor at the hospital I work at now.”
“Oh?” his mom asked as she studied me from shoes to face.
“Yes, Mrs.—I mean, Marisela. Your son is my boss. I helped him get the house ready for your arrival.”
She looked back and forth between us, making me shift my weight from one foot to the other.
“Mamá,” Hector whined. “Iwas going to pick you up from the airport.”
“I’m perfectly capable of taking a car,” she said.
“Andyou lied to me about what time your flight was coming in.”
“Well, how else was I going to manage to get a car? You are too busy. I wasn’t going to bother you.” She playfully palmed his cheeks twice. “I’m starving,” she said. “Let’s go out to lunch.”
“I’ll be heading home,” I said. “Marisela, it was so nice to meet you. I hope you enjoy your time in Kansas City.”
She turned to me and pinned me with a look of warning. “No. You must join us.”
“I can’t . . .” I said as I looked down and pulled on the hem of the ratty old workout t-shirt I had worn in preparation for sweating and heavy lifting.
“Oh, you both can go as you are. We aren’t going anywhere fancy.”
“That’s right,” Hector said. “Mom loves going to American chain cafés when she’s in the states.”
“I do,” she said. “Please join us.”
There was no way out of this lunch. I wasn’t supposed to meet his mother. My part of the deal was to help him get ready for her arrival, not tomeether. Still, I couldn’t stop grinning.
We drove separately so I could make my escape after lunch and give them time to catch up. When we got to the café, Hector ordered our food at the counter. Marisela and I settled in at a corner table with a view of the patio.
“So,” she said, “how long have you been working with my son?”
“A few months.”
“Is he a good boss?”
“He’s okay,” I said, surprising myself.
She laughed. “I value honesty.”
I smiled at her. Hector brought us our coffee after placing our order. “You two talking about me?” he asked.
“We wouldn’t dare,” his mom said.
“So,” I said. “Where in Mexico do you live?”