The Best Bet by Hebby Roman Page B

Damian. At twenty-nine, we’re the second eldest of five children. I have another brother, Carlos, who’s a two years older. Then I have two sisters, a senior and a sophomore in high school, Rosa and Gina. Both my parents are living, and so are my grandparents. I’m lucky in that respect. I never realized how lucky until we spoke.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “I’ve always lived in San Antonio. I didn’t go away to college, not even for my doctorate, because there are plenty of good schools in my hometown. And I teach there, too.”
    Shrugging, he said, “What’s the old saying—absence makes the heart grow fonder? I’ve never had to test that theory, because my family has always been around, and I’m ashamed to say that I’ve taken them for granted. Now I know better. You’ve taught me not to take the people who love me for granted.”
    He tried to snag her gaze, wanting her to understand how she’d affected him and that he hadn’t just glossed over her pain. But her eyes didn’t quite meet his, sliding away, as if she didn’t want to acknowledge what he’d said and that she’d changed his perception. Instead, she popped half a tamale into her mouth.
    “Your turn,” he prompted.
    Holding up one hand in a silent request, she chewed and swallowed, following the food with a sip of beer.
    He nodded. “Okay, now it’s your turn to talk while I eat.”
    “I hate to tell you, but my life story doesn’t exactly make for scintillating conversation.” She took another swallow of beer and wiped her mouth with a napkin.
    “Here goes.” A tiny smile lifted the corners of her luscious mouth. “Now don’t go to sleep on me.”
    He laughed. “I’m all ears, please, continue.”
    She took a deep breath. “My father was born in Spain, but he wanted to come to the United States to study to be a doctor. He decided to take his undergraduate classes in Puerto Rico because strange as it may sound, the professors there lecture in Spanish but the textbooks are printed in English. And of course, the culture is thoroughly Latino, so even though he was proficient in English, he decided that kind of setting would make it easier for him to adjust  before he came to the States to start medical school.”
    “He’s a smart man.”
    Rafael had spent his post graduate life studying cultures and their impact on people. Knowing what he did, he recognized the foresight of her father’s decision to tackle American culture one piece at a time.
    “Yes, he’s very smart.” Her voice betrayed the faintest hint of sadness.
    Why would her father being smart make her sad?
    He wished he knew, but he doubted she would open herself enough to explain. She seemed ready to give him the outline of her background but not much more than that. He was learning that her comfort level demanded that she keep a certain emotional distance. It was something he needed to respect by going slowly, until he earned her trust.
    “My father met my mother in Puerto Rico. They were married and came to Los Angeles so he could attend medical school. My brother, who’s a few years older than me, was born in L.A.” She paused. “But my father didn’t become a doctor.” She stopped and looked down. Her shoulders were hunched and she bit her lip.
    Like her mother’s death, she seemed uncomfortable talking about her father’s failure. Granted, it wasn’t something she’d be likely to celebrate, but it had happened so long ago, and her father had recovered and became a hospitality executive. Why did his failure still bother her so much?
    He wanted to ask what had happened. Had her father, despite all his careful planning, flunked out? It wouldn’t be the first time someone didn’t make it. Medical school was very demanding and coming from a different background and native tongue had to have made it doubly difficult.
    But he didn’t ask. He’d forced the issue earlier and made her cry. He didn’t want to do that again. With Adriana, he