by Carolynn Bjorkman
The flight around the skyscrapers and out over the ocean began fine. There were a couple of tense moments when Diego’s face had gone absolutely ashen. But after a while, he seemed more at ease. Catching his face on film was akin to a child’s excitement on Christmas morning. His eyes sparkled, his laugh at the aerial maneuvers were hearty. Jenna wouldn’t have missed it for the world. She was seeing things anew through his eyes, which brought a renewed appreciation for her surroundings. But the greenish color to his skin when they landed caused her to positively howl with laughter. Diego didn’t quite grasp the humor of it. His head was hidden in the barf bag.
Jenna took pity on him and suggested the museum of California history. Now that ought to catch his interest. Maybe he could read something and verify the given facts. It didn’t happen. He did, on occasion, add a little extra information to it, but only to her. And, of course, only in the exhibits which would have been from his own era. One person he’d met, one incident his father had taken part in. There was a small-scale model of the cuartel of his own pueblo, which made him stop and inspect. Diego launched into amusing encounters with Sergeant Garcia or Monastario, and proceeded to demonstrate how he, as Zorro, pulled off his escapades. Jenna had to contain her laughter among the other visitors.
They decided on a quiet Mexican restaurant for dinner. As they sipped their sangria, the music became familiar to Jenna’s ears and she began singing along. “Guantanamera” was just one of many favorite oldies she loved. Diego watched and listened courteously, enjoying her ability to sing.
“It is a lovely song,” he remarked quietly, “Do you know the words?” For an answer, they both began to recite the English translation, which surprised Diego. “You can speak Spanish?” he asked.
“Not a whole lot, but if you wait a moment, the guy in the song tells you anyway,” Jenna answered humorously.
“No fair,” Diego replied, “that’s cheating.” Jenna nodded and they both began laughing lightly as their dinners materialized. Diego questioned the waiter as to what was on his plate after which he launched into a debate as to whether or not these were indeed tamales. The waiter brought out the chef, who marched out into the restaurant to defend his honor. And his tamales. The exchange of opinions lasted ten minutes, as Jenna sat there giggling till her sides ached.
“Diego, stop!” she pleaded, tears of laughter rolling down her face, “You won’t win. Things are made differently now, and passed off as the real enchilada.”
“But I did not ask for enchiladas, I requested tamales. I know vendors in the pueblo who actually know how to make tamales and this is not anything like it!” he replied indignantly.
Jenna was clutching her stomach laughing. “Diego, these days nothing is as genuine as it used to be. Even Scottish bagpipes are partially made in Pakistan or India!”
“I have not asked to eat bagpipes. Or enchiladas. I would simply like something that is a tamale!” he argued back.
Suddenly there was a stream of Spanish between the chef and Diego and none of it was sounding very good. Jenna wiped her eyes of the tears of laughter, threw a $20 down on the table, and began pulling on Diego’s arm to get out of there before things got hotter than the hottest salsa available. Diego was still fuming when they got out into the early evening air. What does one do to quickly distract someone this riled? She reached up and kissed him soundly. That shut him up! And neither seemed to mind, as it started to take on a very different….feel.
“What did you do that for?” Diego asked quietly, mere inches from her face.
“I..”Jenna stammered, “I..I wanted to shut you up. It worked.”
“It certainly did,” he replied, “I like your method. I’ll have to remember it.”
Jenna could feel herself turning beet red, and lowered her eyes for a moment, then raised them to see Diego smiling at her, putting her at ease and bringing a shy smile from her. Detaching herself from him—for her own sanctity, she told herself—Jenna had another idea.
“Let’s go see a movie!” she suggested exuberantly. “We should be able to get there just in time!” His blank look brought about a “Trust me!” from her as they walked back to the car and Jenna sped off. The theater was showing ‘Jurassic Park’. That ought to give him memories enough. She’d have to treat him to ‘Star Wars’, too. And a Three Stooges marathon was an absolute must!
Jenna was determined that he would never forget California as she knew it. There was so much to do, and limited time, she knew, to do it. But remember it he would.
She realized that Diego was someone she was not likely to forget either.
