Carmela + Amos

Chapter 21 - Amos

              When Rodrigo arrived, he removed his dark shades and filled the living room with his squeaking leather jacket. Amos stood there holding onto a plate as Carmela kissed Rodrigo's cheeks, her cheerful greeting lost in the buzz swirling in his thoughts. Emmy abandoned the table to embrace her father, and suddenly Amos felt like an interloper at an intimate family dinner he didn't belong to.

"Dad, this is Amos." Emmy motioned toward the dining table.

"New boyfriend?" Rodrigo's eyes swept over him, scrutinizing.

"No," Carmela chuckled. "He's the new owner of the SG Gibson you sold twenty years ago. See?"

Lifting the guitar from the coffee table, she presented it to him, and his eyes shifted from Amos to the old treasure. He stroked the glossy surface with his leathery, sun-soaked hands before retracting them.

"Looks good."

"I'm just amazed it's held its shape all these years." Carmela shook her head.

"Well, if the previous owners are anything like me," Amos cleared his throat. "Then they must have treated it with great care."

"Yes." Rodrigo nodded and stepped back, his hands going into his pockets. "But why did you bring it here?" 

"How about we all sit for dinner, and then Amos can explain?" Carmela motioned toward the dining table. "Maybe the two of you can play something after we eat?"

"Sure. I'd love to jam with you," Amos offered, but Rodrigo shook his head and held up his hands.

"Arthritis is flaring up."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"No worries. But, let's eat. I'm starving."

"Yes!" Carmela clapped. "Let's eat before it gets late. You know I hate eating late."

"Gaining weight from eating too late is a lie," Rodrigo grunted as they followed Emmy to the dining table.

"It is not!" Carmela smacked his arm. "How do you think I've kept my figure all these years?" 

"From Pilates." Emmy rolled her eyes with a laugh and glanced at Amos. "Don't let her fool you. She gets up early every morning to swim at the recreation center and then does Pilates."

"You're giving away all my secrets!" 

"Don't worry, mom. Amos won't tell a soul. Right?'

"My lips are sealed." Amos pretended to zip them.

"Smart. Very smart." Rodrigo wagged his finger. "I swear, these women will tear you apart if you're not careful."

"What? We are angels!" Carmela motioned between her and Emmy.

"Emmy definitely, but you, on the other hand..." Rodrigo teetered his palm back and forth, followed by Carmela sticking out her tongue at him.

It was surreal watching them. Their relationship was so different from the one portrayed in the journal. Mutual respect and playfulness didn't exist in their youth but instead was forged from dull steel into a sharp and polished blade over the years.

But it wasn't only that. 

Sitting around the table with them and eating dinner felt natural as if Amos had known them for years. They chatted about music, their former bands, and what Amos did for a living. As Rodrigo sat across from him, he forgot about the horrible way he treated Carmela.

Instead, Amos saw a gaunt yet handsome man with salt and pepper hair tied into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. Despite being in his fifties, he still rocked tight black jeans, a leather jacket, and boots. He also drove a motorcycle, completing his older, rebellious style.