Washington Bridge
Title: Washington Bridge
Fandom: In the Heights
Written: January, 2009
Rating: PG
Words: 3100
Summary: Benny walks back to the Heights one evening, thinking about his life. He comes across Kevin and Camila, the latter of whom has a nice little chat with him.
------
Benny stared at the grimy glass he held in his hand. It rested on the funny-looking coaster the bartender had given him, preventing it from leaving a ring on the polished wood surface of the bar. Little lights glinted in the glass, partially obscured where his hand encircled it. The ice cubes clinked together gently as he raised the glass to his lips.
The slightly sour liquid slid easily down his throat. Benny held the glass by his chest, looking into it again. He noticed tiny brown particles swimming in the amber liquid and grimaced. Losing his taste for the drink, he replaced it on the coaster, pushing it a couple inches away. He looked over his shoulder at the bar, trying to pick out familiar faces and finding it near impossible in the dim light.
His eyes followed a man with his necktie hanging loose around his neck, several buttons on his shirt undone, as he walked over to the old fashioned jukebox tucked away in the corner. The man slid a coin into it and chose an old rock song Benny vaguely remembered. He tried to recall the chorus as the man walked back to his seat, gait swaggering slightly in time with the song. Benny raised an eyebrow, thinking that the man looked rather silly.
He turned back to the bar, smiling into his discarded glass as he thought about how different things would have been had he been up in Washington Heights with his friends. Someone would be playing salsa or merengue music in their apartment, turning the speakers toward their open window so the people down on the street could hear. At dusk, the club music would take over and what felt like the entire community would go out dancing.
Even in the Hispanic-dominated population of the Heights, Benny always felt as if he was a part of the community. But here, in this tiny corner-street bar that he happened upon, nobody spoke to the people sitting around them. Everyone was engaged in their own business, some smoking cigarettes in a corner and some reading tatty paperback books while sipping their multi-colored drinks.
Benny heaved a sigh, his entire body slumping as he did so. He pulled a couple crumpled bills from his back pocket and left them on the counter for the bartender. Looking around the bar once more, he made his way towards the door.
"Hey hot stuff."
A woman he had never seen before in his life ran her fingers along his arm, smiling sideways at him. Benny paused, sure that she had mistaken him for someone else. His eyebrows narrowed into a confused frown, and his mouth opened into a small 'o' of surprise when the woman grabbed his tie and tried to pull him back into the bar.
"Do I know you?" he asked, gently prying the woman's fingers from his tie and flattening it against his chest.
"Not yet," she told him, winking one heavily eyeshadowed eyelid. Benny raised an eyebrow again, shaking his head slightly and his hand falling on the doorknob. He twisted it violently and pushed the door open with much more force than was needed, not saying anything to the woman as a goodbye.
Benny ran a hand over his tie again, smoothing the impressions the woman's fingers had left. He cleared his throat and began walking uptown, wondering why he had wandered so far from home in the first place. He walked quickly and with purpose, his feet hitting the cracked pavement harder than they had on the trip down.
There had been a time when Benny would have been flattered to have a woman flirt with him at random, to know that she had been drawn to him by his looks. He would have stayed back in that bar for who knows how long, doing more touching than talking and losing track of the hours.
That Benny had up and left, just like Nina had.
A sudden breeze made him shiver slightly, and he rolled his sleeves down. He took care to button the cuffs. Tugging at his necktie slightly, Benny adjusted his collar, pulling it a bit higher.
His eyes started wandering over the street, noticing the plethora of taxis honking at each other to move. It made him laugh, remembering that he had once been one of those yellow cabs that nobody could tell apart, just a tiny yellow dot on the island of Manhattan. He looked inside the parked cabs, trying to see if he recognized any drivers. He knew Donny had gotten another job as a cab driver, and that man did have an affinity for bright blue hats.
The harassed faces all peered back at him, as if daring him to ask for a ride. Shrugging, Benny gave this up as a bad job. He focused on the pavement in front of him instead. He kicked a discarded soda can into an alley to the left, which satisfied him for some reason. Sticking his hands in his pockets and his thumbs in his belt loops, Benny started humming to himself, still trying to remember the chorus to that old rock song.
Pete would know, he suddenly realized, chuckling at his own stupidity. The kid only walks around all day with that humungous boom box on his shoulder, blasting anything and everything except the typical Latino choices that already came from the windows. He allowed himself another laugh at the memory of Daniella chucking a hair dryer at Pete one day because she was fed up with him 'ruining the vibe.'
Making a mental note to ask Pete about the song later, Benny crossed the street, still humming. He would forget the melody as soon as he entered the Heights, he knew, if he didn't ingrain it in his memory now. It wouldn't really bother him if he didn't find out what the song was, but at the moment he was curious.
It was with a slight clench in his stomach that Benny noticed the deterioration of the buildings as he kept walking. The farther north he walked, the more neglected the buildings looked. Windowsills hung precariously from the walls, as if daring a wind to knock them off. Chips of paint littered the sidewalk. Door handles were rusting and made the area prone to tetanus problems.
But even with all these imperfections, the Heights was still home. Benny could see the Washington Bridge up ahead, its lights glinting in the fading sunlight. More than anything, that was the symbol of home. It connected their little world to the rest of the country, reminding them daily that there was more out there. There was still an entire world for them to explore. However, it also reminded Benny that there would always be a way to get back home. There would always be a bridge to cross.
A smile lingered on his lips for a moment as he crossed over from Amsterdam to Broadway, wondering if any tourists ever walked the famous White Way up this far. There were no theaters, no fancy restaurants, no deluxe hotel suites with a view of Time's Square. This was the Broadway that they knew.
It felt good, somehow, knowing that that even here in New York City something belonged to their community. It could not be marketed and no matter how many postcards showed the Washington Bride lit up at night, nobody came up this far to take a look themselves. Benny liked having a part of the city to call his own. It was as if he could tuck the Heights into his pocket and keep it there, always with him but nobody else knowing what it was.
A smile lingered on his face as he turned onto a side street, leaving Broadway behind. This was the Time's Square of the Heights. The lights from the bodega illuminated the street, regrettably the only building still occupied by a business. The salon and dispatch had boarded up windows, graffiti covering almost every inch. Music came from the windows and Benny turned his face to the sky.
He could go into the bodega and see what Usnavi and Sonny were doing, or try to find Pete to ask about that song. Daniella, Carla, and Vanessa would be closing up the new salon and arriving back within the hour. He could go up to his own apartment, even, though that thought made him more depressed than independent.
Footsteps and hushed words made Benny turn round, trying to see who was coming onto the street. It seemed so empty of late, after the morning and evening rushes passed through. Feeling his pupils dilate as he squinted into the distance, Benny recognized the fast Spanish the two were conversing in.
Rather than duck into the bodega or even turn and start walking the other way, Benny remained where he was, watching the forms of Camila and Kevin come into view. Kevin wore a simply long-sleeved shirt, much different than the collared shirt and tie he used to wear. Benny could see his hands were stained black, no doubt from whatever car he had been working on.
Both had worn faces, bags under their eyes. They walked slowly and their footsteps were synced. Benny turned his face the other way, not wanting to speak to either one. He and Nina were still together, after all, which both Kevin and Camila hated. He tried to block out their conversation while feeling it was entirely unnecessary at the same time. He, after all, did not speak Spanish.
The conversation ended abruptly and he heard Camila mutter something about a 'casa.' Benny assumed she had said something about going home then winced and turned further from the two. He did not want to eavesdrop on his potential parents in-law. Well, that is, unless the two convinced Nina that she could do better. Benny knew that their relationship put unneeded strain on the Rosarios' family dynamic. He must have assured Nina at least a dozen times by now that she could leave him, no hard feelings, if she wanted.
"You're kidding," she had teased him the first time he had suggested this, tapping his nose lightly. The smile playing about her lips told him that she did not want to talk about it, which had become more than obvious when she pressed that smile onto his temple.
"Benny."
He jumped, turning so fast he felt his neck crack. Massaging it furiously, Benny looked down at Camila's frail form. She had her arms crossed over her chest, and her mouth was set in a line. The almost-frown did not match her eyes, Benny was relieved to see. A modestly-cut dress moved with the breeze, hem brushing against her knees.
"Ms. Rosario," Benny nodded his head awkwardly, noticing too late that he had called her 'Ms.' It had always been a struggle, trying to figure out how to address Nina's mother. 'Camila,' did not seem suitable, but neither did 'Señora,' since he was not Hispanic. Calling her 'Mom' was completely out of the question, so Benny usually settled on whichever title popped into his head first: 'Mrs.' or 'Ms.'
"Walk with me," Camila instructed, uncrossing her arms to seize Benny's forearm and pull him alongside her. The two fell into step, Benny shuffling and Camila taking confident steps. Benny looked around wildly, mentally pleading with Usnavi or Sonny to come out of the bodega and rescue him. Casting a look over his shoulder, he saw Kevin standing with his arms crossed, watching the two of them.
"Don't you worry about him," Camila said, following Benny's gaze. "This has nothing to do with him. I want to speak with you about my daughter."
"Yes'm," Benny looked quickly at Camila's face and instantly wished he hadn't. The woman's eyes were so tired, her hair graying and wrinkles forming around her eyes. Benny did not find Camila unattractive and was not put off by signs of age, but it pained him to know that he had most likely been the cause of one or two - or several hundred - of those gray hairs. Were his feelings for her daughter causing this wonderful woman to wither away before his eyes?
But no, he was being melodramatic. Camila looked absolutely stunning for a woman her age, and she always had. She had quite some time left on the earth and was in no way 'withering away.' Benny squeezed his hands into fists then hastily flexed his fingers, wiping his palms on his pants.
Camila turned onto an adjacent street abruptly, causing Benny to stumble in his now rather steady gait in order to avoid walking into her. Camila's mouth stretched into what he hoped was a tiny smile as she led him back towards Broadway. The Washington Bridge was twinkling innocently in front of them, as if taunting them. Come closer and cross me, it whispered.
"Do you love her, Benny?" Camila asked suddenly, stopping completely. Benny turned around, certain that he had not heard her correctly.
"I'm sorry?" he asked, leaning up against a lamppost as Camila's eyes fixed upon his face. He tried to meet her gaze but found his eyes flitting somewhere around her nose every time he made an attempt.
"You heard me," Camila's voice was hardened, Spanish accent becoming more prominent, a sure sign she was cross. "Do you love my daughter?"
"Well… yeah," Benny shifted uncomfortably where he stood.
"Then I have to ask you a favor," Camila took a step closer, reaching out and lying a hand on Benny's. Her eyes were no longer tired; they were pleading with him. This frightened Benny more than the age he suddenly saw in her face.
"S-sure, Ms. Rosario," he stammered, wishing she would let go of his hand.
"You have to let her go," Camila's voice was even, eyes unblinking. Benny could tell that it hurt her to say this, that she at least understood Nina's feelings for him. She knew what she was asking for would hurt her daughter.
"What?" Benny jerked his hand away, wishing a lamppost was not digging into his back. He felt trapped. "Why would I do that? You just asked me if I love her, and I do. So why would I want to let her go?"
"Benny…" she began in a patronizing tone, making Benny frown. "You don't understand. Nina is attending one of the best universities in the country. It took years and years of work for her to get there, and I don't want to see her distracted." Camila folded her hands and let them drop onto the still blowing skirt of her dress. "Don't you understand? The two of you are so different. Let her meet a nice boy at Stanford, one who can help her build the life she deserves."
His eyebrows furrowed, and his stomach turned over. There it was; she had said it. He did not deserve Nina. Benny's main fear was that Nina would one day realize that she was so much better than he was, that any future they could have together involved her working and bringing in a good portion of the income. He was terrified that she would realize she was better off without him, that she would finally listen to her parents.
"I know she deserves more than this," Benny looked at the concrete, gesturing idly to the street. "You're right, of course. But…" he felt like a kindergartener caught stealing crayons and hated how his voice cracked, "I make her happy. Isn't that good enough?"
"Ice cream, movies, and sleeping make her happy too," Camila countered, "but if Nina had nothing but those three things, what do you think would become of her?" She stomped her foot, making Benny cringe. "She would be a lazy bum on the street within a week! And I will not see my daughter live like that!"
Camila's sudden anger scared Benny very much. He kept his gaze fixed on the pavement and said glumly, "Okay, fine. I understand." Slumping his shoulders, he chanced a look up at Camila.
She slapped him across the face. The sound reverberated around the deserted street and Benny put a hand to his cheek. He looked at Camila incredulously, frowning and utterly bewildered.
"Damn! What was that for?" he shouted, pressing his back further into the lamppost and wishing, again, that he had not backed himself into it.
"What is wrong with you?" Camila had her hands on her hips. "You just said you love my daughter, but you'll let me tell you what to do?"
"I-I… yes?" Benny asked hopefully.
"NO!" Camila stomped her foot again. "If you love Nina, then you shouldn't care what I have to say." She was glaring daggers at Benny, which made him squirm. "Now I know you want Kevin's approval, but you know what? To hell with that! You love Nina and she loves you, and that's all that matters.
"Now you just think about that."
Camila walked away, leaving a very stunned Benny behind her. He slowly detached his back from the lamppost, hand still on his cheek. He wondered if there would be a handprint on it come tomorrow. He wondered if Camila would tell Kevin or Nina about this encounter.
"No," he whispered to himself, certain that she wouldn't. He wouldn't either; this would remain between the two of them.
Benny set off walking in the other direction, circling around back to the bodega. The Washington Bridge twinkled at him, as if reassuring him that everything would turn out all right. It reminded Benny that he would eventually have to patch things up with Kevin, that this conversation with Camila was not enough.
But you knew that already, didn't you? asked a little voice in his head. Benny smiled and winked at the Washington Bride. Of course he had known that. He knew that, sooner or later, he would speak with Kevin and beg him to try to understand where he was coming from. He would ask him to accept the fact that he loved Nina.
For now, Benny was content. He would cross that bridge when he came to it.
Fandom: In the Heights
Written: January, 2009
Rating: PG
Words: 3100
Summary: Benny walks back to the Heights one evening, thinking about his life. He comes across Kevin and Camila, the latter of whom has a nice little chat with him.
------
Benny stared at the grimy glass he held in his hand. It rested on the funny-looking coaster the bartender had given him, preventing it from leaving a ring on the polished wood surface of the bar. Little lights glinted in the glass, partially obscured where his hand encircled it. The ice cubes clinked together gently as he raised the glass to his lips.
The slightly sour liquid slid easily down his throat. Benny held the glass by his chest, looking into it again. He noticed tiny brown particles swimming in the amber liquid and grimaced. Losing his taste for the drink, he replaced it on the coaster, pushing it a couple inches away. He looked over his shoulder at the bar, trying to pick out familiar faces and finding it near impossible in the dim light.
His eyes followed a man with his necktie hanging loose around his neck, several buttons on his shirt undone, as he walked over to the old fashioned jukebox tucked away in the corner. The man slid a coin into it and chose an old rock song Benny vaguely remembered. He tried to recall the chorus as the man walked back to his seat, gait swaggering slightly in time with the song. Benny raised an eyebrow, thinking that the man looked rather silly.
He turned back to the bar, smiling into his discarded glass as he thought about how different things would have been had he been up in Washington Heights with his friends. Someone would be playing salsa or merengue music in their apartment, turning the speakers toward their open window so the people down on the street could hear. At dusk, the club music would take over and what felt like the entire community would go out dancing.
Even in the Hispanic-dominated population of the Heights, Benny always felt as if he was a part of the community. But here, in this tiny corner-street bar that he happened upon, nobody spoke to the people sitting around them. Everyone was engaged in their own business, some smoking cigarettes in a corner and some reading tatty paperback books while sipping their multi-colored drinks.
Benny heaved a sigh, his entire body slumping as he did so. He pulled a couple crumpled bills from his back pocket and left them on the counter for the bartender. Looking around the bar once more, he made his way towards the door.
"Hey hot stuff."
A woman he had never seen before in his life ran her fingers along his arm, smiling sideways at him. Benny paused, sure that she had mistaken him for someone else. His eyebrows narrowed into a confused frown, and his mouth opened into a small 'o' of surprise when the woman grabbed his tie and tried to pull him back into the bar.
"Do I know you?" he asked, gently prying the woman's fingers from his tie and flattening it against his chest.
"Not yet," she told him, winking one heavily eyeshadowed eyelid. Benny raised an eyebrow again, shaking his head slightly and his hand falling on the doorknob. He twisted it violently and pushed the door open with much more force than was needed, not saying anything to the woman as a goodbye.
Benny ran a hand over his tie again, smoothing the impressions the woman's fingers had left. He cleared his throat and began walking uptown, wondering why he had wandered so far from home in the first place. He walked quickly and with purpose, his feet hitting the cracked pavement harder than they had on the trip down.
There had been a time when Benny would have been flattered to have a woman flirt with him at random, to know that she had been drawn to him by his looks. He would have stayed back in that bar for who knows how long, doing more touching than talking and losing track of the hours.
That Benny had up and left, just like Nina had.
A sudden breeze made him shiver slightly, and he rolled his sleeves down. He took care to button the cuffs. Tugging at his necktie slightly, Benny adjusted his collar, pulling it a bit higher.
His eyes started wandering over the street, noticing the plethora of taxis honking at each other to move. It made him laugh, remembering that he had once been one of those yellow cabs that nobody could tell apart, just a tiny yellow dot on the island of Manhattan. He looked inside the parked cabs, trying to see if he recognized any drivers. He knew Donny had gotten another job as a cab driver, and that man did have an affinity for bright blue hats.
The harassed faces all peered back at him, as if daring him to ask for a ride. Shrugging, Benny gave this up as a bad job. He focused on the pavement in front of him instead. He kicked a discarded soda can into an alley to the left, which satisfied him for some reason. Sticking his hands in his pockets and his thumbs in his belt loops, Benny started humming to himself, still trying to remember the chorus to that old rock song.
Pete would know, he suddenly realized, chuckling at his own stupidity. The kid only walks around all day with that humungous boom box on his shoulder, blasting anything and everything except the typical Latino choices that already came from the windows. He allowed himself another laugh at the memory of Daniella chucking a hair dryer at Pete one day because she was fed up with him 'ruining the vibe.'
Making a mental note to ask Pete about the song later, Benny crossed the street, still humming. He would forget the melody as soon as he entered the Heights, he knew, if he didn't ingrain it in his memory now. It wouldn't really bother him if he didn't find out what the song was, but at the moment he was curious.
It was with a slight clench in his stomach that Benny noticed the deterioration of the buildings as he kept walking. The farther north he walked, the more neglected the buildings looked. Windowsills hung precariously from the walls, as if daring a wind to knock them off. Chips of paint littered the sidewalk. Door handles were rusting and made the area prone to tetanus problems.
But even with all these imperfections, the Heights was still home. Benny could see the Washington Bridge up ahead, its lights glinting in the fading sunlight. More than anything, that was the symbol of home. It connected their little world to the rest of the country, reminding them daily that there was more out there. There was still an entire world for them to explore. However, it also reminded Benny that there would always be a way to get back home. There would always be a bridge to cross.
A smile lingered on his lips for a moment as he crossed over from Amsterdam to Broadway, wondering if any tourists ever walked the famous White Way up this far. There were no theaters, no fancy restaurants, no deluxe hotel suites with a view of Time's Square. This was the Broadway that they knew.
It felt good, somehow, knowing that that even here in New York City something belonged to their community. It could not be marketed and no matter how many postcards showed the Washington Bride lit up at night, nobody came up this far to take a look themselves. Benny liked having a part of the city to call his own. It was as if he could tuck the Heights into his pocket and keep it there, always with him but nobody else knowing what it was.
A smile lingered on his face as he turned onto a side street, leaving Broadway behind. This was the Time's Square of the Heights. The lights from the bodega illuminated the street, regrettably the only building still occupied by a business. The salon and dispatch had boarded up windows, graffiti covering almost every inch. Music came from the windows and Benny turned his face to the sky.
He could go into the bodega and see what Usnavi and Sonny were doing, or try to find Pete to ask about that song. Daniella, Carla, and Vanessa would be closing up the new salon and arriving back within the hour. He could go up to his own apartment, even, though that thought made him more depressed than independent.
Footsteps and hushed words made Benny turn round, trying to see who was coming onto the street. It seemed so empty of late, after the morning and evening rushes passed through. Feeling his pupils dilate as he squinted into the distance, Benny recognized the fast Spanish the two were conversing in.
Rather than duck into the bodega or even turn and start walking the other way, Benny remained where he was, watching the forms of Camila and Kevin come into view. Kevin wore a simply long-sleeved shirt, much different than the collared shirt and tie he used to wear. Benny could see his hands were stained black, no doubt from whatever car he had been working on.
Both had worn faces, bags under their eyes. They walked slowly and their footsteps were synced. Benny turned his face the other way, not wanting to speak to either one. He and Nina were still together, after all, which both Kevin and Camila hated. He tried to block out their conversation while feeling it was entirely unnecessary at the same time. He, after all, did not speak Spanish.
The conversation ended abruptly and he heard Camila mutter something about a 'casa.' Benny assumed she had said something about going home then winced and turned further from the two. He did not want to eavesdrop on his potential parents in-law. Well, that is, unless the two convinced Nina that she could do better. Benny knew that their relationship put unneeded strain on the Rosarios' family dynamic. He must have assured Nina at least a dozen times by now that she could leave him, no hard feelings, if she wanted.
"You're kidding," she had teased him the first time he had suggested this, tapping his nose lightly. The smile playing about her lips told him that she did not want to talk about it, which had become more than obvious when she pressed that smile onto his temple.
"Benny."
He jumped, turning so fast he felt his neck crack. Massaging it furiously, Benny looked down at Camila's frail form. She had her arms crossed over her chest, and her mouth was set in a line. The almost-frown did not match her eyes, Benny was relieved to see. A modestly-cut dress moved with the breeze, hem brushing against her knees.
"Ms. Rosario," Benny nodded his head awkwardly, noticing too late that he had called her 'Ms.' It had always been a struggle, trying to figure out how to address Nina's mother. 'Camila,' did not seem suitable, but neither did 'Señora,' since he was not Hispanic. Calling her 'Mom' was completely out of the question, so Benny usually settled on whichever title popped into his head first: 'Mrs.' or 'Ms.'
"Walk with me," Camila instructed, uncrossing her arms to seize Benny's forearm and pull him alongside her. The two fell into step, Benny shuffling and Camila taking confident steps. Benny looked around wildly, mentally pleading with Usnavi or Sonny to come out of the bodega and rescue him. Casting a look over his shoulder, he saw Kevin standing with his arms crossed, watching the two of them.
"Don't you worry about him," Camila said, following Benny's gaze. "This has nothing to do with him. I want to speak with you about my daughter."
"Yes'm," Benny looked quickly at Camila's face and instantly wished he hadn't. The woman's eyes were so tired, her hair graying and wrinkles forming around her eyes. Benny did not find Camila unattractive and was not put off by signs of age, but it pained him to know that he had most likely been the cause of one or two - or several hundred - of those gray hairs. Were his feelings for her daughter causing this wonderful woman to wither away before his eyes?
But no, he was being melodramatic. Camila looked absolutely stunning for a woman her age, and she always had. She had quite some time left on the earth and was in no way 'withering away.' Benny squeezed his hands into fists then hastily flexed his fingers, wiping his palms on his pants.
Camila turned onto an adjacent street abruptly, causing Benny to stumble in his now rather steady gait in order to avoid walking into her. Camila's mouth stretched into what he hoped was a tiny smile as she led him back towards Broadway. The Washington Bridge was twinkling innocently in front of them, as if taunting them. Come closer and cross me, it whispered.
"Do you love her, Benny?" Camila asked suddenly, stopping completely. Benny turned around, certain that he had not heard her correctly.
"I'm sorry?" he asked, leaning up against a lamppost as Camila's eyes fixed upon his face. He tried to meet her gaze but found his eyes flitting somewhere around her nose every time he made an attempt.
"You heard me," Camila's voice was hardened, Spanish accent becoming more prominent, a sure sign she was cross. "Do you love my daughter?"
"Well… yeah," Benny shifted uncomfortably where he stood.
"Then I have to ask you a favor," Camila took a step closer, reaching out and lying a hand on Benny's. Her eyes were no longer tired; they were pleading with him. This frightened Benny more than the age he suddenly saw in her face.
"S-sure, Ms. Rosario," he stammered, wishing she would let go of his hand.
"You have to let her go," Camila's voice was even, eyes unblinking. Benny could tell that it hurt her to say this, that she at least understood Nina's feelings for him. She knew what she was asking for would hurt her daughter.
"What?" Benny jerked his hand away, wishing a lamppost was not digging into his back. He felt trapped. "Why would I do that? You just asked me if I love her, and I do. So why would I want to let her go?"
"Benny…" she began in a patronizing tone, making Benny frown. "You don't understand. Nina is attending one of the best universities in the country. It took years and years of work for her to get there, and I don't want to see her distracted." Camila folded her hands and let them drop onto the still blowing skirt of her dress. "Don't you understand? The two of you are so different. Let her meet a nice boy at Stanford, one who can help her build the life she deserves."
His eyebrows furrowed, and his stomach turned over. There it was; she had said it. He did not deserve Nina. Benny's main fear was that Nina would one day realize that she was so much better than he was, that any future they could have together involved her working and bringing in a good portion of the income. He was terrified that she would realize she was better off without him, that she would finally listen to her parents.
"I know she deserves more than this," Benny looked at the concrete, gesturing idly to the street. "You're right, of course. But…" he felt like a kindergartener caught stealing crayons and hated how his voice cracked, "I make her happy. Isn't that good enough?"
"Ice cream, movies, and sleeping make her happy too," Camila countered, "but if Nina had nothing but those three things, what do you think would become of her?" She stomped her foot, making Benny cringe. "She would be a lazy bum on the street within a week! And I will not see my daughter live like that!"
Camila's sudden anger scared Benny very much. He kept his gaze fixed on the pavement and said glumly, "Okay, fine. I understand." Slumping his shoulders, he chanced a look up at Camila.
She slapped him across the face. The sound reverberated around the deserted street and Benny put a hand to his cheek. He looked at Camila incredulously, frowning and utterly bewildered.
"Damn! What was that for?" he shouted, pressing his back further into the lamppost and wishing, again, that he had not backed himself into it.
"What is wrong with you?" Camila had her hands on her hips. "You just said you love my daughter, but you'll let me tell you what to do?"
"I-I… yes?" Benny asked hopefully.
"NO!" Camila stomped her foot again. "If you love Nina, then you shouldn't care what I have to say." She was glaring daggers at Benny, which made him squirm. "Now I know you want Kevin's approval, but you know what? To hell with that! You love Nina and she loves you, and that's all that matters.
"Now you just think about that."
Camila walked away, leaving a very stunned Benny behind her. He slowly detached his back from the lamppost, hand still on his cheek. He wondered if there would be a handprint on it come tomorrow. He wondered if Camila would tell Kevin or Nina about this encounter.
"No," he whispered to himself, certain that she wouldn't. He wouldn't either; this would remain between the two of them.
Benny set off walking in the other direction, circling around back to the bodega. The Washington Bridge twinkled at him, as if reassuring him that everything would turn out all right. It reminded Benny that he would eventually have to patch things up with Kevin, that this conversation with Camila was not enough.
But you knew that already, didn't you? asked a little voice in his head. Benny smiled and winked at the Washington Bride. Of course he had known that. He knew that, sooner or later, he would speak with Kevin and beg him to try to understand where he was coming from. He would ask him to accept the fact that he loved Nina.
For now, Benny was content. He would cross that bridge when he came to it.