Houston, We Have a Problema Read online

  She tried to imagine that happening and was completely unable to. If Guillermo got a normal day job, he wouldn’t even be the same person.

  Jessica sighed. She didn’t know what she wanted him to do. She put the phone back down. Then she realized what she needed: an unbiased, expert opinion.

  She decided to visit Madame Hortensia the next day.

  18

  Jessica had just enough time after work to get a reading before her ALMA web site presentation. Luckily, most of the ALMA employees kept irregular hours, making it possible for her to present her concept in the evening and not have to take time off work.

  Jessica sped to the little purple house, then hurried up to its front door, wanting to fit as much fortune-telling as possible into her schedule.

  “Hola, m’ija. Back so soon?” said Madame Hortensia, setting down a plate of chicharrones and wiping her hands on her kitchen towel.

  “I need another reading, please. If you have time.”

  “We did the cards last week,” said Madame Hortensia. “Would you like to try a palm reading this time?”

  “Yes. Sure.” Jessica sat at the little table and took a deep breath, trying to clear her mind. She didn’t want the reading to be influenced by her mood. It was important that she find out exactly what was supposed to happen.

  “Okay.” Madame Hortensia took Jessica’s hand and rubbed the palm with her thumbs a few times, as if cleaning Ash Wednesday ashes off of it. “Let’s see . . .”

  She studied each line on Jessica’s hand, sometimes tracing them with her fingertip. “Remind me, m’ija, what we said last time.”

  Jessica sighed. “That I was going to meet a new man, and have a new opportunity in my career.”

  “And did you?”

  “Yes.”

  Madame Hortensia waited for her to go on.

  Jessica wondered how much detail she should go into. Maybe Madame Hortensia, being psychic, already knew what had happened. But she probably wanted to hear Jessica’s take on it anyway. “I met the rich, handsome guy and went out with him a couple of times. But now the poor, handsome guy is calling me, wanting to see me again. I don’t know what to do. Oh, and there was a new opportunity at my job. And a new job opportunity with another company, too.”

  The old woman studied her face for a while, then looked back down at her palm.

  “Okay. I see in your past a rocky road. You have been through many things, and had to make some tough decisions, no?”

  Jessica nodded. It was the truth.

  “And now, in the present, I see confusion. You have several choices in front of you, and you don’t know which one to take. There are two men. One of them has caused you some pain, no?”

  Jessica nodded.

  “But now,” Madame Hortensia went on, “with this other man entering your life, you are unsure of the future. You’re afraid to make the wrong choice, no?”

  Jessica nodded again. It was uncanny how you could see so much about a person’s life in the palm of a hand.

  “Well, you shouldn’t be afraid,” the fortune-teller said. “In the next few weeks, something will happen. You will receive a sign.”

  “What kind of sign?”

  “It could be anything. You’ll have to watch for it. When it happens, you’ll know which choice you have to make.”

  “Okay.” Jessica frowned a little. “A choice about what, though? Whether or not I’m supposed to keep going out with the old guy, or whether or not I’m supposed to move forward with the new guy, or what?”

  Madame Hortensia let go of her hand and leaned back. “What does he look like, this new man? You say he is handsome, like I predicted?”

  “Well, not supermodel handsome,” Jessica said. “But pretty cute, yeah. He’s tall, too.”

  “And he’s rich?” asked Madame Hortensia.

  “Not a millionaire or anything, but he’s definitely upper-middle-class. I’m pretty sure he’s the guy you predicted would show up,” said Jessica.

  “Okay.” Madame Hortensia nodded sagely, then examined Jessica’s palm again. “I see that you’re very conflicted, and a single sign might not be enough. There is unfinished business between you and the first man, and you are unwilling to let him go until it’s done. At the same time, you are interested in the new man, but something is holding you back, and you need more time before you can make him the priority in your life.”

  “Yes,” said Jessica. “That’s exactly how it is!” Now they were getting somewhere. “So . . . what do I do?”

  “Go ahead and date the new man,” said Madame Hortensia. “But don’t go too fast — not unless you see a sign that tells you to move forward. At the same time, try to wrap up loose ends with the first man. Unless, of course, a sign comes that tells you the two of you are meant to be together.”

  “Okay.” Jessica sighed. That was as clear-cut as she could expect to hear it, she supposed.

  “Good. Now, on to your career. Why don’t you just go ahead and tell me, m’ija, what form your job opportunities have taken? Your palm is a little unclear.” The old woman rubbed at it again.

  Jessica felt self-conscious and wished she had thought to wash her hands before the reading. “Well, there’s a job opening in my department. For a job that’s above mine, but it’s stuff that I already know how to do.” She decided not to get into all the details of marketing and renewing commercial insurance. She didn’t want to confuse Madame Hortensia or put her to sleep.

  “Is this new job something you want to do?”

  Jessica shrugged. “Well, it pays more. And they’d give me my own business cards. And I’d get to buy suits. But I’d have to travel, too. And it’d be kind of boring.”

  “Have you applied for this job already?”

  “Not formally. Not yet,” Jessica said. “But I will,” she added when the old woman looked up sharply. Sometimes the way Madame Hortensia stared at her during these readings made her feel uncomfortable, like a child stuttering through a spelling bee. Again, she studied Jessica’s palm for a verdict.

  “Okay. I’m seeing a misty path ahead of you. On the one hand, you have the opportunity for advancement, increased wealth, and respect. But this opportunity is shrouded in mystery. You aren’t sure that it’s really what you want. On the other hand, you have an opportunity to try something new. But you can’t see far up that path, either, and you worry that it may lead to financial instability. Correct?”

  “Yes,” Jessica said fervently. It was as though Madame Hortensia were seeing her whole life through her palm. “That’s exactly what’s going on. So what’s going to happen? What should I do?”

  “You watch for more signs,” said Madame Hortensia. “Go ahead and apply for the job, but don’t accept any offers until you know for sure that’s what you want to do. At the same time, keep working at the other opportunity, and if you get a sign that it’s going to work out for you, go ahead and switch jobs.”

  Jessica sighed. It sounded so easy and clear-cut when Madame Hortensia said it. But she knew that the minute she drove off alone, her life would turn fuzzy and confusing again. It always did.

  Madame Hortensia stood up, so Jessica did, too, and fished in her purse for a twenty. Already, she was dreading walking out the door. “Oh, but — Madame Hortensia, what do I do if the other man asks me out for this weekend, too?”

  “You mean the painter? The mexicano?”

  “Yes.”

  “Make sure you don’t put your date with him on the same night as your date with the bolillo.”

  “Okay.” Jessica felt dumb for having asked. “But . . . should I call him?”

  Madame Hortensia studied her critically and a little impatiently. “If you called him, what would you say?”

  Jessica thought this question over. “I don’t know,” she finally admitted.

  “Then don’t call him. Unless you get a sign saying you should.” Madame Hortensia walked to the door abruptly then, signaling that the reading was over.

 
Jessica followed, feeling slightly panicked now. “I’m just worried, though. I just don’t want to get a sign and then miss it.”

  “I understand. I might have something that can help you.” Madame Hortensia turned and disappeared through the beaded curtain for a while. She came back with a necklace. It was a fake gold chain with a medal that had a pyramid and an eye — not at all the sort of thing Jessica would wear on her own. She held it up for Jessica’s inspection.

  “What does it do?” Jessica asked dubiously.

  “It’s for luck, and to help you look out for your signs. So that’s eighteen dollars for your discounted reading, plus fourteen for the medal.”

  Jessica felt silly, but she searched for the extra bills and handed them over. She really did need all the help she could get. “Thank you, Madame Hortensia.”

  “Ándale. Hurry now, m’ija. My dinner is getting cold.”

  19

  Friday, at Taqueria Aztlán, the first thing Jessica did was show Xavier the mock-up of the web site she’d made for her ALMA presentation. “. . . and so, after I knocked off a few hundred dollars, that’s the figure I came up with. Which is still a good hourly wage for me. What do you think? Too much?”

  “Not in the real world, no. But you said they don’t have a lot of money.”

  “They don’t. But they’re not paying for this. They got a grant.” They’d skipped lunch for one Friday, Jessica thought, and now it felt as if she were trying to catch him up on two years’ worth of events.

  Xavier’s thoughts on the ALMA site were very encouraging. “Even if Web D Lux’s bid is half as much as yours, your site is going to be way better. You were an ALMA student, so you know their organization better than anyone. And your ideas kick ass. Web D Lux is just a cookie-cutter outfit, and you have real artistic talent. Seriously, Jess, I don’t know what you’re doing working in insurance.”

  Jessica sighed. “I told you. No one wants a web designer. Everybody wants a web designer, plus programmer, plus tech writer, all for the same salary I get paid as an administrative assistant.” She knew this because she checked the job sites religiously, then wished she had gone to technical school instead of college. “Hey, if I need some back-end work on this one, will you subcontract for me? I’ll pay you in beans and rice.”

  “Nah. These jalapeños are good enough.” He took hers from her plate.

  “So how’s life in Tech Support today?” Jessica asked as she spooned the sour cream from Xavier’s plate and applied it to her own quesadillas.

  “Crazy already. Linda Johnson deleted Special Accounts’ shared-drive folder and we had to do a system restore. Then she deleted it again.”

  Jessica grimaced in empathy. “How do you stand it?”

  “By getting out of the building for lunch.”

  “So what else is going on?”

  “Well, Cynthia called to request a new keyboard, because she kept breaking her fingernails in the old one.”

  “And you were the one to replace it for her?”

  “Yep.”

  “I’m telling you, Xavier, she wants you back.”

  “No, I don’t think so. I’m starting to think that she really does need that much help, whether it’s coming from her ex-boyfriend or not. I just didn’t notice how high-maintenance she was when we were dating, because I liked going up there all the time.”

  Jessica snorted. “Uh, hello — how could you not notice that she was high-maintenance? No offense, but she had you doing stuff for her all the time.”

  “No, she didn’t. What are you talking about?”

  “Come on. You had to drive her somewhere for lunch almost every single day. Then, every weekend you were taking her somewhere crazy and spending tons of money.”

  “I wasn’t spending tons of money. It wasn’t like she drank or ate a lot,” he reflected. “All we did was go to San Antonio once. And then to those cooking classes. And, really, mostly we just went to the zoo.”

  Jessica shook her head. She wasn’t going to say it, because Xavier was her friend, but Cynthia had had him totally whipped. “She didn’t deserve all that. I bet you wish now that you’d spent all that time doing something else.”

  “Why would I wish that? I had fun.”

  “Right. Then why’d y’all break up?”

  “I told you. We realized we didn’t have that much in common.”

  Jessica decided to drop it. She could feel herself getting unreasonably annoyed. For some reason, talking about Cynthia did that to her. Probably because she’d hated seeing Xavier being taken advantage of. She changed the subject. “What are you doing this weekend? Are you going to get fall-down, throw-up drunk tonight?”

  “I have to stay late tonight for McCormick’s server switch, remember?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Then tomorrow’s my cousin’s wedding.”

  “Oh yeah. The one who just had the baby, right?” Jessica tried to imagine him at a wedding, there with his glasses and his BlackBerry at the Knights of Columbus hall. “Are you going to dance?”

  “Of course. My mom will kill me if I don’t go around and ask all my aunts. I won’t do the macarena or the Cotton-Eyed Joe, though. That’s too much.”

  Jessica nodded. The Cotton-Eyed Joe was too much.

  “What about you?” he asked. “Did you and What’s-his-name kiss and make up?”

  She sighed and picked at her wilted lettuce. “Let’s not discuss him, okay?”

  “Aw, man. I’m sorry.”

  Xavier looked so upset on her behalf, she reached out and touched his arm in gratitude. “Don’t be. It’s no big deal. Besides, you’ll never guess what happened.”

  He pretended to think about it, then said, “You bought another purse and your closet exploded?”

  Jessica laughed. “No.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Okay. This is totally random, but I met some guy at my sister’s barbecue the weekend before last, and he asked me out.”

  Xavier did look a little surprised at that.

  “I know. Weird, huh?” Jessica made a comical face.

  He didn’t laugh. “What was weird about it?”

  “I don’t know. He’s some vice president at my brother-in-law’s work. When he first started talking to me, I thought he was a mailroom guy or something. Then, when he said he wanted to have coffee, I was completely shocked.”

  “Why? Of course he asked you out. You’re pretty.” He sounded a little exasperated. Jessica felt herself blush for some reason. She had always assumed Xavier thought of her as just average. Especially since he’d been so in love with Cynthia, the petite princess who made Jessica look like a football player in drag. She stirred some sweetener into her tea.

  “So what’d you tell him?” Xavier prompted.

  “Well, I went ahead and said yes.”

  “Hm.” He took a bite of his quesadilla. Jessica ate some of hers, too. For some reason, she’d expected him to be more interested in this new development in her life. He took a sip of tea, then finally asked, “So y’all are going out this weekend?”

  “Actually, we already went. That Wednesday, then again last Saturday.”

  Xavier’s iced tea went down the wrong way and he coughed a little. “Wow. That was fast.”

  “I know, right? But the first time was only coffee, and the second time he barely even tried to kiss me.” Jessica decided to take the opportunity to ask Xavier’s advice. “You’re a guy. What does that mean? Maybe he thinks I’m too fat. I told you he’s white, right?”

  “You’re not too fat,” Xavier said, still in the exasperated tone. “Did he ask you out again?”

  Jessica waited for the waitress to come by and refill their glasses before she answered. “Yes. To dinner and a club, tonight.”

  “He likes you, then.”

  Jessica couldn’t help questioning his decision. “You think so? I don’t know. I mean, he hasn’t even tried to make a move.” She hoped he’d go into more detail about how she looked to oth
er guys.

  “Jess, not all guys are like Guillermo, you know.” Immediately, Xavier looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry. That was . . . I’m sorry.”

  Jessica stirred her pico de gallo and didn’t say anything. She couldn’t — he was totally right. It was like Marisol had said — she’d become so used to Guillermo’s ways, she really didn’t know how to act with someone like Jonathan. Someone nice and genuinely interested in her, for more than just sex.

  Xavier ate a piece of jalapeño, then asked, “So you think you might get serious with this new guy?”

  “Maybe,” she said. “I’m not sure yet. I’m still kind of getting over the Guillermo thing. What do you think — should I just move on?”

  Jessica liked to get Xavier’s perspective on things. He was like a male Madame Hortensia, but not as vague. She trusted his opinion of the web sites she made. And a few months ago, his tactful remarks had totally saved her from going overboard with the fake-flower fashion trend. If anyone’s advice was worth taking, it was Xavier’s. She looked across the table at him and waited for his verdict.

  He shrugged. “He’s a nice guy, right?”

  “Yes. He’s really nice. He treats me like a princess. And he’s cute, too.”

  Xavier shrugged again. “Give him a chance, then, if you want.”

  She sighed. “Okay. You’re probably right. Like always.”

  “I’m not always right.” He smiled wryly. “Just most of the time.”

  Jessica leaned forward for more sweetener, and her pyramid-and-eye medal swung forward from the V neck of her sweater.

  “What’s that?” said Xavier, noticing it immediately.

  “It’s . . . um . . . a necklace. For luck.”

  “Oh.” He didn’t say anything else, but she could tell by his raised eyebrow that he was noticing how funky it looked.

  She realized then that it was impossible to feel lucky in cheap, ugly accessories. When they got back into his car, she took off the medal and dropped it into her purse.

  That evening, while getting ready for her third date with Jonathan, Jessica spent some time trying to decide what to wear. She didn’t want to dress up per se, since they were only going to dinner and a club. But she didn’t want to look out of place — or too cheap — at Ahi.