Part 11 (1/2)
I wouldn't go that far, but it was hard to argue from her perspective. It was a perfect night-eighty degrees with a balmy breeze, a half moon over Fisher Island, and no one else's music a.s.saulting our ears. The only disturbance, if you could call it that, was the intermittent rumble of a low-flying jet on its way out of Miami International. For me, they have a certain cosmopolitan appeal, especially when they bank right toward South America. I picture exotic people like my neighbors Ronaldo and Tandra jetting back and forth to Rio or Buenos Aires.
”I've had some trouble adjusting to Miami, I have to admit. I feel like a total outsider most of the time.”
Mari shook her head and leaned across the table to squirt lemon juice all over my cracked crab claws. ”You do that to yourself. Miami opens its arms to everyone. All you have to do is walk in and make it yours.”
”Which is a whole lot easier if A, you speak Spanish, and B, you have a boatload of cash.”
”Have you tried to learn Spanish? They teach it practically everywhere.”
I wanted to snap that I shouldn't have to learn another language to get along in America, but not at the expense of marring this perfect night. ”I studied it in high school but I forgot most of what I learned. And even if I were fluent, there'd still be that little cash problem. I know I shouldn't complain because I'm better off than a lot of people in Miami, and I'm lucky enough to live in a good neighborhood.”
”Even if you can't afford it,” she added with a wink.
I thought she'd push me again to let the bank foreclose, but that single teasing jibe was all she had. We spent the next thirty minutes savoring stone crab and fresh greens salad, and then she cleared the table of all but the wine.
”When my family first came to Miami,” she told me, ”they lived together in a small house in Little Havana. Everyone found work, even my father and Pepe, and they were just kids. Fifteen years later, Mima owned a dozen convenience stores and a huge house in the Gables. They went from having everything in Cuba to having nothing here, and then having everything again. This is a land of opportunity for those who dream big.”
I remembered her explaining how even Saraphine could build a comfortable nest egg for retirement, but that wouldn't work if she got sick or her company sold the supermarket chain to someone who didn't keep up her benefits. Mordy was right when he said the rules don't work for workers anymore.
So while I didn't want to sound argumentative, I didn't share her optimism. ”I used to believe that too, but it's not as true as it was even ten years ago. The game's rigged now in favor of people who already have money. Don't take this the wrong way-I'm not judging you or what you do-but these people who make billions of dollars and then try to squirrel everything away in offsh.o.r.e accounts so they won't have to pay taxes are killing the rest of us.”
”I'll give you that-some people are just plain greedy-but they aren't the only ones gaming the system. People of all income levels work off the books so they won't have to pay taxes. And we're all complicit. I saw you write a receipt to that guy from the hardware store for two bathroom cabinets when one of them was damaged. It was nice they donated but they got an extra tax break they didn't really deserve because you gave them credit for two and threw one away.”
Moses on a moose! I couldn't believe she remembered that. ”But I didn't do that for myself.”
”I know. I'm only pointing out that hiding from the taxman is a widespread problem, something that's become normalized across all of society. It just shows up more among the rich because it's obscene to want tax breaks when you have more than you could ever spend.”
”Do you think I'm a hypocrite?”
Mari reached across the table and squeezed my hand. ”I'm not judging you either. I like how pa.s.sionate you are, and we don't have to agree on every little thing. Like I told you, I think you're cla.s.sy. You have no idea how refres.h.i.+ng it is to talk to someone who isn't totally wrapped up in herself.”
A compliment for me and another dig at Delores, who must have been a real piece of work. To her other unpleasant traits, I'd have to add stupidity for letting someone like Mari get away. ”I don't even know Delores and I think she's an idiot.”
She huffed. ”She's been calling me...wants to meet for dinner. That's what that message was at work.”
”The one you threw in the trash?”
”Yeah, my friend Gladys-one of the girls I was with at the Wallcast-says she wants to smooth things over because we have all the same friends and it makes people uncomfortable. But then Clara thinks she wants to go out again, which is absurd. What, she thinks it's all okay now since I got my record expunged? That's insane.”
Except there was something in her voice that sounded more like hurt than incredulity. I would have preferred foaming-at-the-mouth fury, especially after experiencing firsthand the siren's song of familiarity when Emily had called. If I could entertain the idea of taking a sleaze like Emily back, Mari could do the same with Delores.
Just as Mari had saved me from myself by asking me out to Mahler, I was obligated to return the favor. ”Yeah, it's crazy to even think about it. Why would you want to give her another shot at your client list?”
”Exactly!”
”Okay, Mari. What are you not telling me?”
”Beg your pardon?”
I started counting her attributes off on my fingers. ”You like romantic dinners on the terrace, intelligent conversation...and you help people like Saraphine when there's nothing in it for you. You're an incredible kisser, to say nothing of your other talents.”
She rolled her eyes indulgently before draining her winegla.s.s.
”I just don't understand how you can be single. There ought to be a dozen women out here trying to toss me over this railing.”
”I could say all those things about you too, you know. And yet, here we are...the two of us, all alone and desperate.” She poured another touch of wine in both gla.s.ses, and then corked the bottle. ”I'll fess up if you will.”
”You want me to spell out why Emily dumped me?” I could offer excuses and my elaborate rationale, but I own what I own. ”I guess I stopped being fun. I tried really hard to like it here, but after she started working long hours, we quit doing all the things that make this a cool place to live. My whole life was driving to work in gridlock, fighting with people at the deli counter and coming home to eat dinner by myself. I complained...a lot.”
”Sounds like you had a right to.”
”I certainly thought so, but she said that's why she”-trotting out my dramatic voice-”sought comfort in the arms of another.”
Mari huffed. ”Le ronca el mango.”
”Mango?”
”It's a Cuban expression-literally speaking, it snores the mango. Mima says it all the time. Don't ask me why, but it's what you say when you think something's ridiculous. It's never your fault when your partner is unfaithful.”
Snoring mangos means something is ridiculous...works for me. ”She was probably right about the complaining. I'm sure it was a real drag to listen to it all the time, so I've tried not to be negative about everything, at least out loud. I don't want that to define who I am.”
”That's one of the things I like about you, Daphne. You own up to your problems and try to fix them. Everyone should do that instead of blaming others. I still get mad at Delores for having me arrested, but I'm the one who lost her cool. I need to own up to that.”
I have a special fondness for conversations that include things a beautiful woman likes about me. It's true I'm in a constant state of fixing myself, and I'm not above specifically fixing things to appeal to Mari. That said, learning to speak Spanish probably isn't on my list.
”What about you, Mari? What's your fatal flaw?”
”My fatal flaw...” She slowly twirled the stem of her winegla.s.s. ”I've been told I can be a bit...clingy.”
”Clingy?”
”Apparently I don't give people enough s.p.a.ce. I personally think being in a relations.h.i.+p is all about sharing s.p.a.ce, but some people don't see it that way.”
”Some people...you mean Delores.”
”Let me give you an example. We both saw clients in the evenings sometimes. No big deal. But she used to get bent out of shape because I wanted her to call me if she wasn't coming home for dinner.” She gestured at the table. ”The last time I set a table like this out here, she didn't even get home until ten o'clock. No call, no text, and my calls kept going to voice mail. Then when she got home, she realized I'd been waiting for her. Instead of apologizing-what a concept-she gave me grief for expecting her to be here...said she didn't want to have to check in like a teenager with her parents.”
I was unbelievably tempted to tell her she could cling to me all she wanted, and that I'd happily call and text her a dozen times a day to tell her exactly where I was. ”It's just common courtesy.”
”Right, but she said it felt like a leash. And to be honest, my girlfriend before Delores told me kind of the same thing, so there must be something to it. Maya said she was worried about losing herself, that she wasn't ready to be a single ent.i.ty with someone else. She was only twenty-two, so that's reasonable, but still...I guess I just have a different view of relations.h.i.+ps.”
”I get what you're saying. When you're partners with somebody, you really do turn into one ent.i.ty. You can't make decisions just for yourself anymore because you have to consider the other person, even if it's just dinner.”
”Exactly, because when you don't, you start taking each other for granted.”
”I don't know, Mari. As fatal flaws go, that one's not much to write home about. Tell me the truth. Do you sleep in your socks? Snore like a mango?”