“You live over two hundred miles from here,” I say. It’s not like I’m not totally thrilled to see her, but she’s the last person I expected.
“Don’t I know it. Your abuelo almost got us killed four times. The man thinks he doesn’t have to signal or wait for an opening when he wants to switch lanes. It’s like he’s driving us to see Jesus himself.”
Dear God. “I hope you’re not going home today,” I tell her.
I see her eyeing Ben like he’s a popsicle and she’s been sunbathing on the equator. “Hello, Dr. Banana Pants,” she says with a wink. “I love watching you and my granddaughter on television.”
“Um, hi there, Mrs. Lopez?” Ben says awkwardly. My abuela seriously looks like she’s about to throw all five feet of herself at Ben.
“You can call me Maria,” she says, really rolling the ‘r’ in her name. Then she looks at me and adds, “Abuelo and I thought we’d stay with you while you are here.”
“How nice! Were you able to get a room in the same hotel?”
“Of course,” she brushes her palms across each other. “Because we’re staying in your room with you!”
What?! I force a smile and manage, “I hope I have a room with two beds then.”
“We can put Abuelo on a rollaway, if not.”
My phone pings before I can say anything else. It’s a text from Waltraut.
Waltraut: Hey, sorry, just got your message. Our intern totally messed up on our end. Looks like he didn’t order a car to pick you up and he couldn’t get two rooms at the hotel, so he booked you and Ben into a suite. There are two bedrooms and two baths though, so that shouldn’t be a problem, right?
Oh. My. God. While that would probably be okay if it was just the two of us, I have no idea how it’s going to work with my grandparents staying with us. How in the world am I going to break this to Ben?
Twenty-Four
Ben
If I thought space travel sounded daunting, it’s got nothing on being in the backseat while Lorenzo Lopez is at the wheel. He swerves wildly and weaves in and out of traffic as though he’s Luke Skywalker fighting the Death Star. By the time we get off the freeway, I’m horribly nauseated and my muscles are contracted so tightly, I’m pretty sure I’m moments away from having a seizure of some kind.
I cannot wait to get to my room to lie down for a while so my body can recalibrate back to my normal not about to die setting. Serafina, who is sitting next to me, seems to find the whole thing utterly amusing. She didn’t even freak out when her abuelo almost side-swiped a semi. She did, however, laugh until tears were sliding down her cheeks because I screamed (in a pitch so high, I had no idea I could reach it), followed by yelling, “We’re all going to die!”
Before that little moment, I was actually feeling a bit sorry for Serafina. Having to share a hotel room with your grandparents sounds like a horror. Not that I didn’t love my Grammy and Poppy, because I definitely did. They were wonderful, and if they were still alive, I’d happily share everything I have with them. But still, in my humble opinion, hotel rooms are barely big enough for one.
Maria has been peppering me with questions since we pulled away from the terminal.
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m very busy.”
“With what?”
“My job.”
“You silly young people, worrying about your careers so much. This one is the same way,” she says, pointing to Serafina. “I always tell her, ‘Sera, your job won’t keep you warm at night or feed you soup when you’re sick.’”
Serafina nods as if to mean yup, she tells me that ALL the time.
I smile at Maria, who is basically sitting backwards in her seat while her husband accelerates to stop a motorcycle from cutting into our lane. “But if you make enough money, you can afford to adequately heat your home and you can order in soup.”
Maria gives me a placating look. She’s not buying it.
“Have you ever been married?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Same answer as before. I’m busy.”
More head shaking. “How many siblings do you have?”
“None.”
“Why didn’t your parents give you any brothers and sisters?”
“My dad ran out on us and my mom had nothing but bad luck with men after that.”
“What kind of father runs out on his son?” Maria gasps.
“A bad one.”
Serafina interrupts, “Abuela, maybe that’s enough questions for now, okay?”
“Why? This is how I get to know people.”
“Not everyone feels comfortable sharing details about their personal lives,” she says. “Oh, there’s our hotel!”
Lorenzo slams on the brakes, not caring one iota that there are dozens of cars behind us.
“Right there,” Maria tells him, reaching across his face to point.
He guns it and makes a left into oncoming traffic. I close my eyes and wince, waiting for the impact of the UPS truck that’s about to end my life. But then, I feel Serafina patting me on the hand. “It’s okay. We made it.”
I open one eye just in time to see Lorenzo pull the car into a stall, then he hits the brakes, causing Serafina and me to nearly faceplant into the seat backs. Although tiny and seemingly frail, Maria must have abs of steel because she didn’t budge.
Once we’re out of the car, I forego kissing the pavement because that would not only be disgusting, but pretty embarrassing. I do thank my lucky stars that I’ve thus far survived today and promise myself I’ll never get into a vehicle with that man again. Ever. After pulling the suitcases out of the trunk, I smile at Serafina’s grandparents. “Thank you so much for the ride. It was lovely meeting you both.”
“You’re welcome,” Lorenzo says.
I smile down at Serafina, and continue, “Let’s text each other later to set up a time to leave for Kennedy. Have a wonderful night getting caught up.”
Nuts. I forgot they have to check in, too. As they all trail behind me to the entrance, I realize I shouldn’t have made such a deal about saying goodbye to them in the parking lot.
Serafina tells her grandparents to go have a seat on one of the palm tree print couches while she checks them in. Then she hurries to stand next to me in line.
“I hope you’re not a line cutter,” I tease. “Because I got here first.”
“Ha! Hardly,” she tells me. “So, here’s the thing…”
She pauses long enough for me to get a little nervous which is not what I need after the day I’ve had. Instead of saying anything, she hands me her phone, then waits while I read. “No … nononononononono. This is completely unacceptable. I don’t have roommates. Ever. No. Not happening.”
I hand her back her phone and see she’s wearing an apologetic expression. “I had no idea they were coming.”
“I gathered that.” I rub the bridge of my nose under my glasses. “No matter. I’ll just sort it out at the desk. There’s no way the hotel is sold out. And even if they are, I’m sure I can find a room somewhere.”