Page 5 of Portrait of A Lost Artist
“We are looking for a man in his twenties, who can have experience or not, to work as a dishwasher. If you’re interested, please call...”
“Jun!” I part my lips to call for my security guard, who appears quickly, peeping his head behind the two doors that lead to the kitchen. His salt and pepper hair remains slicked back, his tall height a big contrast to his oval-shaped face, wrinkled half-moon eyes, and pointy nose. “Could you please call this number? Not you, your wife. She knows Spanish. They’re looking for a dishwasher.”
“You’re planning on working?” Jun asks, lifting his eyebrows with an amused smile.
Hell, I haven’t worked on anything that doesn’t deal with being in front of a canvas painting, but... “I want to try new things. Just...get me that job, will you?”
“Have you ever washed dishes?” Jun continues prodding, and I have to frown at his words, only to earn more laughter. “Oh, if I didn’t have a daughter waiting for me at home, I’d go with you in a heartbeat. This feels like it could be the newest comedy of the summer.”
“Jun...stop teasing and get to work.”
“You’ll be told that in just a few days. How exciting.”
I can’t help but laugh softly once he leaves, looking down at the words written in Spanish and cursing mentally.
Yeah, I’ll have to learn the language if I want to stay there for more than a month.
?CHAPTER THREE
VERONICA
“Perfect don’t mean that it’s working...so, what can I do?” -Glimpse of Us by Joji.
IREAD SOMEWHERE, PERHAPSIN ONE OF THOSE NEW YORK BLOGS FROM RICH BRIDES-TO-BE AS THEY TELL THEIR STORIES OF ABSOLUTE PERFECTION, THAT A WOMAN KNOWS WHEN THEY ARE GOING TO GET PROPOSED TO.It’s in the atmosphere, the change or twist of words and actions of the man she loves. One day, they are acting normal and the other, a special or grand event comes and they are fidgety. Different from the laid-back man we all know and love.
My best friend, Alessia, pulls at the fabric of the tight baby blue dress that I had insisted on buying when I had found the thing in Lorenzo’s living room. The thing being a ring, clasped in a little star-dusted bag with a golden ribbon keeping it closed. The diamond wasn’t huge; it was just a silver band that read his initials. Lorenzo Pacheco in all its form and glory.
That happened over a week ago, and now, I am in front of my mirror, wishing that I hadn’t eaten empanadas like a madwoman for the past month instead of cooking breakfast like a normal adult in her twenty-seven years of living would. Damn me for loving cheese and grounded beef, but now that I see just how tightly the dress wraps around my lower stomach, do I really regret it.
“It’s happening. Oh God, it’s happening.” I mumble to myself, looking at the reflection in the mirror and cursing the day for going horribly wrong.
Alessia had done her best to tame my curly bangs, but we had persisted in tying it back in a messy bun to showcase the roundness of the hoops hanging from my ears; also because we couldn’t make the dark brown locks look great. Luckily, Alessia does her winged eyeliner on the car each time she picks me up to drive to our little office, somewhere in secluded Havana, so it wasn’t a challenge for her to make my face pop out.
We’re in my bedroom, hearing the clashing of voices coming from the living room as my brother and dad insist on their thoughts in the latest soccer match of Peru vs Argentina. When Alessia presses her pale hands to contrast against my golden skin, the long locks of her bleached blonde hair framing a slim face, like a model, with rounded and big brown eyes, a puffy, contoured nose and heart-shaped lips, I know she means business.
“Listen, babe,” And I do. Alessia was my friend from college, eight years ago when I got a scholarship in Texas, partaking in the software engineering road with me. When our paths almost diverted, right at the peak of graduation, I opted to move back to Havana. I had an online job—thanks to a company that had hired me in my last semester—and mom had gone through a heart attack and was just barely recovering from it by the time I came back. She, unable to unravel from me, moved out here with me. “I know that you and Lorenzo have a history, but I don’t want you getting disappointed if nothing, like absolutely nothing, happens today.”
