Page 28 of A Dish Best Served Hot

If Saint could get the rest of his family on board, they had a chance to provide something great for these kids. All she had to do was focus on the possibilities and not on how weak in her stupid knees he made her. She could do that. If there was one thing Lola was good at, it was searching out her own weaknesses and destroying them.

“Fine,” Lola told him. “I’ll let you help find El Hogar a new home.”

7

Lola placed her king on top of the queen. “I win,” she said for the third time in a row.

Benny grunted. “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be back.”

Lola laughed at his disgruntled face. “You are such a sore loser,” she told him as she collected the cards on the table.

“I have arthritis in my hands.” He held them out for her as if she couldn’t see the gnarled knuckles on her own. His hands were courtesy of his many years as a mechanic at various factories in the area. “It’s not fair, because I can’t move as fast as you.” Except a few days ago she’d seen him fix an old-school radio with nothing but his hands and a screwdriver, so that didn’t exactly jibe.

She lined up all of the cards and then cut the deck. “Benny, you’re the one who suggested we play Speed. I was fine playing one of the other games.” She started to shuffle the cards. “While you’re in there try to come up with more reasons you keep losing,” she teased.

The bathroom door slammed shut and she could hear him grumbling.

Benny had always been like that. He hated when things didn’t go the way he wanted and was likely to complain, make excuses, pout, or point fingers. Her father was the same way, which made it very easy to see why the two were never really close. In fact, there were many years when they hadn’t talked at all.

Benny had moved back to Puerto Rico after his divorce and his only son—just seventeen at the time—had refused to go with him despite Benny being the only parent interested in fulfilling the role. Her father, already involved in the local gang by then, had decided to couch hop with his “brothers” until he turned eighteen and got his own place. From then on the communication between the two had been nil until Iván, her older brother, had been born. Something about being a father of a son had prompted her dad to reach out to Benny. They’d maintained only sporadic contact during Lola’s early childhood, until a year after Lola’s mom left.

She’d never known what exactly had happened, but one day, when Lola was about six or seven, Benny had shown up on their front porch with his bags in hand. Her dad hadn’t been thrilled—telling them to call him Benny because he didn’t deserve to be called abuelo. He’d lived with them for a bit before it became clear that the two men could not cohabitate. Benny got his own apartment a few blocks from their place and would take her and Iván there as much as they wanted. Iván was already firmly under their dad’s thumb and hadn’t gone often. Lola had gone as much as her father let her, which was a lot since he usually didn’t care about what she did or didn’t do so long as she wasn’t making him look bad.

It was during the time that she spent with Benny that she’d finally begun to see a light out of the tunnel. She’d seen that there was a world out there in which she didn’t have to play the perfect daughter. Benny had taught Lola all about her namesake, Lolita Lebrón, who by some was considered a terrorist and by others a hero. Lolita had been ready to be killed for her belief that Puerto Rico deserved to be free. When she’d led gun-brandishing members of her organization into the House of Representatives and shot at the ceiling while shouting, “Viva Puerto Rico libre,” she thought for sure she would be killed. She hadn’t been. She’d been arrested and sentenced to fifty-six years in prison. She hadn’t let that stop her. After serving twenty-five years, she was pardoned, but she continued to fight fiercely for the liberation of her homeland. Her presence in the movement continued all throughout her life and her impact continued after her death.

Benny’s teachings hadn’t stopped with Lolita or even with Puerto Rican independence. It made stops all throughout the US, Latin America, and other countries in the world. He’d taught Lola to question what others said and to dig for the truth. He’d made it clear that he expected her to fight for what was right for herself and for others. But he’d also made Lola believe that she was as fierce and as capable as her namesake. He’d given Lola a purpose when she’d felt like the only path available was to be her father’s pawn.

It made it all the more ironic that Benny was still a willing pawn in her father’s games, even after all these years. He answered her dad’s calls no matter what time they came in, he sent him money whenever he asked, he visited at least once a month even though he had no car to get there and back. It made Lola angry, but it also allowed him to also visit Iván—something she’d wanted to do for almost twenty years.

The landline started ringing as she finished setting up a new game and Lola jumped up to answer it. There was no name on the caller ID and Lola was excited. She hoped it was a call from her brother in prison. She was desperate to talk to Iván. “Hello,” she said as soon as the call connected.

She expected there to be an operator or at least one of those automated voices. What she was not expecting to hear was a loud throaty but garbled growl that sounded like a mix of animal sounds.

“What the fuck?” Lola said out loud.

The line went dead.

The bathroom door opened and Benny shuffled out.

“Benny, why did Chewbacca just call you on your house phone?”

“Again?” Benny let out a growl of his own, but his was decidedly human and full of annoyance. “I don’t know how he did it, but that is definitely Papo Vega’s fault.”

“He’s still pranking you? I’m going to go talk to Maria right now.”

“No!” Benny shouted.

“Why not?”

“Because I already got him back.”

“Benny.”

“What? He deserves it.”

“You’re going to get yourself kicked out,” Lola warned.

“I didn’t do anything that would hurt him. Besides, Papo Vega is a lot of things, but he’s no llorón. He won’t tell on me. He’ll just try to get me back.”

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