by Jane Charles
We settle in at one of the tall tables and from where I’m sitting I can see our gate, so I will know if there are any changes. It wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve settled in to wait only to have to haul my ass down the opposite end of the terminal because the plane got redirected or something.
Julia brings back two tall drafts from the bar and sets one in front of me. “So, tell me about her.”
“Who?”
“Nina,” she says, as if aggravated.
“What’s there to tell? She’s a friend.”
“Okay, what color is her hair?”
“The color of wheat at the end of growing season right before it’s harvested.”
Julia takes a drink of her beer and raises an eyebrow at the same time.
Maybe I should have said light brown or dark blonde.
“Her eyes?”
“Light grey, not quite green.” More like the color of the sage Mom grows in her kitchen garden.
“What does she do at the gym?”
“Works with me. Front desk, helps out with the kid teams, whatever.”
“Is she athletic? Play any sports?”
“Soccer and rugby.”
Julia starts to grin. “That’s why you won’t go after her.”
“What do you mean?” I get all defensive.
“If she plays rugby, she could so kick your ass.”
“You forget I box,” I remind her.
“But, you’d never hit a girl.”
“Of course not.” In between all the Bible lessons were lessons on how to treat a girl—like she is a lady. Besides, any guy who would strike a female needs to be hogtied and dragged behind a bull.
“What are you doing for spring break?” Julia asks out of the blue, completely changing the topic, not that I’m complaining. If she asks me any more about Nina, she might figure out that I’ve kind of got it bad for her.
“Nothing. I’m not going home, if that is what you are asking.”
“Good.” She grins. “Because I plan on spending my break in New York.”
“Why?”
“Because, I’m not going back to Texas any more than you are when we graduate and I don’t want to stay in Philadelphia. I thought I’d look around and get a feel for the area. If I move there and live with or near you, Mom and Dad may not be so hard on me.”
“You will be twenty-two, Julia. They can’t really tell you what to do.”
She snorts. “They are going to keep trying to tell me what to do even when I have kids, if they are still alive.”
She’s got a point. They have very specific ideas about what is expected and neither Julia nor I are going to fall in line. We’re just not ready to tell them that yet.
6
I can’t believe this room is mine and mine alone. It’s so much better than sleeping in a shelter. Not that I’d ever slept in one, but I had heard stories and the idea of having only a cot to myself, in a room with dozens of cots, with complete strangers sleeping on them. That didn’t sound exactly appealing, but I was willing to sleep there. At my foster homes, it was usually three or four to a room, so this is really nice.
Here I sleep with a pillow as an actual pillow instead of my bag. At first my bag was my pillow, but then I looked at the door, the locked door and realized I was safe. Only Tex and Miguel live here and they aren’t going to mess with me and they sure as hell aren’t going to steal from me, so I let the bag drop to the floor by the bed and hugged a real pillow.
As shitty as it was for Johnny to take off like he did, at least I got a room out of it and have had the best four nights of sleep that I think I’ve ever had.
Miguel hasn’t said much more about Johnny leaving, but I know it broke the old man’s heart. He was like a son to Miguel and that asshole just up and left for greener pastures, if those can be found in the desert. Johnny will be sorry, I know it in my gut. You don’t shit on someone like that without really bad karma visiting you at one point. Then again, maybe Bambi is his really bad karma.
The alarm goes off and I hit the snooze and then turn it off. Why do I even bother with an alarm? I can’t remember the last time it woke me up. I’m always awake first. It’s like I’m the one waking it up.
Pushing the covers back on my bed, I get dressed for my run. It’s been almost a week since I’ve run and I really need to get out and get some miles in. After braiding my hair, I tie my running shoes. Maybe I’ll finally be able to save up enough so that I can splurge on a new pair. These aren’t in the best shape, old and secondhand. I picked them up at a thrift store. All of my clothing and shoes have come from a secondhand store. Well, except my bras and underwear. Those were purchased new because the idea of wearing someone else’s panties was just, well, gross. There’s not enough bleach on this earth to make it okay to wear secondhand underwear.
After letting myself out of the dark and quiet apartment, I head out of the building and down the back stairs. Miguel will be up soon so he can open the gym, but I didn’t want to wake him before he had to be. The sun isn’t quite up yet but I can see well enough to pick my way to the street, avoiding the one homeless guy by the dumpster and the other one who is sleeping under a heating vent. These two live in this corner and have for as long as I can remember. It’s really a shame there is no place else for them and they won’t use a shelter.
Virgil and Barry. Those are their names and they look a lot older than they are, but living on the streets can do that to you. They were both Marines and fought in Vietnam. If they were only nineteen during the fall of Saigon, they’d be sixty or sixty-one now. The one thing I do have a brain for is history and dates. Maybe I should study history in college but I have no clue what I’d do with a degree in that.
Or, maybe I should think about enlisting. The plus side, I could get college paid for. On the negative, I’m not sure they have women’s soccer or rugby. But, if I can’t get into college, it’s an option and won’t be off the table until the school hunt has been exhausted.
Hardly anyone is out on the street as I head ten blocks north to the park I like to run in. It’s about the only large green space around. The houses around it are nice here, tall brownstones with families and kids. A little oasis with a playground, park benches and running paths in the middle of concrete and stone.
It’s the perfect time to be out because hardly anyone else runs at this time in the morning. The few I see are the same people I always see. I don’t know their names, but we nod to each other. Well, I do know the name of one—Malik. He’s a senior at my school and plays guard on the basketball team. We didn’t see each other much during the day, but we’ve seen each other practically every morning for the past year and he hangs out at Miguel’s in the summer teaching the kids to play basketball. It’s the same place he got his start on the courts.
“Hey, Nina,” he says as I enter the park. “Haven’t seen you in a few days and was getting worried.”
“Had to get some stuff settled.” I tell him as I start to stretch.
“I thought maybe you moved or something, since, well…”
“Because I turned 18 and got kicked out of my house.”
“They really kicked you out?”
I told him it would happen, but Malik didn’t want to believe me. Why should he? He’s lived with his mom his entire life and hasn’t had to worry about anyone sending him away. They live in an apartment in one of the brownstones near the park, just like I used to.
“Where you staying? Or, are you staying anywhere? I can ask Mom if you can stay with us.”
I smile at him as my heart warms. He’s such a freaking nice guy, but I’m sure his mom wouldn’t appreciate the offer. The woman has to work two jobs as it is. The last thing she would want is another body in their place taking up the couch.
“Thanks, but Miguel gave me a room.”
Malik relaxes. “He’s a great guy isn’t he?”
“The best.”
“Want to run together today?”
“Nah,
” I answer. “Your legs are twice as long as mine. I’d have to hurry to keep up or you’d have to slow your pace for me.” It’s an exaggeration, but he is taller and would have to adjust his pace for mine.
“I don’t mind,” he says with a grin.
“I do. It’s the middle of the season and not a time for you to go soft.”
Malik just laughs. “Catch you on the other side.” Then he turns and starts down the path.
I’ve never run with anyone on purpose. It’s my alone time to listen to music and just get lost. It would be weird being with someone. I’d feel like I need to talk or something.
After putting my earbuds in, I hit the playlist. I’ve been running to the same music since I started running. The music of my childhood. Once the tape was worn out, I splurged and bought an iPod when they were on special last Christmas and then downloaded all the songs, and a few newer ones. Okay, they aren’t exactly new, not really old, but they are the perfect beat for my pace. Besides, no matter how often I’ve heard the songs, the lyrics still stick with me. Where I’ve been, who I am and where I’m going.
It’s a slow jog when I get back to the starting point because I’m cooling down and on the last song intentionally picked for the end of my run--Don’t Let it Show by Pat Benatar. All of the songs in the lineup are picked for where they fall in my run and I don’t stop until the music is over. And, every single song is sung by Pat Benatar.
Malik is pacing when I get there. I thought he would be done and gone by now.
“That was a long run.”
“Forty-nine minutes and fifteen seconds.” That is exactly how long the music plays.
His dark eyebrows go up in surprise as his jaw drops.
“I don’t run to beat a time or compete against myself. I do it for the stamina and to keep in shape,” I tell him. “I’m thinking of adding more songs to increase my run time.”
“I get that.”
Though I’m not sure he does.
He shoves his hands in the pocket of his hoodie and his breaths are white in the cold morning. I’m not cold yet, but I will be once my body starts to cool and the sweat on my skin starts to match the January temps.
“You got a game coming up?” he asks.
“Not until March.” We start training in February and our season starts a little earlier than most, but we have a lot of girls who like to play, and it’s tough to get everyone in with a shorter season. “You?”
“This weekend,” he answers as we both turn for the entrance of the park.
“Hey, you want to get a cup of coffee or something?”
I look at Malik out of the corner of my eye, not sure what to think. He’s never asked me to do anything in the six years I’ve known him. It’s weird. “Can’t. Gotta get back, shower and then sit at the front counter today.”
He nods. “Okay then. See ya, maybe tomorrow?”
“If the weather holds.” I run in about everything, except ice of course, and since it is January in New York, you never know what the weather is going to be.
At the corner we both turn in opposite directions.
He asked me for a cup of coffee? I’m sure it means nothing, but it’s the first time a guy has asked me if I wanted to do something. Well, guys have asked me if I wanted to do stuff, but it wasn’t coffee.
Malik has never waited for me after a run either. Is something going on with him? Maybe he needs to talk and I just blew him off. First with the run and then the coffee.
I turn around and decide to go after him, but by the time I turn the corner, he’s gone, disappeared.
“Damn, I hope he’s okay.”
Pausing just on the other side of the doors, I gaze in through the glass at the perfection that just walked from the back area.
I don’t know what or who has ruffled her feathers today, but Nina’s frowning as she goes behind the counter and tosses a towel. Right behind her is Ricky. The guy is a cocky jerk who thinks he’s the best thing since sliced bread. He could strut sitting down and he’s been sniffing after Nina for the past year and growing bolder the closer it got to her birthdate. The comments about her not being jailbait anymore have not been sitting well with me, but Nina told me to let it go because he isn’t worth anyone’s effort and less bothersome than a fly. Well, I’d be more than happy to exterminate him from the place.
Ricky and his friend, Tim, think they are boxers. They aren’t and have even less of a chance of making it big than I ever did. Hell, if either one of them would step in the ring with me they wouldn’t even last a round. A number of guys at the gym would like to take them out, but Nina won’t allow them to because she fights her own battles.
The only person who doesn’t know about the shit Ricky and Tim give her is Miguel. If the old man heard half the things these asswipes have said to Horns, they would be kicked out and never allowed back in. But, Nina refuses to say anything because she doesn’t want to go crying to Miguel when someone irritates her. None of the guys will say anything either because they don’t want to piss off Nina.
Ricky reaches out toward Nina and I grab the handle of the door and open it. I’m not sure if it’s me who wants to hit him because my fist has been itching to or if I’m going to protect Ricky from Nina because she’ll lay him out if he puts even a finger on her.
“Don’t even think about it,” she says between clenched teeth.
Ricky holds up his hands and backs off. “You know you want this.” He gestures to his body as if he’s a Greek god or something.
“Can’t imagine I’ll ever be that desperate.” She waves her hand as if she’s shooing a fly away.
Ricky just chuckles. “It’s only a matter of time. I’m gonna so love taming you.”
“When hell freezes over,” she mutters as he walks away.
“Howdy, Horns, I hear we’re roomies,” I greet her with a big smile.
“Hey, Tex. Have fun on vacation?”
Would have been better if you would have been with me. But, of course I don’t say that. “It was as fine as cream gravy.”
She frowns at me, which she often does when I come up with sayings from home. “Did Miguel tell you about Johnny?”
I’m still pissed about that. “If brains were leather, that boy couldn’t saddle a flea.”
She must have understood that saying because she chuckles.
Damn, she has the prettiest smile. I just wish I got to see it a lot more, but Horns doesn’t smile all that much.
I plop my bag on the counter and unzip it. “Got something for you.” Then I pull out the cactus I picked up in the airport. “Merry Christmas, Horns.”
She just stares at it. “You got me a cactus? Why?”
“Saw it at a gift shop at the airport and it reminded me of you.”
“How does that remind you of me?”
They are strong, survive in the desert where nothing else can survive, save rattlesnakes. But they are pretty and some produce the prettiest flowers and others are delicious. Of course, I don’t tell her any of that either. Instead, I just grin bigger. “Because you’re both prickly.”
She gasps as if offended, but I know she’s not. There’s laughter in those soft grey eyes.
“It’s about time you got here,” Miguel barks as he comes in from the back.
“Sorry, Miguel.” I hurry to apologize and grab my duffle. I’m not scared of Miguel but I sure as hell respect him. Besides, he can be a grumbly guy and I bet he’s been very grumbly since Johnny took off. “Plane got delayed in Chicago,” I remind him. “I was stuck burning daylight all afternoon.”
“Well, go put your stuff away and get back down here.” Miguel nods to Horns. “Nina’s been on the desk since the sun came up.”
“Sorry, Horns.” I throw my bag over my shoulder and head down to the door leading to the apartment. “I’ll be back faster than a prairie fire with a tailwind.”
7
It’s a cute little cactus, and I’m so glad it is something he just came across instead of an
actual Christmas present he shopped for. I would have felt like shit if he had gotten me something when I didn’t get anybody anything.
Prickly!
I may be fighting my feelings for Tex, but he sure as hell doesn’t feel the same way. Which is good. I’m sure in time I’ll get over this temporary infatuation because I’m sure that is all it is. And it’s natural. Who wouldn’t like a guy like him? There aren’t nearly enough nice guys in the world. Most of the ones I meet are more like Ricky. They’re bad enough to make me consider going to Mass with Miguel and becoming a nun. Well, I would if there were only Rickys in the world.
Thankfully, there are also a few Texes out there and maybe one day I’ll meet another one who doesn’t think of me as a prickly younger sister, but I want to meet them only after I’ve finished college and gotten my life in order.
“I put calls into the colleges and universities you were looking at.”
My heart skips a beat. I know it’s too late this fall semester, but Miguel thought it would be worth a few phone calls just to see if the teams had their rosters complete.
“Some of the coaches are interested so I emailed them a schedule so they can come see you play.”
“Thank you so much.” I’m touched that Miguel would go to all of that effort for me, but the chance of getting a scholarship, or being chosen to play for any college team this late will be slim to none. The rugby and soccer season is over and the next league won’t start up until spring. I didn’t know until it was too late that I should have been applying before my junior year of high school if I was hoping to get a sports scholarship.
“But…”
There is always a but and I already know what he’s going to say.
“Their teams are filled for next year already.”
What little hope I had left deflates, even though I knew it was already too late.
“Look, Nina, I know you are counting on a sports scholarship to help you out, but what about academics?”
“It’s probably too late to get one of those too, and I don’t have a 4.0.” The kids at my high school were already getting their acceptance letters in September and October and I hadn’t even applied anywhere yet. When I asked my counselor, Mr. Morris, about it, he didn’t think I had planned on going to college because I didn’t have any money or family and was more worried about other things, like where I’d sleep when I turned eighteen.
