Chapter 9

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Writer's note: I hope you guys like these songs. I mean I like them so I hope I'm not the only one. Also remember to vote, comments are cool, too. :)

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I woke up cold. Throughout the night it had been oddly nice to have a warm body plastered against mine and even nicer that it was Mike's. I didn't know how I'd go back to sleeping alone after this. I couldn't remember when he left, he had murmured something about starting work early, leaving something like a kiss on my cheek and then leaving.

When I really woke up, I checked my phone to realize it was 8am. Shit. I started at the tattoo shop at ten, and I didn't know how to get home from here.

I looked inside of the closet in the room seeing more sweats that seemed clean. I changed into joggers and a hoodie, folding the clothes I wore to sleep and leaving them on edge of the bed. There was a bathroom attached to the bedroom and I saw a toothbrush in a unopened box. I read through a text Mike sent me while I brushed my teeth. He said how he had to go into work early, and for me to make myself at home. He'd even said he'd call an uber for me when I was ready to go back to my apartment. Yikes. I didn't want that.

I crept down the stairs and into the kitchen seeing Luciana at the kitchen island in a crisp pant suit. She saw me making my way down the staircase and smiled. I felt awkward, like I'd over stayed my welcome.

"Good morning, Derrick. I can drop you off at your place if you want. I pass by it on the way to the hospital." Luciana said quickly, getting up and turning on the kettle. Her hair was in a pulled back bun today, a few tendrils artfully draping her face, "Would you like some tea? You like Earl Grey, I'll get it out for you." she began to murmur in Spanish and I wondered how any one person could possess that much energy. I saw where Mike got it from.

"It's alright Lucy, it's okay." I wanted her to stop accommodating me but I didn't know where to start, or how to say it.

Luciana twisted her lips to the side, "Okay, we will compromise and you will drink the Earl grey." I couldn't help but laugh.

I packed up my things and Luciana poured my tea into a thermos and she yelled to her parents that she was leaving. She went through the process of picking up her keys and locking the door.

She had a deep maroon jeep wrangler. Luciana used a tiny step stool just to get into the car, heels clacking as she got inside.  Once we got settled in the car she had explained that her parents spent half the year in Cuba and alternated between living here and there. Her mother liked gardening as much as Mike did so she stayed in the summer and spring months. It surprised me then, learning that Mike liked to garden. The car ride was silent for a bit.

"Derrick." she said, turning to me. "You really don't remember?"

My shoulders slumped, "No. Trust me when I say I want to. Even this whole thing with Mike..."

"Miguel is a good man." Luciana began, "He will make a good husband one day."

"Okay..." I said, wondering if it would be rude to turn on the radio.

"So, if you're on the market..."  she suggested.

I snorted, "Me and Mike are-" I slurped my tea, damn it was hot,  "It's complicated."

"It's not so complicated." Luciana assured me, "The hard part will be learning Spanish."

I looked at her, "Learning Spanish?"

"Si. That Cheryl woman. She's muy hermosa, really stunning. She could be Miss Cuba." Luciana was driving with one hand, waving a free hand about for emphasis. "But- she doesn't connect with the family. She came over for dinner last year and that blanquita didn't even offer to help with the dishes. And she brought store bought food into my house as her contribution for the family dinner." Luciana was shaking her head in frustration, "Like we're dogs, eating something made in some store. I was so insulted. We were in the kitchen for hours and this woman thinks she can walk into my house with a fruit platter from Walmart and say 'Hola, cómo estás' like some gringuita. Not in my house, Derrick. Not in my house." she sighed deeply, "And I don't care who Miguel likes, really, I don't. But someone who brings a fruit platter into my house? Ay dios mio."

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