Olga Dies Dreaming(67)
“So, listen,” Lola began, not bothering with formalities, “Mabel got herself into a bit of a situation with the catering hall…” Her voice trailed off, but Olga already could tell where this is going.
“How much does she need?”
“If me, you, and your brother each kick in three, she should be good.”
“?Co?o! She’s short nine thousand? What hap—”
“Ay, ten, mija. Pero my brother JoJo, God bless, had some cash he was going to give her as a wedding gift. So, can you come with me later to take it?”
“Take what?”
“The cash! That’s the whole issue. The last payment is due in cash, and Julio was supposed to take care of it since he mainly gets paid in cash, pero”—and here her aunt dropped her voice—“I guess he got fired two months ago and never said anything. Mabel just found out last night. The venue called looking for their money and so she confronted him about it.”
Olga sighed. What a prize my cousin won, she thought to herself. She looked at her watch.
“I’ll go to the bank. Come get me when you get out of work.”
Olga knew that in New York, even a budget catering hall wedding like her cousin was having could set a couple back forty, fifty, sixty thousand dollars. Olga also knew, of course, that the venue couldn’t possibly be the last payment Mabel had to make. Hair and makeup, the DJ, and who knew who else was owed their final balance on the wedding day. To say nothing of tips, which they all expected (and deserved). She knew Mabel had paid for her honeymoon, plus first, last, and security on her new apartment in Bay Shore, plus all the deposits on all the vendors. And yes, while her cousin did have a decent job at Con Ed, she also had a spending problem and, Olga knew, wasted too much time at the slots when she’d go to the casinos to see freestyle shows. Which was, by matter of fact, where Mabel had met Julio in the first place. He was working as a bouncer for these nostalgia showcases in Atlantic City; one-hit wonders of the dance genre would perform for the people who loved them. Mabel was, by all accounts, an excellent dancer who commanded attention on the dance floor. So, when Julio came out to get Timmy T to cede the stage for Judy Torres, he spotted Mabel immediately. According to Mabel, they locked eyes from across the room and it was over. It was also over for Julio and that particular gig. Timmy T went into his third reprisal of “One More Try” and Judy, known to be a bit of a diva, complained to the promoter that he had eaten into her stage time. The job went poof, but a relationship blossomed.
He made Mabel very happy. Obnoxiously so, in fact. But Olga was hardly the only one who noticed that it was always Mabel who paid the bills for the romantic getaways that Julio planned. Her sister Isabel, Fat Tony, Prieto, Tía Lola, they all got in their little comments. It didn’t escape their attention either that his proposal, with a ring Olga was almost certain was a CZ, came right after Mabel’s promotion, which included better benefits and a pension plan. If Mabel noticed, she was too scared to give the thoughts any oxygen, but Olga knew her cousin was no dummy. She also knew that Mabel would rather die than let the rest of the family find out about this latest predicament, and that the money for the venue would not be enough to get her through the day she had planned for herself. Olga withdrew an additional $3,000, which she handed to her Tía Lola when she got in the car later that afternoon.
“Querida, you’re all sugar.”
Olga shrugged. “Nobody’s all anything, Tía.”
She felt her aunt’s eyes on her. She had been intrigued at the prospect of time with her tía, her mind brimming over with thoughts and questions about their family that she’d never considered raising before.
“Pero,” her aunt continued, “it’s nice, Olga, to be there for your family. We’re all each other has.”
Olga sensed an opening and decided to test the water.
“The way you were there for my parents?”
Her aunt put a hand over her heart and grimaced for a second.
“Well, yes, mija. It was hard what happened to Johnny. We were all happy to help. I’m sure things like a wedding make you miss him. I know I do.…”
No one in her family ever talked about her mother’s disappearance. (Abandonment, Matteo had called it, an expression that made Olga wince.) Yes, they would pray for her mother, occasionally tell stories about her, exclaim over some trait Olga or her brother had obviously inherited from her—ranging from noses to hand gestures to attitude problems—but the circumstances surrounding her leaving and the fallout of that act were never discussed. Noting this now vexed her and, in her irritation, she found the courage to continue.
“But, what about my mom? Papi was sick, but she just kind of left. Abuelita took up most of the work, but you got stuck holding the bag, too, Tía. Clothes, school trips, money for textbooks, art supplies.”
They were on the highway now and her aunt was silent for a second.
“Olga, listen,” she said gently. “When I was born, there were very few choices for women. You liked boys, you got married. Then you could leave the house. Then you had babies. It’s hard to understand, I think, because things have changed so fast. But, when I was younger, it wasn’t possible to live the life I needed to live and also be a mother. At least not with our family and our ways. Even your parents, as anti-establishment as they were, had a church wedding. So, while I knew I didn’t want to be a man’s wife, that didn’t mean I didn’t want to be a mother. When your Mami left, honestly, for me, I thought I hit the jackpot. I could cook for you and your brother, take you places, hug and kiss you when you needed it. Pero, also still get to be me. Live how I wanted to live. So, that’s all to say, I never feel I got stuck holding a bag, because I felt blessed by God to have a chance to be so needed.”