Page 27 of Ms. V's Hot Girl Summer

“Nah, no no no. You’re getting the wrong vibe here. I…this is my son’s mentor and he so happened to be in town and is helping me, but no. No. No. I mean, no. LOL.” The butterflies went berserk in my belly at the mere suggestion of Orlando becoming more than a harmless crush.

“Damn, Ms. V, you didn’t need to say all those nos. I think the first nah was sufficient.” Orlando rubbed the back of his neck, hiding his gaze with his fitted.

“Oh, it’s okay, Orlando. If it’s not her, it will be someone soon. I can feel it,” Delilah said, and I started liking Delilah less and less. With all her commentary, it was making things awkward.

“Why don’t we go to have that coffee and chat it up with Mikey while you search? Thank you so much for your help.”

“Oh, yes, yes, let me get on that!” Delilah agreed, and we followed Mikey out of the shop and into the next-door establishment.

Just a few seconds outside in the heat and humidity and my back started perspiring. Thankfully the cool air in the coffee shop mixed with the delicious aroma helped calm my overactive nerves. The shop had murals of Ofele on each of its walls, with wooden lacquered tables and a counter that looked like it belonged in a Jamaican take-out restaurant but instead of curry goat, or oxtail, it boasted several savory and sweet pastries. I felt right at home.

“Are we good?” I asked Orlando, who’d gone stiff and quiet after that last exchange.

“Yeah, I’m straight. Listen, thanks for asking about Maria, it means a lot that you remembered.” He guided me through the busy coffee shop until we found a small table with some privacy.

“How could I forget? Besides, we had a deal, right?” I tried to decipher why he looked so hopeful and guarded simultaneously, but then a swift flash of disappointment popped up, and I was even more confused. Orlando pulled a chair for me and waited for me to sit down. He didn’t join until he made sure I was comfortable. The butterflies fluttered again, the damn pests.

“Yeah, we had a deal. It’s just…fuck it, it’s just people seldom remember things that are important to me. So that back there? It meant a lot,” he said.

“Oh… I…well, that’s not right. Not even your family?” I asked curiously.

“Nah, especially not them.” He shook his head taking off his fitted and gently putting it on the table. “It was my dad’s. Big Yankees fan.” He nodded at the fitted, noticing my interest.

“I’m a Yankees fan, true and true, so I know your dad was good people. I…the twins have shared that he died when you were much younger. I’m so sorry for your loss. Damn, I hate when people say that because it sounds so empty, doesn’t it?”

My stomach twisted in commiseration with Orlando as he struggled to say something I knew was meant to set me at ease. Without thinking, I pressed my hand on his, halting his words. “There is zero need to make me feel good; I was the one trying to give my condolences to you…okay? Just take it. You deserve for your father to be alive, and it’s unfair that that is not the case. And I know we can’t do anything about unfair shit, but, damn, it’s okay sometimes to at least acknowledge that some things we go through are not okay. And that trying to be strong through it doesn’t mean it does not hurt. It does not mean the pain and the sadness are less valid.”

Orlando’s eyes widened as he listened to me. They soon softened, and that hopeful stare returned.

I was scared of that hopeful stare.

“Thanks… I… I didn’t realize I usually do that. Rush to make people feel okay that my dad died. I appreciate you calling it out.” That smile of his. Mm-hmm. Eyes and smiles were my thing and this man delivered in both areas and then some.

This day of adventure, before I returned to reality, felt prescribed, but I didn’t want to investigate why. For now, I wanted to be present. I’d have plenty of time on the flight back, analyzing each second and each word, and the feelings. Unless I conked out again, which was the most likely scenario because I was no spring chicken.

“Hey, it’s okay to recognize people-pleasing tendencies.” I shrugged, trying to dissipate the air of intimacy that continued to coalesce around us. Mikey approached our table just in time, my savior in flannel and jeans.

“I have Jackie, our barista, preparing your drinks. So, who are you looking for?” Mikey took the third seat and sat down, a weary sigh speaking of early mornings and hard work.

“Her name is Maria…” I paused, realizing I went into this with a lot of enthusiasm but zero planning. Very unlike me. I stared at Orlando, and he took over.

“Maria Roberts,” Orlando said. “She came to Ofele about five years ago. Here’s a picture of her; not sure if she looks familiar to you?” Orlando’s tone couldn’t hide the hope he felt. Mikey studied the photo for a long while.

“I thought she was your family member?” Mikey asked me, his gentle, giant demeanor slowly shifting.

“Oh well, yes, but…”

“It’s okay, Trinidad. I appreciate it, but we can be transparent with Mikey. Listen, man…”

Orlando bared his entire story to Mikey. How Maria and he had been summer friends for several years. She’d been his solace and the only person with whom he shared how hard it was for him to be brother, father, and caretaker. Then, the last year she visited her grandma, they had a hot and heavy night. They had agreed to remain only friends after having sex, not finding any romantic chemistry between each other.

Maria ghosted Orlando after a while and didn’t tell him anything about her pregnancy. He shared old messages from social media that showed they had a good relationship, then the many times he tried to reach her to no response from her. Orlando continued to explain how Maria’s grandmother finally told him about his daughter, realizing it was unfair for him to be left in the dark. “…so when I found out… I just want to meet my daughter, man. I have two brothers and an ill mother back in NY, so… I’m not trying to make Maria’s life difficult by any means.”

Mikey absorbed all the information while I gaped at Orlando. I didn’t know about most of this. The way the twins spoke about Orlando; it was this happy-go-lucky man who, yes, lived with his brothers and mother, but never in a way that truly explained the responsibilities he had. He didn’t go into much detail, but it was all there in the pauses, in the way he maneuvered the conversation away from what clearly was a sore subject to him.

“Listen… I hear you, and as a man, I commiserate. But I gotta make sure I do right by Maria.”

“So you do know her?” I perked up.

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