boomed down the hall. Russell sat up. Carmela stopped bouncing. He stepped into the room, arms crossed over his chest, looking pissed.
“I let you use my car, tell you to pick me up, and this is how you thank me? Leaving me stuck out at work while you lie around here stinking up my house, snoring like a pig?”
Russell gasped. “Manny, dude, I set my alarm.” He grabbed his clock and shook it. Manny burst out laughing, and Carmela rolled her eyes.
“You can never pull anything off,” she said with a disappointed shake of her head.
He laughed and nodded in agreement. “You’re right. I always crack up.”
Carmela began bouncing again, acting goofier than before. Russell held his clock.
“Don’t hurt your clock,” she told him. “I came home and saw you and turned it off, and went to pick him up.” She dived off the bed toward Manny, shouting, “Catch me!”
He did, and carried her out of the room in his arms.
Russell rifled through his backpack, found the best clothes he had and threw them on the bed. They were pretty wrinkled, but they’d have to do. He stepped into the shower. A breeze came through the open window, carrying a hint of rain that blended sweetly with the water splashing on cool tiles. He wrapped himself in a fluffy towel and returned to the guest room. The bed had been made, his clothes had been ironed and laid out. He dressed, ran a comb through his mop of hair, and stepped out to join his friends.
4
“So, how are your folks?” Russell asked Carmela as they rode together to the Contreras’ family home.
“Oh, my mom’s beautiful as ever. She’s still at the alterations shop every morning, to make sure everything gets out, but she leaves around noon, instead of staying around all day like she used to. That’s good for her, I think. My dad’s still my dad. He’s got two new shops in Michigan City, so he’s there a lot. Mom keeps telling him to take it easy, let Luis take over, but he just works all the time still.”
“He’s a walking heart attack,” Manny commented.
She turned to him and said sharply, “Don’t say things like that.”
“It’s true,” he persisted. “The way he eats, always working—what did your mom say his cholesterol was? Something crazy, way up there. Blood as thick as pudding.”
She stiffened, stared straight ahead and stated, “We’re done talking about my father’s health now.”
Manny cast a glance over at Russell, who avoided his eyes. They came to a stop at a red light. A decidedly unstable-looking fellow loped into the crosswalk. He stretched his scrawny neck, thrust his head over the hood of the car and stared at the three occupants with a yellow-toothed snarl. He narrowed his eyes on Manny, who imitated his expression and leaned over the wheel, staring back. The guy crossed slowly to the curb, eyes fixed on Manny’s. He stood there and continued staring at them. Manny kept his eye on him.
“What’s that guy’s problem?” he muttered.
“I don’t know,” answered Carmela, “but let’s not make it ours.”
The light changed and they drove on.
“How’s Isabel?” Russell continued inquiring about her kin.
Manny snorted.
“What’s so funny?” Russell wanted to know.
“Just thinking about when you had a thing for Isabel,” Manny explained. “It’s funny.”
Carmela looked at her husband with something just shy of scorn, then turned to Russell and said brightly, “Isabel is fine, thank you. She’s teaching English at a school in Mexico, living with my Aunt Rosa. We write to each other every month or so. I’ll tell her you asked about her.”
Manny snorted again, and Russell leaned across Carmela to tell him, “I don’t know about having ‘a thing’ for Isabel, but I like her all right. All the Contreras women are charming.”
Carmela planted a kiss on Russell’s cheek as Manny laughed approvingly.
“And how’s Nestor?”
“Oh, Nestor, now let me tell that one,” Manny started. Carmela cast him a sideways glance as he launched into a story that he obviously relished.
“You know he married Lisa Strube, right? Just out of high school—bam—and her dad buys them a house, a real nice house. She was going to school, but Nestor just plopped his ass down. She started riding him, so he got this band together, right? Only they sucked and could never get any gigs, and it was just an excuse for him to party anyway. So she kicked him out, and he went bonkers. I mean, seriously bonkers. He spray painted crap on the house, smashed her car with a sledgehammer, ran around screaming, got picked up downtown butt naked one night. The works. Mom and Dad sent him away someplace downstate. He got back last year and he’s living with them, not doing much of anything that anyone can tell. He’s a lot mellower now, on his meds, but man, get him talking and he’s a pure, unadulterated freak.”
Carmela piped up. “What’s your problem with my family tonight?”
“I’m just saying the guy’s a freak. I like him, but you got to admit he’s out there.”
“He’s my brother. And your brother-in-law.”
“Oh, I know. I love your family. Really I do. They’re just funny to me is all.”
“Well, I’m glad we can amuse you,” she said coolly.
Manny shot another look at Russell, who returned it this time.
They parked next to a bunch of cars angled together on one side of the house.
“Is that new siding?” Russell asked.
“Nope,” Manny answered, setting the brake. “Painted a couple years ago, though.”
Her parents had a nice spread with their three-story house on a sizable piece of land, complete with a duck pond in the backyard. They were both first-generation Americans, born to Mexican families that had moved here in the 1940s. Alejandro, her father, had graduated from business school and started the dry cleaners that provided their family income. Her mother, Letitia, was an equal partner in the business, in charge of alterations and repairs. They had been married for thirty-five years, and had lived in this house for thirty.
Dad was at the barbecue on the patio. Four picnic tables were joined together and laden with dishes of food. A few guys tossed a Frisbee. A croquet match was underway in the backyard. Children gamboled about, playing games and chasing ducks.
“Who’s this?” Dad nodded as Russell approached. He was a short, stocky man with eyes that squinted above his broad cheeks. His short, thick hair was still mostly black, but flecked with gray.
“Russ Pinske,” Carmela said, giving her dad a quick peck on the cheek.
“Good to know you,” he said, holding his hand out to Russell.
“Russ
