Read Online Love on the Ledge by Zoraida Cordova - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Zoraida Cordova
Tags: Romance, Contemporary
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actually. I’ve always wanted to rent a house out here for the summer. I spend most summers at my place in Florida, but I gave it to my mom two years ago.”
“Yeah, must be a pain to bring over girls when your mom’s home.”
He laughs into his drink, nearly snorting tequila. “You’ve gotten really blunt.”
“How do you know I wasn’t always?”
He turns his head from side to side. “I remember a little girl with braces that sparkled from across the hallway. She wore a long braid down her back, and the kids in the building called her Pocahontas. She wore men’s t-shirts and leggings before it was cool to wear leggings.”
So he does remember me. I take a long sip from my wine glass. “I still can’t bring myself to watch Pocahontas because of those kids.”
“I can’t bring myself to eat strawberries,” he says a little more quietly.
“Why did they call you that?” I ask. “I’m sorry I brought it up, but that’s the first thing that came to my head.”
“No, I’ve gotten over it,” he says, not looking up from his lap for a few seconds. “My mom put something red in my uniform whites. They came out pink. You know the kind of kids we grew up with. They hounded me every day, calling me Strawberry. My mother couldn’t afford new socks or pants until the next paycheck, but the damage was done.”
“The kids in the building were pretty terrible.”
“I hated that place,” he tells me. “I promised myself that I’d never let my kids grow up like that.”
“You turned out fine,” I say. “So did I. Sometimes you can have all the money in the world, go to the best school, live in the best neighborhoods, and the people can be just as shitty as the poor side of town.”
He shrugs. “Doesn’t hurt to not go hungry.”
I answer with a sip of wine. “Well, we’re the adults now. It’s our turn to take care of our mothers.”
“Most of the women I meet don’t understand that about me. Not you, though. We come from the same kind of place, and we got ourselves out of that. But enough of the past. Right now, I want you to tell me about yourself. You said you’re a nurse.”
I nod, fidgeting with the corner of the menu. “Yep. I did a year at Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston.”
I wonder what else my mother told him. The idea that this stranger, quasi-stranger, knows everything about my life makes me want to break into hives. I let the last drops of wine coat my tongue. The waitress comes around and takes our order.
Another round of drinks. I order guacamole and steak tacos with extra queso, and he orders a shrimp salad, hold the croutons and cheese, and the dressing on the side.
“I have a couple of classmates who went into medicine. It’s the best kind of job security because there will always be sick people.”
I try to be my polite date-self but can’t help making a face. “Or, you know, it’s a good way to help people.”
He chuckles, and then I remember that I hate his laugh. “Oh, you’re one of those.”
“Excuse me?”
“Relax. I just mean everyone has their reasons for choosing a career in medicine. The hours are long, so long that it almost doesn’t make sense to have a family because the chances are more likely in favor of divorce.”
I think of Bradley’s parents. They were both doctors. They might as well be divorced since they both have not-so-secret affairs and sleep in separate rooms. Did I really think Bradley and I could have something considering where he came from?
“You must love being a doctor.”
He smirks. “I love being a plastic surgeon.”
Because of course he does.
“I learned from the best doctors in Florida, but everyone wants to go to Florida to get their work done. At the beginning of the year, I decided to open up my own office in the city with my college roommate, Dr. Gold. Gonzales and Gold just had a good ring to it, don’t you think? He specializes in implants for both sexes. I specialize in faces.”
As gross as
“Yeah, must be a pain to bring over girls when your mom’s home.”
He laughs into his drink, nearly snorting tequila. “You’ve gotten really blunt.”
“How do you know I wasn’t always?”
He turns his head from side to side. “I remember a little girl with braces that sparkled from across the hallway. She wore a long braid down her back, and the kids in the building called her Pocahontas. She wore men’s t-shirts and leggings before it was cool to wear leggings.”
So he does remember me. I take a long sip from my wine glass. “I still can’t bring myself to watch Pocahontas because of those kids.”
“I can’t bring myself to eat strawberries,” he says a little more quietly.
“Why did they call you that?” I ask. “I’m sorry I brought it up, but that’s the first thing that came to my head.”
“No, I’ve gotten over it,” he says, not looking up from his lap for a few seconds. “My mom put something red in my uniform whites. They came out pink. You know the kind of kids we grew up with. They hounded me every day, calling me Strawberry. My mother couldn’t afford new socks or pants until the next paycheck, but the damage was done.”
“The kids in the building were pretty terrible.”
“I hated that place,” he tells me. “I promised myself that I’d never let my kids grow up like that.”
“You turned out fine,” I say. “So did I. Sometimes you can have all the money in the world, go to the best school, live in the best neighborhoods, and the people can be just as shitty as the poor side of town.”
He shrugs. “Doesn’t hurt to not go hungry.”
I answer with a sip of wine. “Well, we’re the adults now. It’s our turn to take care of our mothers.”
“Most of the women I meet don’t understand that about me. Not you, though. We come from the same kind of place, and we got ourselves out of that. But enough of the past. Right now, I want you to tell me about yourself. You said you’re a nurse.”
I nod, fidgeting with the corner of the menu. “Yep. I did a year at Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston.”
I wonder what else my mother told him. The idea that this stranger, quasi-stranger, knows everything about my life makes me want to break into hives. I let the last drops of wine coat my tongue. The waitress comes around and takes our order.
Another round of drinks. I order guacamole and steak tacos with extra queso, and he orders a shrimp salad, hold the croutons and cheese, and the dressing on the side.
“I have a couple of classmates who went into medicine. It’s the best kind of job security because there will always be sick people.”
I try to be my polite date-self but can’t help making a face. “Or, you know, it’s a good way to help people.”
He chuckles, and then I remember that I hate his laugh. “Oh, you’re one of those.”
“Excuse me?”
“Relax. I just mean everyone has their reasons for choosing a career in medicine. The hours are long, so long that it almost doesn’t make sense to have a family because the chances are more likely in favor of divorce.”
I think of Bradley’s parents. They were both doctors. They might as well be divorced since they both have not-so-secret affairs and sleep in separate rooms. Did I really think Bradley and I could have something considering where he came from?
“You must love being a doctor.”
He smirks. “I love being a plastic surgeon.”
Because of course he does.
“I learned from the best doctors in Florida, but everyone wants to go to Florida to get their work done. At the beginning of the year, I decided to open up my own office in the city with my college roommate, Dr. Gold. Gonzales and Gold just had a good ring to it, don’t you think? He specializes in implants for both sexes. I specialize in faces.”
As gross as
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