Free Bella by Lisa Samson Page B

is?”
    José looked at her. Why did women have to ask these kinds of questions? No, Nina wasn’t nearly as pretty as Helen. But her face was kind and open, and her dark eyes fl ashed when she was angry. When she smiled she revealed straight teeth, and there was a vulnerability to Nina that sweetened her face like powdered sugar sweetens fresh strawberries. Helen was a crème brûlée. Fancy and highly prized but no good on a hot summer’s day. He smiled at Nina.
    She pulled the scarf off her head. “Of course not. She’s prettier. So, someone you used to see. Boy, you are full of surprises.”

Eleven
    N ina walked up to an ATM, slid in her card, and punched in her pin. She pulled out her cell phone and jiggled it from side to side at José. “I can’t even keep a phone well fed. You know I had to get a cosigner for this thing?” She chose the Fast Cash twenty-dollar button. “That’s how screwed up my credit is. And I could be picking up that big tip right now. Rent’s due. I have to pay rent and bounce my last five hundred.” Not to mention my half of the clinic fee.
    The machine spat out the money; Nina grabbed it and stuffed it in her purse. “Hey, sorry I’ve been such a grump.”
    José looked at her quizzically. “What’s a grump?”
    Nina grabbed his arm. “It’s when someone isn’t being as nice as they should. Thanks for coming with me.”
    José just nodded and stood there, silent as usual.
    She hiked her purse up on her shoulder. “So where we gonna eat?”
    José said, “Let’s get a taxi.”
    â€œWhy don’t we eat around here?”
    â€œPatience, Nina. Let’s get a cab.”
    A cab? José? “But I thought you don’t ride in cabs.”
    More restaurant lore about José. They chalked it up to frugality, figuring he’d inherited some of that from Manny.
    â€œThat was yesterday.”
    â€œOkay. I’m tired anyway.”
    So they exchanged small talk while they waited for a vacant cab, Nina pulling information out of José who, she was sure, would have preferred to stand there in the continued silence. She tried to ask him questions with short answers.
    José’s favorite subject in school was math; Nina’s was history. José’s favorite color was blue; Nina’s was orange. José’s favorite ice cream was strawberry; Nina’s was cookies and cream. José didn’t watch television; Nina liked Gilligan’s Island . José had wanted to be a doctor when he was really little; Nina wanted to be a dancer. She couldn’t believe she blurted it out.
    â€œA dancer? Really, Nina? What kind of dancer?”
    He looked into her eyes, interested. Nina felt like some body was really seeing her for the first time in years. “A Broadway dancer. Tap, jazz, modern. You know, shows.”
    â€œNo ballet,
huh?”
    â€œI dunno. I guess for me, so much of dance is about the music. Classical is okay and I know there’s modern ballet, but I like rhythm, José. I like it when the notes force themselves down into your heart and into your stomach and you can’t help but respond with your body. I knew I wanted to dance as long as I could remember.”
    â€œSo how do we get you dancing again?”
    He looked so hopeful standing there, hands jammed deep in his pockets. Nina could see something different in José’s eyes. “You’re gonna help me decide about the pregnancy and get my career on track? Man, you’ve got your work cut out for you, don’t you?”
    A cab pulled up to the curb. José opened the door and helped her inside.
    â€œSo”—she slid over on the black vinyl seat—“we going to meet another mysterious person you used to see ?”
    He hesitated, then slid in next to her. “Frannie runs the Hacienda Sancho Panza.” He gave the address to the driver, then