Page 23 of A Dish Best Served Hot

For the first time since Lola walked in, Yara cracked a smile. She reached over and laid her hand on top of Lola’s. “There’s the Lola I remember from before she disappeared overnight.”

That comment, or some version of it, was getting old fast. “Yara, you know I couldn’t say goodbye before I left. I couldn’t let anyone know where I was going.”

Yara nodded. “I know.” She gave Lola’s hand a squeeze.

With a smile, Yara squeezed her hand again. “Well, all that matters is that you’re home now and I’m happy you’re here with us.”

Lola squeezed back. “Yes. I’m home and no one is closing the doors to El Hogar on my watch.” It was time Humboldt Park remembered exactly who Lola León was.

6

Saint sat in his truck, staring at the building in front of him and trying to convince himself that he was still a good person despite the sucky thing he was about to do. It had only been two weeks since his uncle had informed him of their new job and his shitty promotion to lead contractor, yet El Hogar was already empty and ready for their first walk through.

He gulped down the horrible taste in his mouth and closed his eyes. He tried to focus on anything other than what he was there for. Unfortunately, his mind decided to conjure up something even worse. It reminded him that the last time he’d been there, it had been to pick up Lola for a very special date. A date that had changed him completely.

Saint had never been so nervous in his life. He also had never told a girl he loved her, at least not a girl he wasn’t related to. He’d said it to his mom, sister, and abuelas many times, but this was a different kind of love. He looked over at Lola sitting beside him. She was staring out the bus window, so he couldn’t see much of her face, but he could tell she was smiling by the plump apple of her cheek. She’d obviously guessed where he was taking her. It was a bit alarming how well she knew him. The rest of the people in his life treated him like he was this deep mystery that no one understood, but Lola had seemed to know the real him from the moment Saint had pulled her into that empty classroom six months earlier.

The bus pulled into the Navy Pier Terminal and Lola turned to him, her deep brown eyes peeking out from her thick fringe of bangs. “I haven’t been to Navy Pier in years.”

Saint stood up and stepped into the aisle. “Why not?”

“Last time, my brother came with some of the guys and I begged him to let me go along.” She paused and looked at her feet. “We didn’t stay long though.”

“Why not?”

“They ran into some dudes they had beef with and started a fight. We got kicked out and had to go home.”

Saint did his best not to shake his head like he wanted to. Her home was only a few blocks away from his, but sometimes the things she said made him think she’d been raised in a war zone. While his home was loud and busy, it was always safe. His parents were honest, hardworking, law-abiding citizens who went to church every Sunday and taught their children to be good people. Everyone in his family was like that. It boggled his mind that seemingly no one in Lola’s family was, except for her. They did whatever they wanted without thinking about how it affected others, even their own family members. It left Lola mostly alone and fending for herself. Sure, she had her abuelo, but even he did the bare minimum, which left Lola to take care of herself.

“Bueno, we’re here now and we’re going to have more fun than you ever had before,” he promised.

Lola smiled at him and his world lit up. He loved making her smile. She didn’t do it enough.

“I’m holding you to that,” she said, picking up the pace until she was practically dragging him.

They decided to get food first, so they stopped at America’s Dog &Burger for hot dogs, fries, and two sodas. Lola badgered him until he agreed to try a Chicago-style hot dog. Growing up in a family who seldom ate anything but Puerto Rican food prepared at home, Saint was skeptical about hot dogs in general but especially hot dogs with yellow mustard, bright green relish, fresh chopped onions, juicy red tomato wedges, a kosher-style pickle spear, a couple of spicy sport peppers, and finally, a dash of celery salt all on a poppy seed bun.

Saint stared at the hot dog in his hand. “I should’ve gotten a cheeseburger,” he grumbled.

“Take a bite,” Lola said. “I know it sounds weird, but you’ll like it. I promise.”

Saint made a face. “Why does it need relishanda pickle? That seems like overkill.”

She rolled her eyes. “If you are going to be such a big baby about it then go get a burger.”

“I’ll do it,” he shot back. “Just give me a second.” He took a deep breath and blew it out. Then he shoved one end of the loaded hot dog in his mouth and bit off a piece that included a bit of everything.

“So? What do you think?”

Saint took his time chewing. He was sure that his sister would be able to perfectly describe the taste. She was an aspiring chef who spent her time watching cooking shows and using her small allowance to buy ingredients for the recipes they featured. But Saint wasn’t Kamilah, so he did his best to distinguish the different flavors before he swallowed. “It’s a hot dog with a bunch of tangy stuff on it.”

“Care to elaborate on that?”

He shrugged and took another bite. “I don’t know. It’s salty, but there is like a vinegar taste too. It has a bit of pica from the peppers. I can’t really taste the things separately.”

“Do you like it?”

Saint shrugged again. “Se deja comer.”

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