Cubanita Read Online Free PDF Page A

somewhere to get coffee. That’s what he mentioned.”
    â€œ ¿Mi vida, por qué te estás enredando en algo nuevo? ”
    â€œWhat? I’m not getting wrapped up in anything new. I’m just going to have coffee with a fellow teacher.”
    â€œOn a Thursday night, hija ?”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œI thought it was too hot for coffee.”
    Oh, now she thinks she’s funny, just because I haven’t been drinking hers in the morning. Mom could’ve been an accountant with that scorekeeping of hers. She offers her best disapproving smirk. “ ¿Y vestida así? ”
    â€œ Déjala ,” my dad referees again, without a glance our way.
    I look down at the outfit I threw on. Fine, the one I chose carefully. My superlow jeans with a really cute blue peasant top, which Stefan picked out for me. I guess it’s not so bad having a mall rat for a brother. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
    â€œIs that how everyone dresses when meeting a fellow teasher ?”
    I make a huge effort to avoid rolling my eyes. “It’s teacher, Mami, not teasher . Honestly, I don’t know why you can’t say teacher. It’s the same ch -sound as in chocolate . You can say chocolate just fine, can’t you? So say teacher.”
    â€œÂ¡Teacher… teasher … déjame tranquila ya !” She flails the remote control high above her head. And God also forbidshe could speak without using the full range of her arms.
    â€œ Teasher is something you wear with jeans,” I add. If grief is what she wants to give me tonight, two can play that game.
    â€œIsa, enough.” My dad’s crooked eyebrow warns from above the magazine.
    You know, she came here when she was nineteen. It’s been, like, twenty-six years. You’d think in twenty-six years, she could learn how to speak correctly. “Look, this is what I’m wearing, okay? There’s nothing wrong with it.”
    She quickly scans my ensemble before focusing back on Univision. “He’s going to get the wrong impression.”
    â€œMom, stop it! I’m not wearing a see-through teddy, am I?”
    â€œ Para de gritar ,” she calmly orders.
    â€œI’m not screaming.”
    â€œ Para de gritar ,” she coos, and any moment now, I probably will scream, just from hearing her ask me not to.
    â€œ Déjala ,” my father says yet again.
    See what I mean? I can’t take this! I just love the way she picks fights, pushing all the right buttons, then asks me to stay calm. Bullshit! My friends never have to put up with this. Their mothers always let them wear whatever they want, as long as it isn’t slutty. Me, I’m wearing the most normal outfit ever, but she puts on a show.
    I tell you, if not going out with Andrew is what she wants from me tonight, she’s doing more harm than good. If there’s anything I want, it’s to see him. Someone with a fresh face. Someone who’ll listen without criticizing. Someone who canpronounce “teacher”!
    â€œGood night, Mom.” I think I’ll wait for Andrew outside. I grab my keys from my purse and aim for the door. “Good night, Dad.”
    As I’m walking out, I hear my father blowing his usual good-bye kisses. My mother’s voice, icy and stubborn, calls from the living room. “ Isa, no llegues tarde .”
    Humpf . I’ll get home whatever time I damn well please. Of course, I’d never say that. My father would shove that TV Guide right up my ass.
    Â 
    Starbucks on Miracle Mile is crazy. We wait, like, twenty minutes just to order and another five to get our drinks. Still, it’s a great night, moon out and everything, as Andrew and I sit outside. Table for two. Lots of people on the sidewalk, probably on their way to the art studios around here. Maybe after I stop boring Andrew with tales of Mother Díaz, we can head to one.
    Out of thin air a