My tutor is coming to get me. I haven't done all my homework, but I know she's take it easy on me. She drives a little black car and we give each other kisses on the cheek as I jump in. She always looks nice and happy to see me. We drive to a different location every time to do our lesson; a park bench, a coffee shop in a shopping mall, or a restaurant in the middle of a nursery. We talk, I struggle, I want to kick my brain for stumbling over words, but she smiles and corrects me. Let's me talk. Tells me stories about the time she spent in Germany or her life with her husband and her students. I can't tell her how much these classes mean to me, more than learning the past tense or vocabulary words, because my Portuguese is too poor and she refuses to speak to me in English. I love her for that. Love her for teaching me, but also for being my friend.
I find a crack between cars parked on the sidewalk and the doorman greats me. On the other side of the school's red metal door, there is a line of tiny chairs along the wall. Moms and nannies are waiting for the kids to finish school, and even though we've only just dropped them off, you can tell that we are all anxious to see our kids' happy faces. We hear a familiar song, and here they come, all in their red and white uniforms with school bags too big for their little bodies. Short, knobby legs take off in a sprint at the sight of mom and it's a big crowded reunion of people hugging and kissing. "What did you do at school today, sweetheart?", I ask the kid as I maneuver the stroller out of the door. "Nothing!" he says with a smirk.
Because we are from the North, we tolerate the warm breeze and put on our swim suits while the natives wear their sweaters and leather boots. We are the only ones in the pool. Pedro, the lifeguard, doesn't seem surprised that the "foreigners" have arrived with their foam noodle and he takes a seat in his usual spot. In the water, the kid hangs on to my neck with his arms like a vice, a proud happy smile spreading on his face. "I'm in the big kid pool, now! Check me out, Pedro!" While I pull him around the pool, encouraging him to kick his feet, the kid tells me about his thoughts; things he's figured out in this crazy world. I think I could stay in the pool forever just to hear what he has to say. He's a funny, smart kid.
My husband is wearing his crispy pants; the ones with a pleat on the front of the pant legs, and a pastel work shirt. His hair is coiffed, and his face is shaven. He gathers us his wallet, keys, cell phone and his work bag. He stands by the door and calls out to us for a goodbye kiss and a hug. He smells good. He's off to work, full of purpose and lists of things to do in his head. I like to see him looking "official" and ready for the day. Later, the suns set early and the towers around us light up slowly. There's a waft of garlic and onion coming from the neighbors window that fills the kitchen as if I had dinner ready. I'm waiting for the sound of the key in the door, for the slightly less crispy pants to walk in and seek us out for another kiss and a hug. I say, "Wanna order pizza?", he says, "Yes" as he pours us a glass of wine and smiles at me.
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