Page 10 of Sundowners
“Thank you,” I said quietly. I wanted to tell this young man my story, wanted to tell him everything, wanted to tell him to be careful. “I’ll keep you in mind.”
The young man looked me up and down with a shy smile. I was tempted to push for more, but I had things to do, and getting involved with someone wasn’t one of those things.
First on my list was learning more about the bizarre attacks taking place in my town. If some kids wanted to pretend to be vampires, I’d certainly show them how it was really done, and they’d live to regret their foolish activities.
Then, I needed to press on in my quest of finding the usurpers. I vowed I would find them. And make them pay.
4
CHAPTER FOUR
Roman
Coming backto UC Santa Cruz as a doctoral candidate was surreal. It was sort of like going back to visit your elementary school when you were in high school and everything seems so small. I’d gone directly from my undergrad into the master’s program, then into the Ph.D. program and then spent the past several months in Spain, so even though it had only been a few months since I’d stepped foot on campus, everything felt different.
Muscle memory led me to the Psychology department and the desk of Maria Ferelli, the secretary to the department chair.
“Roman San Angelo, it’s wonderful to see you,” she said in her thick Italian accent. She stood and came around the desk to give me a hug. “I always knew that you would make it.”
“I’m glad one of us had faith,” I said with a laugh, appreciating the hug on this morning where I felt like I was on a tilted stage. It took all of my concentration to stand up straight and pretend like I had my shit together.
“Oh, you were a pesky thing as an undergrad, but I knew once you set your mind to becoming a professor one day that you would make it.”
It was true. I’d get so frustrated with my professors, always fighting with the old white men who thought they knew everything, and I’d often vent to Mrs. Ferelli. I had no one else. No one in my family had gone past a bachelor’s degree—Vanessa earned her undergrad degree after she’d had Emmanuel. Whenever I tried to talk to Reynaldo, he vacillated between giving me shit and being a little put out that his nephew was more educated than him, even though he had just as much intelligence.
“If it weren’t for you, I might not have, so thank you.”
She pinched my cheek, which set us back a few steps in our conversation, but that was fine with me. I’d allow it. She walked me to my office and introduced me to the other graduate student, Marvin Liu, who would be sharing space with me. We went over the schedule, my responsibilities, and I was given a manual to read and memorize. It was official. I was a university professor. A doctoral candidate. All but dissertation. Then, who knew? Maybe I would go the teaching route. I had a lot to do before that was finished.
I left the school in a bit of a daze, and I was dreading going home to a house without Lola, so I turned around and drove to Vanessa’s. Her car was gone, but the porch light was on and the garage door was closed, so I figured Bernadette was probably home.
“B? You home?”
I let myself in the front door and immediately kicked over a pile of Emmanuel’s shoes.
“That you, Roman? Watch out for the shoes.”
“Too late for that,” I muttered.
“Come taste this,” she said as I rounded the corner to the kitchen. Bernadette stood at the stove with a spoon of bulalo in her hand.
I leaned down and inhaled, instantly salivating at the scent of one of my favorite dishes Lola used to make for family dinners.
“I’m trying to get Frances’s recipe right. Vanessa and I want to take her food that she misses, but I’m a poor substitute for her cooking.”
I smiled at my tita’s wife. “It’s good. Real good.”
She sighed. “Good. I’ve been working on it all afternoon. Last time I made it, Emmanuel said it tasted like dishwater, the little shit.”
“He can’t help it, he’s eighteen.”
I grabbed a bowl and spoon and turned to ask her permission, but she gestured for me to hand it over and she gave me a heaping bowlful. I sat at the table with her and finally got to tell someone about my trip to Spain.
“I’m so excited you were able to go, Roman. What an amazing experience. I hope Emmanuel will get to travel. I’ve got to get him through his first year of college, though. He might not survive it.Wemight not survive it.”
“Survive what?” Emmanuel came sauntering in wearing sweaty workout clothes and carrying a water bottle.
“Your stench. Go shower before you eat,” Bernadette said, swatting his hand away from the ladle on the stove as he attempted to eat right out of the pot.
