Page 162 of Something Like Winter
“And the most affordable, making it a form of transit that truly belongs to the people.”
“Shoot me now,” Tim begged. “Put me out of my misery!”
Ben kept teasing him with all the facts he could still remember, but as the plane touched down, Tim began to worry. What if his grandmother couldn’t cope with seeing him and Ben together? Then again, they weren’t going to make out in front of her or anything, even though Tim would jump at the opportunity. They still hadn’t kissed since the night of the gallery opening. He respected that Ben wanted to take it slow, but waiting for him to make the first move was driving Tim crazy.
Stomachs burbling with nerves, they waited at the luggage carousel until their bags appeared. Tim took both of them, sending Ben a cocky wink that belied how uncertain he felt about the situation.
Nana, here is the love of my life. Love of my life, here is my grandma. Now duke it out!
Customs let them pass without much difficulty, the fogged glass doors opening automatically to generic airport corridors full of waiting people. He scanned the eager faces, aiming low since Nana was short. He spotted her hair first, which she wore high like a honey-colored helmet. Below this were huge amber sunglasses and a smile, her arms opening in invitation as she happily declared, “¡Mi nieto!”
Tim grinned, his worries temporarily forgotten as he set down the luggage and moved toward the woman who was stout, dark, and wrinkled—like a bag of brown sugar. As she took Tim in her arms, he remembered that she was just as sweet. She kissed both his cheeks. Holding his face in her hands, she examined him. “¡Tan hermoso!”
Feeling about eight years old, Tim gently moved her hands away and nodded to Ben. “Nana, éste es mi novio, Ben.” There. Just like in his fantasy, he said it. He used the word “boyfriend” instead of “love of my life,” but it was out there now. Tim held his breath.
Nana looked at Ben and threw her arms open wide, giving him the same treatment she’d given Tim, except instead of calling Ben handsome, she saidbonito.Beautiful. Tim agreed.
“It is very good to meet you, Ben,” Nana said with practiced care. Her accent was so thick she made his name sound like “bean.”
“It’s wonderful to meet you,” Ben replied.
“I drive you home,” Nana said. “Then I make you for lunch.”
Tim chuckled, imagining Ben tied up on the table with an apple in his mouth. “Your English is good,” he said, picking the bags up again. “¡Muy bueno!”
“We have Englishman next door,” Nana said, taking his arm on one side and Ben’s on the other as she led them away. “I make him practice with me one time a week. We have tea together. Nice old man. One time he want to kiss me.” She giggled like a little girl, looking back and forth between them as they headed to the parking lot. Nana chatted about her other neighbors, then family members Tim didn’t know. She continued talking as they piled into her old Cadillac.
Traffic in Mexico City was notorious, rush hour turning the highways into parking lots. Nana was obviously mindful of this, checking the clock on her dashboard repeatedly as they drove in a race against time. She could barely see over the steering wheel, navigating the traffic with blind instinct as she continued to update him on family gossip, cars occasionally careening out of the way to avoid being hit.
Tim kept glancing back at Ben in the backseat as she chattered. He was looking out the windows, no doubt wondering if coming here was such a great idea. Mexico City, like most places, wasn’t best seen by car. Of course Tim could already spot architecture that made his mouth water, but the beautiful side of the city would reveal itself as soon as they reached his grandmother’s neighborhood.
“How is my Ella?” Nana asked as they neared the south side of the city.
“Mom’s fine.”
Pencil-thin eyebrows just managed to rise above the sunglasses. “Fine? Nothing more?”
“As far as I know.”
Nana slipped back into Spanish. «She never has much to say about you, either. I keep telling her that a mother is a part of her son’s life, whether he likes it or not.»
«I’d love it,» Tim replied. «She’s busy with Dad, as always.»
«Is that why?»
Of course not, but Tim wasn’t about to explain the real reason to his grandmother. He felt lucky Nana didn’t seem to be concerned about his sexuality, but he didn’t want to hear her agreeing with his mother about who goes to Hell.
«I’ll try harder,» Tim said. «I saw them just the other day, but I didn’t stay long.»
Nana nodded as if satisfied and took the exit to Xochimilco, the neighborhood and popular tourist spot where she lived. On either side of the street were never-ending walls, obscuring most of the homes behind from view. The monotony of this wall was broken by windows and doors, gates and garages, flower boxes and ornaments.
Nana’s house was pure comfort. As they pulled up, Tim took the key from her, hopped out, and opened the gate. Beyond was just enough room for her to park in front of the orange two-story building. After guiding the car in, Tim went to open Ben’s door, smiling the whole time. Just being here felt good. He took Ben’s hand and helped him out, amused by how hard Ben was trying to appear comfortable when he clearly wasn’t. Then Tim went to the trunk for their luggage. They’d take a train to the hotel later instead of risking traffic again.
“Where is the fat one?” Nana cried as if they had forgotten something important.
“Chinchilla?” Tim asked, hefting a suitcase to the brick pavement.
Nana nodded, eyeing the suitcase as if she expected the dog to hop out at any moment.
