My Mother's Boyfriend

Drunk Conversations

Maya

“Do you mind if we check on Peter?”

I’d been in a staring contest with my clasped hands on my knees in the backseat as we headed home- guess who was winning- when Alejandro dropped that on me.

First, I panic, feeling the perspiration on my pores instantly, despite the coldness from the air conditioning. How did he know of my crush on Peter? Did he catch me stripping him with my eyes? Oh God- And why on earth is he being nice about it, if he did? Oh, wait- is this the part where he is going to confront me in front of Peter? Is this the mafia’s way of handling things?

Then he adds, “He’s not doing too well,” and I calm down.

Shaking my head no, we remain silent after he instructs the driver on where to go. He is again on his phone. When he finally comes off minutes later, from my peripheral view, I see him lean back and his hand goes to his head.

The Notebook would be such a good movie to watch right now.

“I want to watch a movie,” I mutter, not thinking he heard me until he replies with, “No, you’re drunk. It’s best if we head home, after.”

I am not drunk. Intoxicated a bit yes, but not drunk. I have eaten food, and you cannot get drunk when you eat.

Not realising, I did it again until he once again replied. “Yes, you can, and you have only eaten a bit of rice-”

“I did not get to see the menu, did I?”

He goes quiet and I cannot help but think how attractive he is even when he broods. Then mumbles, “It was in Spanish.”

Oh. I would not know that because I did not even get to hold the thing, much less read its contents.

“Well, next time ask me, so I won’t be grossed out.” I hear how I sound; I think I really am high. I close my eyes and aim my gaze at the back of the passenger seat.

“Grossed out?” I hear the mocking in his tone, but I dare not address it. At least until he repeats it, indicating I should explain it, but my eyes are closed, and sleep is so near.

His phone rings and I am annoyed by it, no matter if it was on vibrate and not making an actual ringing sound. My eyes open, but my head remains bent. “You looked nice tonight.”

“Thank you, Maya, so did you. Dinner was enjoyable,” he adds the last part as an afterthought.

“Dinner was crap. I have a headache and I am hungry, and you told me I looked beautiful before, so no need to say it aga-”

“Shh, do not be loud,” he instructs, and my head rears up and turns sharply to him, next to me.

“Do not do this, do not do that-”

“Can you stop at the next street? There is a burger joint I believe,” he ignores me and speaks to the driver instead. “Order her a chicken burger- with or without chips,” he asks me, then decides, “order that as well.”

Burger sounds great, actually.

“Don’t be loud. Women should be graceful and elegant, not loud and brash. Be observant in a modest way, and not gawking like you do. It’s embarrassing.”

“I embarrass you?” The disbelief when I have been trying so hard to please him.

“Not me, yourself. Don’t ogle things. I say this to you all the time. I am aware that you have to change a lot of things about you, and you would prefer the modest lifestyle in which you are accustomed, Maya but you are not. You are in my world, and you need to adjust.”

“And to think, I wanted to kiss you.”

“You what?”

F*ck, I did not realise I had spoken out loud, again. “You are so annoying. Honestly. Handsome as the devil but I want to smack you all the time.”

He covers my hand with his larger one. It’s warm. “And I can still hear you.”

And I said that too out loud. I really am drunk, aren’t I?

“You wanted to kiss me? Elaborate on that because I think I did already.” Alejandro grips my hands slightly when he talks as if to encourage me.

Kissed me? That was not a kiss. Best friends kiss that way- not that I have but I have seen girl besties do it. I was never that close to anyone to actually say I had a ‘bestie’.

We never talk this way. It’s always him ignoring me and when we do interact, he acts as if I am a block he has to jump over. Just to get it over with because it was irritating. But why marry me, if I am that irritating?

It was he who forcibly married me, not the other way around. “Why did you marry me?”

“Can, we focus on one thing at a time?”

“Why are we visiting Peter, on Valentine’s night?” I blurt out then recall him saying Peter was not well. Were they lovers? “Is that why you wanted to marry me? Because of Peter? That would make sense. You guys are always together-”

He pulls his hand aways from me and grips my chin with one hand and his knuckles knocks against my forehead, softly. “Cut that stupid way of thinking. Maya, you are an adult now, try remembering this when silly thoughts like that enter your brain.

But no, he was with my mother- my eyes widen- bis*xual?

His first sentence shuts down that theory. “I am not gay, and Peter has a girlfriend. We are heading there to check if he is still there. Now tell me why you want me to-”

“Still there? Of course, he is there, and we are here.”

“What?” He is completely quiet.

“We’re here. I’m heading to make the order,” we both hear then and Alejandro leans forward after opening his wallet to, no doubt, hand the driver some cash, before leaning back to once again stare at me.

He is giving me an unkind stare. A bullying one that suggests that I am not smart, so I explain, “Peter is there, and we are here. Why is that so hard to comprehend? There is there and here is here. Here is not there and there is obviously not here. Duh.”

“You’re giving me a headache, Maya. Peter wanted to leave, and I refused him. I am just checking to see if he has disobeyed my order.” And to emphasise, he holds his head, frowning deeply.

Order. Leave. I swish this around my brain. “Peter wants to leave you?” What does that even mean? It dawns on me after a while. He wants out of the mafia. “As in the- er- crime- thing? Your group- er- thing?” The disbelief almost sobers me up.

“Yes, and it’s imperative that he stays. The mafia will be out for his bleed if he leaves.” He says it so casually but more unexpected was my response to that.

“My feet hurt,” I whine and bend clumsily to unbuckle one and unable to do so, I straighten back up.

“You seem unmoved by this news.”

“Why would I be?” I deadpan.

“It's Peter, don’t you have a sort of girlish crush on him?” he returns, and my eyes widen with this revelation.

“Well, I am not sure. I think so, but you would destroy me or him first, yes?” I fling carelessly out, forgetting who I am confiding in. I mean I know what he is capable off but yet it does not register. Nor how he knows about Peter when there could only be one way.

“Si, I would. Respect yourself then me. But why do you want me to kiss you, cariño, since you want him?”

We both are blank-faced as we stare at each other in the backseat. Both leaning onto the backrest, heads turned to the side but pressed onto the soft cushion.

“What does carino-”

“Sweetheart.” He said it in a low tone then pulled in his bottom lip. Not in a seductive sort of way, but my eyes are glued to the moistened red, now glistening from the streetlamp lips, his bottom row of teeth, slightly visible.

My mouth slackens with his answer, and I cannot help the drunken slur that follows. “Why are you so nice to me when you are an animal?”