All the Waters of the Earth

Chapter 2: Tamales Take a Lot of Work

I was seriously up to my elbows in masa.

Rob sat on the floor of the living room, the annoying music of Minecraft playing, doing some sort of thing on the Xbox, I have no idea what. He once tried to explain the point of Minecraft and I never got it. But it seemed harmless and sort of creative, so I let him play. Twelve year old boys like video games, and I struggled with the tension of wanting to be a "cool mom" who let him do what he wanted, such as rot his brain in front of the television, versus wanting to be "mom the enforcer" who would tell him to ride his bike or read a book. As a single parent, I was both, and I couldn't decide which one was more important. Sometimes he needed a friend. Sometimes he needed a parent. Although I tried, it was impossible to do both well. Today was more "cool mom," since he was OD'ing on the Xbox. Still, I gave it my best and my son was sweet, polite, and fun.

Carlos Castro, my ex-boyfriend who got me pregnant at age seventeen, still lived in town and he saw Roberto every other weekend. The weekends I didn't have Rob, I took full advantage of, getting drinks with the girls and dancing.

Not that I didn't love my kid. Just every parent needs a break.

Carlos worked for his parents, who owned a chain of flooring shops; he was a manager. He made decent money and normally paid his child support. Our relationship wasn't so hot. We were always civil in front of Rob. Sometimes we were civil to each other when Rob wasn't around. But sometimes all hell broke loose when we were on our own.

I didn't really want to think about that right now. I was too busy making tamales.

My friends Georgie and Sara were in the kitchen, dealing with the corn husks, and my mother was finalizing the seasoned pork to go inside. Georgie was short, like me, but she let her hair frizz. She worked as a bookkeeper for an automotive parts dealer and told the best jokes. Sara was taller, more regal and elegant, and almost always wore white. She was quieter, but when she talked, it was important and made you laugh or made you think. And she always had the best clothes because she worked at Macy's and spent all of her money on the employee discount. And my mother was just like me, same height, same high maintenance, same looks. She was just twenty years older and a grocery store cashier.

Although we chatted while we worked, we all were intent on our tasks. Tamale making was serious business. And it meant that Christmas was coming.

My mother made tamales regularly, but for me, it was a once-a-year event, and I tried to make a ton to freeze for later. I always enlisted help because there were so many steps in the process. That said, it was fun. For example, even though it was barely ten o'clock, all of us were on our second margarita.

What can I say? It was a party. At least the type of party where you all had a job to do and needed to coordinate to make it all work well. So we drank, we cooked, we assembled, we chatted, we laughed, and we had a good morning.

It was Saturday, five days after I had met Jake, my neighbor. And I had spent the entire week trying to come up with ways to talk to him or run into him, and in so doing, I had deduced the following.

He was incredibly regimented. I heard his door open every morning at five-thirty. Then the door opened at six-fifteen. Then it opened again at seven, and never opened again until after seven or eight every night.

As far as I could tell, this meant that he went for a run every morning, first thing. When he left to go for a run, he wore a tight, white t-shirt and long, black athletic shorts, and he went out looking sleepy and came back bright-eyed and covered in sweat.

That only made him look better.

Then he went inside his duplex and I presume that he showered, ate breakfast, and went to work, working twelve hours a day and then coming back home. He always was clad in a pristine suit, even wearing the jacket, very formal, no shirtsleeves and tie for this guy. And his long hours? God, that type of schedule was so dreadfully boring.