Page 12 of Wounded Dance
Blitz draws me closer to him. “She’s being nice. I was about to screw up everything and she saved me.”
Renata looks at him curiously, and is about to ask more when a timer goes off in another room. “That’s the casserole!” she says, hopping up. “Dinner will be ready soon.”
She’s going to leave us alone with Blitz’s father again. David already has his eyes back on the TV remote.
I make a move, jumping to my feet. “I’d like to help,” I say.
“Oh, I’m fine,” Renata says.
“I’d love to learn from you,” I say.
She hesitates. “Well, okay.”
“Good,” David says. “Let the women get the meal.” He clicks on the television.
I glance back at Blitz as his mother and I head down the hall. He’s shaking his head and gives me a wink.
Chapter 7
Renata’s kitchen is warm, organized, and bright, all cream with red accents. Piles of chopped tomatoes, yellow peppers, and jalapeños sit brightly on a counter.
“It smells wonderful in here,” I say.
Renata opens the oven and peers inside. “Do you cook much?”
“Yes,” I say. “But not Mexican food.” I glance over at the tortilla warmer and a pair of uncut jalapeños. “My dad is very much a meat and potatoes man.”
Renata laughs. “I’ll teach you to makecarne guisadaandpapas pablanos. That will make any man happy with his meat and potatoes.”
“I’d like that,” I say. “What was Blitz’s — Benjamin’s favorite food as a kid?”
“Macaroni and cheese!” Renata says. She slides on a pot holder and pulls the steaming casserole from the oven. “From the box! I swear every time he went to a friend’s house he came back with worse ideas for food.”
“But you made it for him?”
She sets the casserole on a wide iron trivet on the counter. “I did. He and his brother Dante wanted to eat like their friends’ families.” Renata waves her arms toward the window and the street out front. “It’s where we chose to live.”
“But it’s San Antonio,” I say. “Lots of Hispanic families live here.”
“Yes,” she says. “But the neighborhoods are all different. I probably would have chosen something else, but David insisted. Of course, all the things Benjamin was exposed to here were what led him to be a dancer. So, it was good in the end.”
Renata scoops up the piles of cut vegetables and peppers and drops them into a large wooden bowl. “Are you from San Antonio?”
“Houston, actually,” I say. “We moved here when I was fifteen.”
“How long ago was that?” She gives me a side eye as she mixes lettuce into the bowl and slowly adds dressing.
She’s trying to figure out my age. “Four years ago,” I say. “Coming up on five.”
She nods. “Have you met Dante yet?”
“No,” I say. I knew Blitz has a younger brother because he called him Christmas Day, but he hasn’t made any sort of appearance.
“Ah, soon I will get both my boys together. Dante is like Benjamin, eager to be out and live wild.” She smiles at me. “But maybe you tamed the beast.”
She passes me the bowl. “Take this to the dining table, if you don’t mind. Out that way.” She gestures to a second door.
I head there. I’m surprised to see Blitz and his father sitting already. David is in the process of opening several bottles of beer.
