Lights, Camera, Quince! Read online

  Domingo rang the doorbell at twelve o’clock on the dot. Carmen looked through the peephole and nearly lost it. He was cuter than she’d remembered.

  She opened the door. “Hi.”

  Then Lindsay popped up out of nowhere. “Hi,” she said, parroting her big sister.

  Domingo smiled. “Well, hello to both of you.”

  Lindsay was quickly followed by the twins, who were learning Spanish. They stuck their little blond heads out from behind the door and said, “Hola.”

  “Hello, there, to you, too,” Domingo said good-naturedly.

  They stood there for a second until Domingo finally said, “Ummm, are you going to ask me in?”

  Carmen giggled nervously. “Oh, yeah, of course,” she said. “Come in.”

  Shooing the younger girls away she led him to the back of the house. Sophia and Christian were working in the backyard garden, as was their habit on Sunday mornings.

  “Hey, you guys,” Carmen said. “This is Domingo.”

  “Well, Domingo, it’s a pleasure,” Sophia said, taking off her gardening gloves to shake his hand. “I have to admit, I don’t really need gloves to tend to the basil and mint plants in our little herb garden. But I enjoy the accoutrements of gardening as much as I enjoy the work.”

  “Nice to meet you ma’am,” Domingo said, the picture of politeness.

  Christian wiped his hands on his jeans and then shook Domingo’s hand heartily. “You will have her home by three, won’t you?”

  Domingo looked confused. “Three in the morning?”

  Christian pretended to be annoyed. “Come on, what are you playing at? Three in the afternoon. We run a tight ship around here, you know.”

  Domingo looked seriously worried.

  Carmen laughed. “Ignore him, please.”

  “Please do,” Christian added. “I’m just taking the piss.”

  “Excuse me?” Domingo said.

  “Sorry, it’s confusing. Taking the piss is British for making fun of you,” Carmen explained.

  “Right.” Domingo nodded, a little uncertain.

  “Have a good time,” Sophia called out, returning to her gardening. She hit Christian on the shoulder with her gardening gloves. “Don’t worry about this one.”

  “No, seriously,” Christian said. “See you at six, Carmen?”

  “How about seven?” she replied.

  “Seven’s fine,” Christian said.

  When they finally escaped and walked outside, Carmen was in for a surprise. Sharon, Mary, and Arnie, the cameraman they’d been introduced to briefly at the station, were waiting for them. She had completely forgotten about the show!

  “We just need you to sign this,” Mary said, handing Domingo a piece of paper.

  “What’s this?” he asked, looking confused. “Are we being punked?”

  Carmen looked around, hoping the ground might open up and swallow her whole. She took a deep breath and said, “No, nothing like that. I’m being filmed for this quinceañera competition. They get to follow me everywhere.”

  “It’s part of the deal,” Sharon said, sunnily.

  “Okay,” Domingo said, as he signed his name. “I’ll agree. But with limits. You can film us going to the car and no further.”

  “Great,” Mary said, taking the release. “Now, we just need to mike you for sound.”

  “The car and no further,” Domingo repeated.

  “Yes, yes, we understand. Now, pretend like we’re not here,” Mary said.

  Carmen and Domingo began to walk past the canals to where his car was parked. Carmen saw him taking in the riverside neighborhood—the sky-high palm trees, the painted boats, the arch of the bridge, the soft breeze as the water in the canal whistled by. Walking next to him, she felt as if she were seeing it all with fresh eyes herself. It was a little odd to be followed by the camera crew, but maybe the longer they hung around, the easier it would be to ignore them.

  “So where did you two meet?” Sharon called out.

  Or maybe not, Carmen thought.

  “At Bongos Café,” Domingo replied over his shoulder.

  “And this is your first date?” Sharon asked.

  “Yep,” Carmen said.

  “And are you going to be Carmen’s date for her quince?” Sharon asked.

  “It’s hard to act like you’re not there if you keep talking,” Domingo said, trying to appear good-natured.

  “You’re absolutely right,” Sharon agreed.

  “Yep, fall back, team,” Mary said.

  The entire camera crew took a dozen steps back, and Carmen could feel her shoulders relaxing. It was nice to see Domingo stand up for her; it made her feel protected.

  “It’s so beautiful back here,” Domingo said, turning the topic away from show-inspired questions. “It’s like a secret tropical garden.”

  Carmen smiled. “Funny you should say that. My friend Alicia—you met her at Bongos—says the same thing. When we were kids, that was the name of our favorite book: The Secret Garden. I always thought the woman who’d written it could have lived here. Speaking of secrets, where are we going?”

  Now it was Domingo’s turn to smile. “You’ll see.”

  When they arrived at the car, Domingo held up a hand. “Good-bye, television people.”

  “Could you tell us where you’re going?” Mary asked.

  “And risk you horning in on our date? I don’t think so,” Domingo said, grinning.

  “Could we get a kiss for the camera?” Sharon asked in a playful tone.

  “The kiss comes after the date,” Domingo said.

  “Hasta luego,” Carmen said, waving.

  Making a quick getaway, they drove along Collins Avenue, the ocean glimmering at their right the entire way.

  “It’s nice to finally be alone with you,” Domingo said.

  “Ditto,” Carmen replied.

  They were quiet as they admired the scenery. Carmen never got tired of it. She couldn’t imagine a more beautiful place to live than Miami, except maybe for Hawaii. She’d seen pictures and it seemed a lot like Miami, except that in place of all the skyscrapers and city streets, there were mountains and volcanos and water in every direction.

  “So, what’s it like at Hialeah High?” Carmen asked when the silence had gone on long enough. He had mentioned, when he had called to confirm their plans, that that was where he went.

  Domingo shrugged. “It’s cool. It’s not as fancy as C. G. High, but we have a lot of fun.”

  “What’s your favorite subject?” Carmen asked.

  “English,” Domingo said. “I know it sounds nerdy, but I love to read. I took this class in Latin American fiction last year and it just about blew my mind.”

  Carmen smiled. “Nerdy is good. Trust me. I’m nerdy too—especially with things like music. Speaking of which, what are we listening to?”

  “Wilco,” Domingo said. “Do you like it?”

  “I like anything new,” Carmen said. “So . . . where are we going?”

  “Paciencia, niña,” Domingo said. “We’re almost there.”

  Carmen laughed. “Nice move, breaking out the Spanish to avoid answering. Are you fluent?”

  Domingo shook his head. “Nah. I speak kindergarten Spanish.”

  “What’s that?” Carmen asked.

  “You know, the stuff your mom tells you again and again when you’re five. ‘Slow down.’ ‘Close your mouth.’ ‘Go to sleep.’ ‘Come, eat.’ ‘Don’t eat so fast.’”

  Carmen nodded.

  “Are you fluent?” Domingo asked.

  “Nah,” Carmen said. “I guess I speak kindergarten Spanish, too. Plus a little fashion Spanish, because I design and make clothes. Oh, and, I speak a little Ladino.”

  “What’s that?” Domingo asked.

  “It’s this Sephardic-Latino tradition. My dad’s family is from Argentina, and every spring, my grandmother comes up from Buenos Aires to cook us Passover seder and we sing these Coplas de Purim en español.”

 
“Well, vaya, sing me one.”

  Carmen shook her head. “No way! I can’t embarrass myself this early on our first date!”

  “Well, you’re lucky, ’cause I’m letting you off the hook—for now,” Domingo said. “We’re here.”

  Carmen shifted her gaze forward and saw they had pulled into the driveway of the Loews. It was one of the swanky hotels right on Miami Beach.

  Carmen could feel her chest tightening. Wait a second. Hotels had rooms, and rooms had beds. What did Domingo have in mind? This was a first date, after all!

  She must have looked as terrified as she felt, because Domingo spoke up. “I have a friend who works at the pool. I thought we’d hang out there.”

  Carmen was so relieved she almost hugged him.

  Domingo took a large picnic basket out of the trunk of his car.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  He winked at her. “Lunch.”

  They went through the opulent lobby and out to the pool. Quickly they settled in at a poolside cabana, which normally cost $500 a day, though Domingo’s friend, Santiago, was letting them have it for free. The cabana was yellow and white and was as big as Carmen’s living room. It had a small bistro table with two chairs, an upholstered chaise longue, a TV, and a fridge stocked with bottled water.

  Domingo stepped out while Carmen changed into her bathing suit, and when he returned he laid out lunch.

  “I tried to remember all your favorites,” he said. “But I was only your waiter once.”

  Carmen blushed as he began pulling containers out of the basket.

  “Stuffed green plantain chips with shrimp creole?”

  “Yum,” Carmen said.

  “Fried plantains with garlic sauce?”

  “Double yum.”

  “Papas rellenas?”

  “Uh, I think that’s a—yum.”

  “And virgin mojitos in a not-so-attractive thermos,” Domingo finished.

  “It’s perfect. It’s more than perfect. This may just be the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” Carmen said.

  Without stopping to think about what she was doing, she leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Now that’s over with and we can relax, instead of there being all that tension later when you take me home.”

  “That’s a very interesting theory,” Domingo said, smiling. “I like it.”

  “Good,” Carmen said. “Because I like you. And I’d like to kiss you a lot.”

  “I guess it’s a good thing I sent those television people away,” Domingo said.

  Carmen laughed—and kissed him again.

  • • •

  The minute Carmen got home, the first thing she did was call Alicia to tell her all about the date.

  Alicia sighed. “Will you still be my best friend if I tell you that I’m just a little bit jealous of you right now?”

  Carmen laughed giddily. “Claro.”

  “What if I told you I was really, really jealous of you right now?”

  “But why?” Carmen said. “You’ve got Gaz.”

  “Gaz doesn’t make me picnics or take me to a poolside cabana,” Alicia said.

  “Maybe he would if you’d admit he was really your boyfriend,” Carmen advised, her voice softening.

  Alicia took a deep breath. “I have to ask,” she said, “did he kiss you good-bye?”

  Carmen nodded, as though Alicia could see her over the phone. “Yes, he did.”

  Alicia inhaled sharply. “Okay, now I’m just being nosy, but I have to know. We’re talking a full kiss, with tongue, right?”

  “Uh, yeah. That’s what girls and boys who aren’t in ‘flirtationships’ do, Lici. You should try it. It’s nice.”

  Alicia was quiet for a little bit, and Carmen began to worry that perhaps she’d offended her friend.

  “Are you there, Lici?” Carmen said. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

  “I’m here,” Alicia said. “It’s just this whole thing with Gaz and me. I’ve never had a real boyfriend before. I don’t want to mess things up. I can’t have my first relationship with someone who’s also one of my best friends.”

  “Why not?” Carmen asked. “Isn’t the friend bit the most important part of ‘boyfriend’?”

  After the phone call with Alicia, eating dinner with the family, and doing the dishes, Carmen finally walked into her bedroom to find her sister engaged in the nightly ritual of moisturizing.

  “Hey, Una,” she said. “Thanks for hooking me up today.”

  “Did you have a nice time?” her sister asked, staring straight ahead into the mirror.

  “I did.”

  “Mom and Christian seemed to really like him,” Una said. “Mom said he’ll make the most handsome chambelán Miami has ever seen.”

  Carmen laughed. “That’s funny. That’s exactly what Alicia said.”

  “Even a blind person could see that he’s your bashert,” Una said, smiling.

  “What’s that?” Carmen said. “I haven’t started Hebrew lessons yet you know.”

  “Your bashert is your destiny in love. It means he’s the one.”

  Carmen felt a funny stirring inside, like the faintest of flutters. Una’s words made sense. Even though Carmen had been out with Domingo only once and had kissed him only a few times that day, there was a sense of peace about it all. It was as though, with every kiss, she had felt more certain that something amazing was happening. Her sister might just be right. Maybe Domingo was the one.

  EARLY THE next morning, Alicia knocked on the door of Carmen’s house. “Come on,” she said when her friend opened the door. “Let’s go for a little boat ride.”

  Carmen groaned. “It’s so early. I’m still in my pajamas.”

  Alicia, who was dressed in a Topshop bubble dress with gray and white ticking, didn’t care. “No biggie, you’re wearing a cami and sweatpants. No one will know you slept in that!”

  Carmen put her hand up to her mouth. “I haven’t brushed my teeth.”

  Alicia paused, then said, “Mejores amigas o no, it might be a good idea if you did that.”

  A few minutes later, Carmen emerged—teeth brushed, hair pulled back into a ponytail, and a dab of lip gloss on her lips.

  “Makeup, niña?” Alicia said.

  “Don’t hate!” Carmen teased. “You’re showered—and fully dressed.”

  They made their way to the boat and quickly got in. Alicia was apparently making up for all the time she had let pass without being on the water. Carmen began to row them toward the bridge.

  “What’s so urgent that it couldn’t wait?” Carmen said, watching the parade of ducks take their morning exercise.

  “First, I got you breakfast,” Alicia said, holding up a bag Carmen hadn’t noticed in her sleepy state. “Empanadas and iced Cuban coffee.”

  “Gracias. I’m starving!” Carmen put down the oars to eat. “So, tell me. What’s up?” she asked after she swallowed a big bite of the tasty treat.

  Alicia reached into her bag. “I’ve solved all of your problems. I spent all day yesterday at the Jewish Cultural Center in Aventura, and look what I found.”

  She took out a book and handed it to Carmen.

  Carmen looked at it. “Tropical Synagogue?” she read, sounding confused.

  “Tropical Synagogue,” Alicia repeated. “It’s a collection of writing by Jewish Latino writers.”

  “Great,” Carmen said. “But how does that solve my problems?”

  Alicia smiled. “That’s why I wanted to come out on the boat. Turn it back around so it faces your house.”

  Carmen maneuvered the oars so that the little boat turned around.

  “Okay, there it is,” she said, putting down the oars. “My house.” From where they sat it looked small and unimpressive.

  Alicia smiled mischievously. “Maybe you should take some Bible study along with those Hebrew classes you’re starting, ye of little faith. This is going to rock.”

  Carmen folded her arms, waiting.
/>   “All right, all right. I’ll tell you,” Alicia said, laughing. “You know how every fall, there are the big fashion shows in the tents in New York?”

  Carmen sighed. “Of course. Style.com was the first iPhone app I ever purchased.”

  Alicia nodded. “Picture a Fashion Week tent behind your house, facing the water.”

  “But I’ve already told you,” Carmen protested, “I don’t want to do a fashion-themed quince. I want to honor my Jewish heritage.”

  Alicia pulled out her iPhone. “But the tent is not just about fashion; it’s a powerful symbol in Jewish literature. Check this out: I did a lot of research online, and it all mentions that the tent is a symbol found in rituals throughout all periods of Jewish history. For example, the Tent of the Tabernacle was Judaism’s sacred first tent. And Jewish couples get married under a minitent open on all sides, called a chuppah.”

  Carmen’s eyes widened. “Abuela Ruben would love that.”

  Alicia went on. “So your theme is Tropical Synagogue. The tent symbolizes both New York Fashion Week and a more serious form of worship and Jewish tradition. We make a runway that comes out from your back door and goes down to the water. You design some clothes. We do a fashion show, and then the runway converts into the dance floor. We line the outer perimeter of the tent with potted palm trees. That gardening shop still owes us a favor for the big account we brought them, and we fixed it when they messed up and brought calla lilies instead of Casablanca lilies. They can lend us a couple dozen palm trees. Can you picture it, C.? A big white tent, the green of the palm trees, the canal glistening in the background . . .”

  “No church?” Carmen said.

  Alicia shook her head. “Not for this quince. The tent is a portable place of worship. The symbolic, spiritual home.”

  Carmen flipped through the book, warming up to the idea. “What if we had Jamie graffiti the inside of the tent with excerpts from all these Jewish Latino writers?”

  Alicia nodded. “That would be hot.”

  Carmen’s smile faltered. Something had just occurred to her. “Do you really think I could mount a whole fashion show? I’ve got, like, a month to design and make all those outfits. Even a capsule collection with twelve looks would be nearly impossible to do.”

  “What would Heidi Klum and Tim Gunn say if you were on Project Runway?” Alicia asked.