# Garden Of Rosa Chapter 5

Garden of Rosa
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Chapter 5
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I entertain the both of us during the long car trip to Rosa’s house on the outskirts of Volcaldera, the city slowly giving way to suburban neighborhoods, which in turn yield their place to a patchwork of farms and ranch houses. Rosa turns off the lonely two-lane road, passing through a wrought-iron gate and down a well-maintained gravel drive. The gate proclaimed this as Rosa’s Family’s farm, and long stretches of green growing…things stretch off on either side of the drive. Even after all this time spent with the Garden club, I still have no idea how to tell plants: No doubt Rosa could tell me each and every crop her family grows.
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“Si, An-on, I know everything we grow out here! Papi likes when I take an interest in the family business.” Rosa must’ve heard my muttering, giving a smile as we pull up to a large ranch-style home, the open-air garage next to the house already filled with work trucks and a family mini-van. The garage is filled with fertilizer, farm tools, hoses: Everything to keep a family farm up and running. Following Rosa out of the car, my eyes linger on the back of one of the trucks, where several empty racks line the raised wooden walls of the truck bed.
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Rosa follows my gaze as she grabs her bag out of the backseat of her car. “That’s Papi’s truck. Mama doesn’t let him have his guns just lying in the back anymore, so he has to put them in the house.” What little blood I have left in my monitor-bleached face fades at Rosa’s words, eliciting another joyous laugh. “Ay, don’t look so worried, An-on! I’m sure he will like you as soon as he sees what a nice novio you are!” Rosa gives me a playful hip-check, her ample backside causing me to stumble a few paces sideways.
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“You sure he’s forgotten what his friend told him about us at the taqueria?” I meant it as a playful jab back at her, but Rosa’s face is suddenly serious, all humor gone as she turns towards me on the walk up to the house.
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“No, An-on. Papi doesn’t forget what happens to his little girl.” Rosa leaves me there, my face no doubt as white as sheet as she walks backwards, keeping her eyes on me. She covers her mouth with her hands, a gesture I initially mistake as serious before I realize she’s hiding back laughter. “An-on, you make it too easy to tease you!” I dart after Rosa, sending her wooping up the front steps, our laughter echoing across the empty fields. Catching up to her at the front door, I grab Rosa by the waist, tickling her fiercely across her stomach. Rosa’s laughter raises an octave, her playful shrieks punctuated with cries of “¡misericordia!” as she fumbles with her house keys.
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Eventually, I cease my hostilities, moving my arms just below her breasts, hugging her tightly. Rosa turns her head back to me with a kind smile, still slightly out of breath. Those eyes of hers make me melt, sending my heart racing as a blush no doubt spreads across my face. I could get lost in those crimson eyes, so full of warmth and life and love…
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God, I never understood that comic until now.
I release Rosa until we’re just holding hands, the front door still shut. Neither of us say anything, instead just standing there face-to-face, staring deeply into the other’s eyes. It’s all I can do to not kiss her, here on her family’s front porch. Perhaps the first good idea I’ve had in a while, considering her mother was waiting for us inside, but I still have to force myself to resist the temptation. Rosa’s keys jangle idly in her free hand.
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“An-on, I-“
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I cut Rosa off with a smile, Rosa’s face reddening slightly as I place a single finger to her lips.
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“Let’s go meet your madre, Rosa.”
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Beaming, Rosa nods, squeezing my hand once more before letting go to open the door. The inside of Rosa’s house can only be described as homey: Pictures of family members line nearly every available inch of the red-painted walls, including some of a young Rosa at what must be her quinceanera. A shoe rack nearly the size of my entire apartment dominates one side of the front door, Rosa slipping her sandals in with the mass of workbooks and sneakers. Rosa dumps her backpack on a bench opposite the door before heading further inside, leading me down a long hallway that must run the length of the house.
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“Mama! I’m home! An-on is with me!”
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“I’m in the kitchen, sweetie! Bring him over so I can get a good at him!” A gently matronly voice rings out from further down the hall. Give Rosa a few years, and I reckon she would sound just like her mother. Rosa leads me down into the kitchen in question, a massive citadel devoted to food and the preparation thereof. The kitchen definitely IS bigger than my entire apartment, a huge island dominating the middle of the space as top-of-the-line appliances line the outskirts. The smells wafting from a huge stained cookpot on the stove herald the promise of the delicious mole poblano, causing my mouth to water. But all that is dwarfed by the woman seated on a chain at the middle island, casually sipping from a hand-painted mug featuring two tiny handprints.
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Rosa greets her mother with a warm hug, planting a kiss on her cheek. Rosa’s mom is the spitting image of her daughter: The same long auburn hair cascades down her back, pulled loosely back in a ponytail this time; the familiar horns of an ankylosaur rising perhaps slightly longer than Rosa’s out of her scalp; the same kind face full of love peering out between the curls. They were built the same as well, Rosa’s mom maybe having the edge on her daughter in the weight department, no doubt a symptom of giving birth to six children. There is a strength in her eyes, however, making the fuzzy blue bathrobe, t-shirt and mom jeans as imposing and sharp as any high-powered suit. The more I look, though, the more cracks I could see in that mom façade. Rosa was never specific about the nature of her mom’s illness, but evidence of it is readily apparently: Her cheeks are gaunt, her pale peach skin already looking a little sallow. The chair Rosa’s mom sits in would be more at home around a formal dining table than a kitchen, and I think I can see the mug shake slightly as she sets it down.
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“So, you must be Anon….” Rosa’s mother looks me up and down, her crimson eyes having lost none of their keenness. I feel like I’m being weighed and measured as I extend my hand awkwardly towards the seated matriarch. Rosa’s mom brushes me off with a smile and a shake of her head, holding her arms out towards me. “Oooh, come here boy, give me a hug! I’m so glad to finally meet you; Rosa’s done nothing but talk about you ever since you two kissed.”
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“Mama! ¡Eso fue privado!” Rosa has already moved towards the stove, filling the kitchen with more heavenly scent as she stirred the large pot on the stove. Her mom gives me a familial rub on the back before releasing me, picking her mug back up. From here I can see it’s full of coffee, the two small handprints bearing a description: Rosa, 18 months.
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“Ay, privada my behind, Rosa! You don’t think I would take every opportunity to embarrass you in front of your boyfriend?” Rosa’s mom flashes me a smile above the rim of her mug as Rosa glowers red-faced at her. “Besides, wasn’t it you who I talked to long after your bedtime, all about how to attract a boy she liked?” I can feel my own face begin to glow as I stand there, awkwardly leaning against the kitchen island.
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“Mama, please! You’re embarrassing me!” Rosa moves about the kitchen as she talks, pulling things out of cabinets and adding them to the pot. Clearly, Rosa is as comfortable in the kitchen as she is in the garden.
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“That’s what madres are for, sweetie. So, Anon, what about you? Do you like my daughter, my precious little Rosa?” The forwardness of her question catches me off-guard, and I simply stare at Rosa’s mom for a few seconds, dumbfounded. “Well, Anon? She needs a strong man to stand by her, to support her! You can’t stay silent all the time, speak up!” Her demanding tone and piercing gaze reminded me why people found meeting the girlfriend’s parents intimidating.
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I finally manage to work some semblance of words out of my mouth. “Y-yes, I do, Ma’am. Like Rosa, that is. She’s, uh, very very nice, and, uh…” I trail off, my bravado failing under the patented mom-glare. Rosa’s mom takes another sip of her coffee, one eyebrow cocking in my direction.
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“Mama, leave An-on alone! Isn’t Papi supposed to be the one who interrogates him?” Rosa turns from the stove towards the two of us, pouting with concern. I shoot her a silent ‘thank you’, causing Rosa and her mom to smile; Rosa’s knowing, her mother’s mischievous.
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“I just have to make sure he’s the right boy for you, Rosa. Not everyone can keep up with your strength. But you do seem like a nice boy, Anon; sorry for the ‘enfadada madre’ act. Here, let me get you some water, dear.” Rosa’s mom goes to stand, a slow, laborious task that seems to take all her effort, pushing herself up with the island. Rosa is at her side at once, shooing her back into the seat.
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“No, no, Mama, I’ll get An-on some water! You just sit down, you know you need to save your strength! Did you put the chair by the stove when you were stirring like I asked?”
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Rosa’s mother rolls her eyes as she takes another sip of coffee. “Yes, Rosa, I sat by the stove. You know, I am not some fragile doll, I can take care of myself. I raised all of you kids, didn’t I? Anon, do I look weak too you?”
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Shitshitshitshit.
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I can sense the tension in the air at the question. Rosa pauses in filling up a glass from the fridge, glancing my way, her eyes pleading. Rosa’s mom likewise stares at me, and once again I find myself being weighed and measured. This is the woman who was supposed to be eager to see me? My mind whirls between truth and lie: Do I tell the truth, and possibly risk having my girlfriend’s mother mad at me from the first day? Or spare her feelings, and disappoint Rosa?
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No. It wouldn’t be fair to Rosa to lie, just to spare her mom’s feelings. I own Rosa my honestly, in this and everything else, even if it means hurting myself. I can handle her mom not liking me, but I couldn’t bear Rosa being upset.
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“Umm, Ma’am, you do seem a little… tired. Say, is there anything I can do to help? With dinner, I mean. I wouldn’t want to be a burden, or anything. What?” Rosa and her mother stare aghast at me as I offer to help with dinner, as if I just suggested something unthinkable. The moment passes, however, Rosa’s mom smirking as she takes another sip of her coffee. Rosa shoots me a complicated glance of her own as she hands me my water, equal parts thanks and outrage.
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“No, Anon, you’re our guest, that means you sit and eat and enjoy yourself. Tired, huh? I guess it’s what my coffee is for, hmmm? Tell me Anon, you just moved her, si?”
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I eagerly answer the questions Rosa’s mom fields me, her maternal interrogation having shifted towards my old school, my family, my hobbies. Luckily, thanks to Rosa I actually have some hobbies now besides shitposting on a Gutemalan hydroponics usenet, and the conversation flows naturally by, the kitchen slowly filling with more and more delicious smells. Rosa chimes in on occasion in my support, confirming that yes, I am indeed been a good boyfriend, and no, I’m not a school-shooter or something. After running me through the gambit, Rosa’s mother gives a self-satisfied nod, I presumably having passed her initial test. As I ask questions of my own about Rosa, her attitude slowly warms, and before long she recounting the adventures of ‘Rosa de Explora’, laughing along with me as Rosa covers her face in embarrassment.
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Wiping a tear of laughter from her eye, Rosa’s mom finishes the last of her coffee. “Rosa, sweetie, could you go get my purse? It’s on the dining table. I need pictures of the two of you! My little Rosa, all grown up, bringing a boy home with her for the first time.” Rosa leaps eagerly at the task, glad for the gap in the parental onslaught, kissing her mom on the cheek as she heads out of the kitchen. As she leaves, Rosa’s mom reaches across the island, taking my hand in hers. I can feel the tremors in her grip as she squeezes down.
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“Anon, thank you. I know I seem tough on you, but I need to, for Rosa. She’s been so worried about me lately, and you… well, you gave her something to be happy about again. You know how she worries about other people, always putting others’ needs before hers. It breaks my heart, seeing her worry, especially about me. You’re…” Rosa’s mother voice breaks a little bit, causing her to take a steadying breath. It’s as if all the remaining strength has left her, leaving behind a husk of woman barely holding it together. “You’re a very sweet, caring boy, for putting her needs before yours. Ay, listen to me! I sound like mi madre!” Rosa’s mom laughs, wiping away another tear. I don’t think this one has anything to do with laughter, however. Before I can answer, Rosa shuffles back into the room, handing her mother a small black purse, glancing quizzically in our direction.
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“Mama, are you okay? An-on, what’s-“
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“I’m okay Rosa, thank you sweetie.” Rosa’s mom quickly snatches her phone out of her purse, shooing her daughter over to me. “Okay, now, pictures before dinner! Come, scooch, scooch! Say ‘mi madre esta loca’!” In an instant that familiar mom-strength is back, and Rosa’s mom is all smiles as Rosa and I pose for pictures. I can still feel those tremors, though, still remember the way Rosa’s mother looked at me with pleading eyes.
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Dinner itself passes by quickly, halted only momentarily as Rosa leads us in grace. The mole poblano is possibly even more delicious than the first time I had it; Rosa’s mom having gone out of her way to procedure some chicken to add to mine, sparring me the soy-version that Rosa and herself were having. Before long, the three of us sat around their massive family table in the dining room, smiling and laughing as more family stories were spun out. Surrounding by pictures of their relatives, I could tell that Rosa and her mother shared a special bond that only a mother and daughter could share, one made all the more potent by Rosa having only brothers. I thought of the relationship I shared with my own family, of my mom and dad back in Rock Bottom, whom I hadn’t seen for months now. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel quite so alone. When Rosa announced it was time for her to drive me home, I realized that this house felt more like home to me than the sad, small apartment I had in Skin Row.
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I think it was at this moment that I know I loved Rosa.
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Walking around the dining table, Rosa’s mom took the opportunity to plant a kiss on my cheek as she gave me the biggest mom hug I’ve ever received. With promises to come again, I followed Rosa out of the house into the twilight of the evening, hesitating at the door to listen to the crickets chirp. It was nice to hear them again, so far out from the city. I couldn’t help but stand in the light of the front porch, savoring the lack of my normal lullaby of sirens and crackhead screams.
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“So, An-on, did you have a good time? Mi madre seemed to like you, so that is good. Once he hears you won over Mama, Papi will welcome you with open arms.” Rosa’s voice interrupted my thoughts. I could see Rosa smiling at me as I stood there, her arms crossed beneath her breasts like she was waiting for something. I couldn’t help but chuckle, watching her watch me. I was waiting for the same thing, after all.
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“What’s so funny, mi novio? What, is there something on my face?” I moved close to Rosa, our bodies almost touching. Slowly, I brush a strand of her shinning hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. Rosa blushes at my touch, shifting her body slightly into mine.
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“Rosa, I had a wonderful time tonight with your mom. She really is a special woman. Just like you.” Rosa’s blush deepens as she rolls her eyes slightly.
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“Ay, An-on, such a cheesy line! But I had a good time with you, too.” Our faces were almost touching at this point, Rosa’s eyes beginning to close. My hands trailed up her arms, coming to rest on her shoulders. “A very, very good time, An-on.” Her lips parted as she reached up to me, my own mouth coming down to meet hers. “Kiss me, mi amor…” Rosa’s arms crept up around my neck, pulling me even closer to her.
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That was all the excuse I needed.