“I’m a PT tech at a physical therapy clinic.” The way she draws it out and takes a sip of wine tells me something I didn’t know.
“But you don’t like it?” I confirm.
“It’s not that I don’t like it. It’s just not my dream. It’s not fulfilling,” she says it with such conviction.
“You say it so decisively. What is your dream?” I tense, needing to know now.
She blushes and looks down, unsure. After a moment, she murmurs something under her breath, straightens her spine, and tells me something that changes me forever.
“My dream is being a mother. It’s my life’s purpose. I know I brushed up on it. And I know not everyone finds the honor in it. It’s outdated to some. But all I want is to be a mom. I want to have a house full of kids, full of love. I’d leave whatever job Ihave and focus on raising them while my husband works,” she says it softly, but I hear the truth in her words.
I can’t breathe. All I can see is a house full of children that look like her… and me. Our children. Running around. Her at home, waiting for me, love and adoration in her eyes.
It’s a future I want so badly, I vow to have it… no matter the cost.
“You’ll be an amazing mother. There’s so much honor in being a stay-at-home mom. They sacrifice so much for their children. I would never expect it of my wife, but I’d be grateful if that’s what she chooses to do,” I explain.
“You do? You really think it’s honorable and not lazy or outdated?” Her eyes fill with hope that I’m telling the truth, so I confide in her.
“My mom was a stay-at-home mom. She took care of us while my dad worked. She sacrificed so much to do so. I’m forever grateful to her for it,” I reveal.
“She sounds like an amazing woman,” Cecilia says with awe, and I’m pleased.
“She is. She’ll love you.” It comes out before I can think better. Bringing her home to Mom isn’t really a first date topic, even if I know it’ll happen eventually.
“I’d love to meet her,” she says with a smile. “Mamá had to work. She immigrated here from Ecuador when she was eighteen. She was all on her own when she moved. Her parents didn’t come. She worked to survive. Papá moved here when he was two. His mom, my Abuela, brought him over. When he met Mamá, he was instantly in love. They married young and worked hard to provide for my sisters and me.”
“That’s a beautiful love story. The sacrifices they made to ensure a good future for you guys is inspiring,” I say truthfully.She gets her strength from her parents. “How many sisters do you have?”
“I have an older sister, Carmen, and a younger sister, Valentina. Carmen is married to an amazing man, and they have a daughter. My parents and Abuela live with them in Worcester. I’m here, doing my thing. Val wanders around. She’s in Worcester too but moved out. She’s the wild one,” she smiles fondly. “What about you? Any siblings?”
“We’re the opposite. All boys, four of us. We all live in Boston. My eldest brother is Dominic, then Matthias, then me, then the baby is Sebastian. We all work for the Syndicate… Enterprise.” I catch myself just in time. “My parents also live in Boston. We’re close. We even have family dinner every Sunday. Oh, and there’s Margot. She’s Matthias’s fiancée. She’s like a sister to me.”
“That sounds lovely. I’m sure having them close by is nice. I miss my family sometimes, and without a car, I can’t see them as often as I’d like,” she sighs.
I vow to bring her to my family. They’ll love her. And they’ll be her family too soon enough.
Although, I’m going to have to find a way to convince this sweet, naïve girl that we’re all legal businessmen.
I open my mouth to answer but am cut off by a cough.
I turn and see the restaurant manager at our table.
“Excuse me, but I wanted to let you know, the restaurant is closing for the evening. Would you mind paying and letting us close, sir? I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” He gulps and trembles, not making eye contact.
I look up and see the rest of the wait staff off to the side, eyeing us cautiously. It’s obvious I intimidate them.
I also make note that the restaurant is empty of customers. I check my watch and see they closed twenty minutes ago.
“The apology is ours. We lost track of time.” I pull out a few hundreds from my wallet and leave them on the table. “Keep the tip as an apology.”
I pull out Cecilia’s chair and help her up. When I look down, I see her staring at the wad of cash on the table with her mouth agape, and I realize my mistake.
Most businessmen don’t carry hundreds around and tip more than two hundred percent.
Shit.
Well, nothing I can do about it now.
