by JD Hawkins
My heart pounds, every fiber of my being arguing against rationality, urging me to hit him. I close my eyes, and only then can I pull back, let him go and turn around to walk away.
That’s when I see Ash standing there. Right in the doorway. Her hands over her mouth, her eyes large, deep brown pools of shock.
“Ash,” I say, suddenly feeling like I’m running out of air. How much of that did she hear?
I step toward her and she backs away as if frightened. Hands going in front of her, showing me her palms. My heart breaks as with every step I take, Ash flinches back.
“Don’t come near me!” she says, looking at me like I’m some kind of monster.
“Ash! Listen! If you’d heard what he said just a minute ago you’d understand! He was threatening my business! Threatening us!”
“Stay away from me, please,” Ash says, through hitched breath, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Listen to her, Teo,” her father says. I try to stop myself from gritting my teeth and flashing hatred at his voice, but my emotions are too close to the skin now.
“He’s the reason we’re not together, Ash! It’s because of him! The thing that—”
“Just go!” Ash screams suddenly, loud enough to be heard throughout the house, to bring others peeking in beyond the open door.
The hurt and distress in her voice is too unbearable. It hits me too deep to even try and explain. I don’t ever want to be the man who makes her sound like that—and if that means leaving her like she’s asking me to, I’ll do it. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“I’m going,” I say, stepping toward the door.
I step outside and push through the crowd that’s gathered, glancing back despite myself one more time. Ash is crying into her father’s chest, his arm wrapped protectively around her. His eyes look straight at me, his gaze hard and victorious. Again.
17
Ash
Work is the last place I need to be right now, but it’s where I am. When I turned up this morning I kinda hoped that the dull routine and formulaic segments would numb the turmoil and shock inside, but they don’t. My nerves are brittle, my patience shorter than a grenade pin, and I keep having to take bathroom breaks where I breathe deep in order to get through the next hour-long chunk of time. I end up working through lunch, gritting my teeth through Carlos’ request for his ‘lucky’ red shirt, and order a double-helping of tacos to the office.
Jenny steps inside as I’m wiping up my crumbs, and it’s the first bright spot in my day. So much so that I want to clutch at her like a life raft. I smile, but when I see her miserable expression my heart sinks again.
“Just in time,” I say, pushing the leftover tacos across my desk. “You hungry? They’re still hot.”
Jenny steps to the desk, all slumped shoulders and downturned lips, then drops herself in the chair as if her strings have been cut.
“I didn’t pass the audition.”
“Oh, Jenny,” I say, getting up to move around and hug her in the chair.
“They said I gave off too much of an ‘intellectual’ vibe. Said they wanted something a little more fun and smiley. Probably just wanted a girl who showed more skin.”
“Intellectual is great,” I say meekly, grasping.
Jenny rolls her eyes at me and then spots the chips and guac, digging in and holding the chip in front of her mouth.
“They’re casting agents—they’re good at letting you down gently,” she says, then crunches mercilessly on the guacamole-laden tortilla chip.
“It’s just one audition,” I say. “It always takes a little time.”
“No,” Jenny says, pausing to swallow. “They’re right. Look at me. Unless there’s a shortage of ‘hipster schoolteacher’ roles, I’m not getting anything anytime soon. That’s what spending half your life in the writers’ room gets you.”
“Bullshit,” I say adamantly, lowering my face to catch her eye. “You look like—and are—a creative, witty, charismatic woman. And there aren’t so many casting agents you can see before you find one with half a brain to appreciate what you’ve got.”
Jenny chomps on another handful of chips and then allows herself the tiniest of smiles.
“Thanks,” she says. “You mind recording that so I can play it back to myself later?”
I shove her playfully and go back around to my side of the desk.
“How are things with you?” Jenny asks, the taco box in her lap now. “I saw you stomping around in the studio earlier looking like you were going to murder someone. Carlos winding you up again?”
I nod slowly, then sigh.
“Part Carlos, part finding out my boyfriend is a psycho.”
Jenny stops mid-bite, frozen with the steak taco halfway in her mouth to glare at me over it. I decide to tell her the details rather than have her mess up that knitted shawl.
“I took him to a barbecue at my sister’s place. Kind of fancy, and he didn’t want to go. My dad was there, and he wanted to talk to Teo, so they went back into the study—you know, a little ‘boys’ time.’ After a while I went to go get him, but when I get there…God, Jenny. Teo was standing there in my father’s face, grabbing his shirt, fist pulled back like he’s about to punch him. I’ve never seen him like that before.”
Jenny struggles to drop her jaw and not spill food at the same time. She hurriedly swallows and wipes her mouth before setting the taco down—more interested in asking questions than a second bite now.
“What the hell?”
“Yep.”
“What happened? Why would he do that?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. My dad said he was asking Teo some questions about his business, and Teo flipped the fuck out.”
Jenny exhales and scrunches her face incredulously.
“You believe him? I mean, you think he told you the whole story?”
“My dad?” I say, looking at Jenny with shock for asking. “Of course I believe him. I know what I saw. And yeah, I mean, he can be a little pushy sometimes, and maybe he said something shitty, but even so—who the hell does that? Assault the parent of a girl you’re dating as soon as you meet them? It’s just insane. I can’t even process it. There’s no excuse.”
Jenny gives me a pained expression, and I know she can barely think of what to say.
“I’m sorry, Ash.”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “Me too.”
“I guess it’s over then.”
I nod.
“Absolutely. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if Teo doesn’t think so.”
When I finish work, Teo proves me right. He’s waiting for me outside in the parking lot. I step through the exit, see him, and immediately harden my expression, redirect myself toward my car and around him.
“Ash! Wait, please,” he says, jogging up beside me, but smartly keeping a little distance between us.
“If I wanted to talk to you I would have answered one of the many phone calls, or responded to one of the many, many texts.” I glance at him across my shoulder, if only to emphasize my point with the firmness of my eyes. “I don’t want to talk.”
“I understand,” he says, backing up to stay a little in front of me, in my field of vision, “but if you’d just let me explain—”
“There’s nothing to explain,” I say, stopping suddenly to direct the full force of my frustration at him. “Raising a fist to my father? What was that? Some kind of ‘macho alpha male’ crap? I don’t even want to hear it. Some things are beyond excuses, Teo. I’m done.”
I start walking again, and he continues trying to stay in my field of view.
“Your father isn’t everything he seems, Ash. If we could just sit down somewhere, if you could give me five minutes—”
I stop again to glare at him.
“Are you seriously trying to blame this on my father?”
“He threatened my business! And us. He threatened to cut you off if—”
“My father isn’t perfect,” I interrupt. “Yes, he�
�s overprotective. Yes he can be a little too controlling at times. And yes he’s a little hard on my boyfriends. But none of those things—I repeat, none—justify being physically assaulted like that in his own home!”
I continue walking, even faster this time. I click my car lock paces away.
“I know it was stupid of me, and I’m sorry, Ash,” Teo pleads. “I lost my shit, let my temper get the best of me, and I shouldn’t have. But he was trying to come between us, he always was—”
“Bullshit,” I say, as I yank my door open. “Actions speak louder than words, Teo. And the truth is that every time I think I actually know you, every time I think we have something steady together, you go ahead and do the one thing I thought you never could. Disappearing overnight without a word, refusing to show up for me the way I show up for you, and then threatening my family—”
“I love you, Ash,” he interrupts.
For a moment I just stare at him, and then I shake my head. “I know you do. But this isn’t gonna work, Teo. Nothing you can do, or say, will fix this.”
I slide into the driver’s seat and close the door just as he calls my name one more time, a desperate plea drowned out by the slam.
I don’t look back as I drive away. I don’t need to. I’ve got enough practice seeing him for what I think is the last time.
18
Teo
The ride home might be the loneliest I’ve felt in a life of almost complete loneliness. Ash haunts me all the way, my mind blank, my body feeling twisted and sick. I feel her hands on my chest, her face against my back, as if my body is yearning for it now that I know I’ll never feel it again.
I take a long route home, so I can ride fast enough to feel like I’m leaving it all behind, so I don’t have to go back to the condo that’ll just remind me of her. A place I’ll forever think of as missing her. An empty, barely-furnished home that needed someone like her, that someone like Ash could’ve turned into a place that meant something. A place that’ll never be a home now.
Along the freeways and the winding canyon roads I see her still, suspended before me. That confused, upset face. Those beautiful features I saw a future in, the face that gave meaning to everything, set a purpose in my chest and a fire in my blood. My last memory of it will be warped, tainted, by how disappointed and angrily it looked at me. I see my future now. A million nights dreaming of her like that, a thousand evenings of wondering how I could have done better, regretting what she saw in that one awful moment.
It hurt to leave things between us like that, to talk to her like that. Her mind so made up I couldn’t explain anything. I’ve spent a lifetime running from explanations, and now that I finally realize that only the truth could fix something—my chance is gone.
Maybe it’s for the best. A small part of me still thinks her father was right. Sure, I have a business and a house now—but what if something happened? What if he actually took it all away from me, or if bad luck or fate destroyed everything I’ve built? Then what? Would I go back to doing day labor? Would I turn into dead weight that Ash had to struggle even harder at her job to support? Maybe my ‘bad genes’ would pull me back to the other side of the law, for the quick and easy money. That same instinct that raised a fist when I should have stayed calm and steady. Maybe I’d have to start skipping state lines again, sniffing out work, some cash, the next oasis of brief security, like some stray dog—only this time, Ash would be dragged down right alongside me. Maybe that big, complicated past would start emerging from the swamp to pull me back under. Maybe the world is right, and a guy like me is destined for just one thing: Trouble.
I love Ash. And I’m sure she loves me. But one of us had to make a sacrifice. Either she gave up her family, her safety net, the certainty of knowing life will never get too hard, or I give her up and go back to the way my life used to be. There’s no contest. Ash is the better of the two of us, and she deserves so much more than I can give her.
I tell myself all of these things, knowing that I’ll tell them to myself over and over for the rest of my life, staring into empty whiskey glasses. By the time I get home I’m ready to order the biggest pizza I can, draw the curtains, put on the saddest records I can find and start drinking everything in the house.
I bring the bike to a stop outside my garage door and kill the engine, then pause for a second. Something’s wrong. Something beyond the aching hole inside of me.
I concentrate for a while, listening out for the sound again, then move slowly toward the door of my place. The door’s misaligned, ever so slightly ajar. I step carefully, until I can see the wood splintered around the lock, the lock itself jutting inward. This close, I can hear the blare of the TV inside—immediately realizing that whoever’s in there (or was in there) was drowning out the noise of their breaking and entering.
Within seconds I’ve gone back to my bike, quietly pulled out the large wrench I keep in the pack, and then returned to the door, back against the wall as I peer between the crack, looking for movement.
I take my time, listening for anything that isn’t the TV, then slowly push the door open, wrench held up in my other hand, muscles tensed and ready to fight. Soon I’ve got the door open enough to see inside to the living room, the TV screen, and the head of someone sitting on my couch. As slow as I can, my boots not making a sound, I step inside, and then…the tenseness drains out of me when I realize.
It’s my dad.
“Hey, Son!” he says, as I step inside his field of view. “About Goddamned time!”
My dad’s a big guy. Some people used to call him ‘Monster.’ Two hundred and fifty pounds of gnarled muscle wrapped in scar-hardened skin. A grey beard rough enough to sweep floors and lank, grey hair frame his permanently scowling eyes, as blue as mine but twice as cold. Over his dirty white tee he’s wearing a black biker jacket with the arms ripped off that looks like it’s seen as much hell as he has. Scuffed and grimy jeans over his combat boots, perched up on my coffee table. Several empty beers sit on the floor beside the couch, and a bulging green sports bag kept close under his legs.
“The hell are you doing here?” I blurt out, stunned.
“Where else am I gonna go? I must have been to that tattoo place three Goddamned times looking for you, but you weren’t there. You ever work these days?”
“So you come here? You break my fucking door? How did you even find my place?”
“Don’t be like that, Teo. I’ve been sleeping rough the past few days.” His mood changes on a dime, eyes going angry like he’s ready to strangle me. “Where the fuck were you, anyway? What kind of son doesn’t pick up his old man after a four-year stretch?”
The whole thing is so surreal I feel almost woozy, half drunk from the sheer insanity of how shitty this day is turning out. Belatedly, I toss the wrench onto the couch beside him and drop my tired body down onto the chair. I grab the remote and turn down the TV, then settle back and breathe a little.
“I never said I’d pick you up,” I say. “I was busy, anyway.”
“Sure, sure…” my dad says, his voice knowing.
“You can’t stay here,” I say, as he empties his fifth beer.
“Why not? You got roommates?”
“No. This isn’t a rental. I own it.”
He’s surprised now, putting the beer down and leaning forward to look around at the apartment anew.
“Well Goddamn…if I’d known that, I’d have been real gentle on the door. Pretty nice.” He turns to look at me with a kind of vindictive blame. “You’ve done alright for yourself all around, it looks like.”
“What do you know about it?” I say, dismissively.
“That tattoo place—real nice. Looks legit.” He moves his head toward me, eyes conspiratorial. “What you using it for? Drugs, right? Got to be, kind of money you need for a place like this.”
“It’s not a front,” I say, rubbing my eyes, already tired of his bullshit, but anticipating a whole load more before I get rid of him. “It’s a legit bus
iness.”
He laughs and shakes his head.
“Sure, sure…”
After a minute, I pull my wallet out and start counting bills.
“I’ll give you some money,” I say. “Go stay at a hotel. If you’re sober in a week, maybe we can talk.”
He doesn’t even look at the money.
“You want me outta here, huh?” he says, smiling darkly, then tilting his head. “Your girlfriend coming over tonight?” He sees the tension in my eyes and seizes on it. “Running around with that Carter girl again. What was her name again, Ashley?”
“How the fuck do you know that?”
He sits back as if relaxed now.
“I saw you, picking her up outside your ‘legit business.’ She grew up real nice. Don’t blame you for looking her up again.”
I toss the bills on the coffee table beside his feet.
“Take the money and get out.”
He ignores the money though, his eyes continuing to scrutinize me.
“What are you doing with a girl like that, Son? She’ll chew you up and spit you out the second she’s done having fun. Find herself one of those New York bankers and before you know it she’ll have you out on your ass.”
“Ten minutes out of jail and you’re already taking the high ground, huh?”
He laughs and searches around the couch for another unopened beer, raising it to me in a mock toast before cracking it open.
“Listen to me, Teo. People like that don’t give a fuck about people like us. The sooner you get that through your thick skull, the better off you’ll be.”
“What do you mean, ‘people like us’?”
He looks at me with narrowed eyes, as if trying to figure out whether it’s a serious question.
“Shit…” he says, shaking his head. “You’re really full of it now, ain’t you, Son? You got you a little place and a little money putting gang tags on people and now you think you’re a member of ‘high society.’ System don’t work like that, take it from your old man.”
