Meet My Mami

My mother is a wonderful mami. She scrubs away stains and whitens my whites with bleach, crouched inside our tub; the water swirling around her ankles as if she were washing rags in rivers of the Dominican Republic. She bakes a tray of tasty perni - seasoned with lemon, Adobo, and oregano - to later pack my leftovers inside plastic Tupperware. And she never fails to purchase a 2-liter bottle of Coco Rico - my favorite carbonated beverage – every time I visit. I can always count on her to hide the green tinted bottle underneath the dining room chair so no one else will drink it.

She is the best mami in the world. Not only because of her impressive domestic skills and her selfless ability to cater to my every whim, but also because, like most Latina mami’s, she defends her children even if it means drowning in the depths of self-denial, transforming the naughtiest of sins into acts of sainthood. And like most Latina mami’s she is overprotective, which can be both soothing and infuriating. It feels wonderful when she massages my lower back pain with Icy Hot. It’s an entirely different scenario when, in the middle of deep sleep, she smears my temples and nostrils with Vicks to “open up” my sinuses.

Elijah’s mami was no different. She would stop at nothing to protect him from possible harm. She called whenever he would spend the night, questioning his whereabouts, and scolding him, stating he had a warm bed to sleep in at home. She questioned my intentions as I was five years Elijah’s senior, convinced I would eventually want “a man who was established, with a career and a house.” And this was also the woman who, as Elijah stated once: “wouldn’t speak to you if she didn’t like you.” It was no surprise I was terrified when Elijah asked me to meet his mami...

He turned the knob and I imagined being greeted by a Columbian amazon woman since Elijah reached a full six feet. But there was no one but me and Elijah. I stood in the small first floor foyer as he bent over and took off his sneakers one by one. He then placed them among fuzzy gray chancletas (slippers) and two pairs of mustard Timberland boots. I gripped the bottom of the thick white columns that towered over me from the above floor and leaned against the wall. The columns were supported by a metal rail as I was supported by the wall.

“Should I take my boots off?” I asked.

“No, that’s ok. I just take them off to be comfortable,” he replied.

I looked down at my feet and then at the collection that lay to my right. It seemed everyone felt comfortable barefoot.

Elijah grabbed my hand and I followed him up three short steps. We then stood there, waiting. In the background was the sound of running water. The shhhh coming from behind a mauve colored wall, next to a dining set. I scanned the open space as we waited. There were four plush chairs surrounding a wooden center table. A majestic area rug, with hints of gold and red, lay underneath. We were then in silence; I longed to hear one more drip.

“Mija!” yelled Elijah.

“Ahora voy, papito!” she replied.

My hands felt clammy. I placed them on my jeans and slightly began to rub them up and down. Elijah’s mami emerged from behind the wall.

“This is Sujeiry,” Elijah said.

Her big brown eyes traveled from my heels to my face then back. I wished I had taken off my shoes. Her toffee colored arms lay across her chest. She was small framed like me - must have been about 5 foot 3 inches - but she was still intimidating. I smiled, embraced her and planted a kiss on her left cheek.

“Mucho gusto,” I said.

“Igualmente,” she replied.

She asked where I was from and what I was studying. All things she had learned from Elijah. But I was elated she was speaking to me. The conversation, mostly compromised of small talk, ended quickly. Elijah then grabbed my hand and we walked toward his bedroom. She stood in the hallway, watching me as my heels clicked against the hardwood floors.

Elijah and I lay in bed watching Stewey hit his mami on the Family Guy. I looked at Elijah and asked,

“You think your mom liked me?”

“I think she did.”

He planted a kiss on my lips, unwrapped himself from my legs and went to use the bathroom. I lay on my side, hoping he was right, when there was a knock on the door. A few seconds passed and his mami peeked her head in.

“Tienes hamber?" she asked.
(Are you hungry?)

“Si, gracias.” I replied.

“Te traigo un plato ahora,” she said with a smile.
(I will bring you some food)

She walked away, closing the door behind her, and I knew she liked me. She seemed just as wonderful as my mami.