Hydraulic Level Five

by Sarah Latchaw

  My eyes fluttered shut. He’d only been a baby.

  He continued, voice a detached whisper. “I remember her crying every night when she was home, the waterbed sloshing each time she turned. Sometimes she came into my room when she thought I was asleep and lay down with me. I learned quickly to pretend I wasn’t awake, or she’d get angry and yell. It was the strange little things which set her off—things that seemed like nothing, but were significant to her. Like my asking to visit Fenway Park to see the Red Sox.”

  “How did she die?”

  “I think you know.”

  “Did your mother take her own life?” I asked carefully.

  “Both of my parents did.”

  Both? I hadn’t seen that one coming. I gaped like a fish, trying to form words.

  “I don’t remember my father—he died when I was a baby. My mother died just before I came to Lyons.”

  “I met you at the Halloween party. You told me your mother was taking you trick-or-treating.”

  His face was all raw reminiscence. “She packed me into her car and we drove to a hotel near Fenway Park. Before we left, she tucked a letter for Alonso in my backpack, asking him to keep me instead of her parents. She checked us in, requested a top floor balcony, and jumped.”

  I bolted upright. My eyes flew to Samuel’s, though he wouldn’t meet them. “She jumped from the balcony?” I asked incredulously. “With her six-year-old son in the room?” Oh dear God, the things he must have seen. The aftermath…I covered my mouth to hide my gagging.

  “For years, I convinced myself she’d accidentally fallen over the wall. But as I grew older and realized such a thing as suicide existed, I understood.”

  My fingers weaved through my loosely pinned hair, tugging bobby pins free. “Oh my God, Samuel. I can’t believe…” I stumbled around for a way to finish my sentence, but there was nothing. A foggy memory from long ago clarified in my head, and I gasped.

  “When we were little,” I said, “I remember your greatest fear was falling from high places. Alonso and Sofia took us to the national park to climb up a five-story look-out tower and see the tops of the trees. You screamed bloody murder the whole way up the stairs, and finally Sofia had to carry you back down.” I drew in a deep breath, my arms wrapping around my middle. “I get it now.”

  He touched my knee. “I grew out of it, Kaye. Do you think I’d go skydiving if I hadn’t?” He offered me a faint smile. “Figuring out my mother’s death wasn’t an accident helped, in some respects. I didn’t walk around terrified of open windows, anyway.” He paused, his voice trailing lower, quieter. “It also taught me to cherish and protect the people I love, though I know I’ve done a disgraceful job at it.”

  He’d been such a brave, sad little boy in that ghost costume. So quiet, so well-behaved.

  And, I now understood, so traumatized.

  I gazed at him, tenderly placed my palm against his face. I noticed it was slightly less clammy. “Why did she do it? Why did they both do it?”

  “No one knows, though Dad and I have speculated. Neither was ever diagnosed with anything. But in retrospect, it’s apparent they were sick. I think, maybe, that’s why they fell in love to begin with. They must have recognized themselves in each other…fed off each other.” His trembling hand rested on top of mine.

  “Symbiosis.”

  “Symbiosis.”

  My fingers curled around his, willing him to hear me. “Samuel, we are not your mother and father. I’m not, and neither are you.”

  “Am I not?”

  “No, you’re not.” I said adamantly.

  “If you say so.”

  “I say so.”

  He closed his eyes and sighed, threading his fingers through mine. “Kaye, please, no more tonight. My sister just got married. Let’s just be happy for her and Angel.”

  I relaxed my grip on his hand, willing to let the rest go…for now. Relief flooded his eyes as he realized I wouldn’t force the issue further tonight.

  “When are you flying back to New York?” I asked after several minutes.

  “Tomorrow morning.”

  I grimaced, dreading that goodbye. We didn’t have much time. “Can you meet me tonight, after the reception? I know you need sleep, but you can sleep tomorrow away after you board the plane, can’t you? Oh shoot!” I slapped my forehead. “You have to drive to Denver, don’t you? Never mind, get some sleep.”

  “It’ll be fine, Caroline’s driving. What do you have in mind?”

  I hesitated, but he insisted. “Bring the letter.” I pointed to the crumpled piece of paper he’d dropped in his lap. “We’re going to talk about it. And then we’re going to get rid of it, once and for all. It’s killing us, Samuel. We need to let this rest in the past.”

  “Okay.” His voice was tentative.

  I drummed my fingers on his knees, trying to lighten the atmosphere. “I also had an epiphany while Angel and Danita exchanged vows today.”

  “I noticed.” He smiled a bit, for real this time.

  “I’ll share my idea later. I think it will help us.”

  We sat for long minutes, perhaps even an hour, simply absorbing each other’s pain, driving it away. We shared the small things we’d learned in the time we’d been separated: I’d tried sushi for the first time and actually liked it. Samuel had given Legends of the Fall another go and still hated it. We discussed philosophy—I now thought that truth really wasn’t as relative as postmodern society believed. Samuel agreed, saying we had to have some sort of basis for reality. I admitted his big brain sometimes made me feel less smart. He admitted he envied my risk-taking, even if it made him worry.

  Something momentous was shifting…Rather than guarding our Achilles’ heels, we exposed them to each other, so very slowly, while shielding each other’s weaknesses.

  A set of feet tromped down the hall and jiggled the handle. The door opened a crack as a hand clutching a champagne bottle sluggishly pushed it open. Cassady popped in his shaggy head inside. His jacket was long gone, and his tie hung loosely around an unbuttoned collar and rolled-up sleeves. One of Danita’s lacy garters circled his bicep. He cursed as he sloshed champagne on the floor and immediately shut the door.

  “Sssorry, gunnars,” he called to the closed door. “We’ll jus’ go upstairs. Sssorry.”

  I snickered. “It looks like Cassady won the garter toss. I suppose that means I missed the bouquet toss, too.”

  Samuel checked his watch and whistled. “Nine forty. We’ve been in here way too long.”

  I groaned as I shook the numbness out of my feet and tailbone. Pushing myself up from his knees, I held out a hand and helped him to his feet. We brushed our backsides and took deep breaths.

  “Are you ready to return to reality?” I asked.

  “Only if you are.” He tried out a full smile. “The quiet is nice. I felt like I was leaping from circus ring to circus ring out there.”

  I reached for the door, but Samuel’s arm came out, halting me. He wrapped his long fingers around my wrist, pulling me to him. One arm secure around my waist, he peered down at me.

  “I don’t need your pity,” he said gently, firmly.

  “I know.” I smoothed my hand over his finger-raked hair.

  “I’m a grown man, Kaye—not that little boy anymore.”

  “But it doesn’t mean I can’t feel pain for that little boy. Or that I love him any less,” I quietly added.

  He shook his head and kissed a drop from the corner of my mouth. I hadn’t even realized I was crying. “I wish…”

  He didn’t finish his thought. There were so many ways to finish it, and he probably couldn’t decide on one. His palm cupped the back of my head and he pressed me to him, kissing my hair once, twice. “I guess I wasn’t quite ready to let you go,” he said sheepishly and released me.

  We walked up the hallway, the ruckus of the caterers in the kitchen having died down now that dinner was well behind us. As we passed the pantry, I heard a soft, feminine wh
imper.

  I paused, tugging on Samuel’s sleeve. There it was again.

  My eyes widened. I tried the knob—the door didn’t open. Was someone locked in?

  “Hello?” I called, rapping on the heavy oak door. “Are you okay in there?”

  There was a deeper moan and a giggle, followed by a flurry of rustling clothing and muffled cursing. I began to panic.

  Samuel snorted.

  I glared at him, baffled. Only then did I notice Cassady’s champagne bottle and black tie on the rug next to the closed door. The bride’s throw bouquet was propped up against the floor board, as well.

  And then it hit me. Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. There was a reason the door was locked. Stupidly, I knocked again.

  “Ahh, never mind! Forget I even knocked the first time! Go back to…whatever.”

  A full-out laugh burst from Samuel. I poked him in the ribs, completely mortified. Dragging him behind me, we escaped the Cabral house before the pantry occupants emerged.

  “You know who was in the pantry?” He lifted an eyebrow at me.

  My lips twisted. “I have a hunch. Now we know who won the bouquet toss, too.”

  As we re-entered the party, Samuel placed a hand on the small of my back and steered me toward the dance floor. The mariachis pounded out a samba and dozens of guests shuffled and grinded to the steamy number. Even Hector was out there, his collar popped as his hips swayed to the music. I quickly scanned the crowd for Caroline, but didn’t see her.

  Once I realized Samuel was actually dragging me onto the dance floor, I did an about-face and retreated. But he caught my elbow, every inch of him sparking with naughtiness.

  “Oh no,” he laughed, lifting my waist. “You have gotten away with this ‘I can’t samba’ garbage far too long.”

  I squealed and kicked as he plopped me down next to Angel and Danita. Danita shamelessly high-fived him.

  “Samuel, you know I can’t dance to this stuff. Slow dance, yes. Rock even. Latin, no.”

  “Be good or I’ll carry you off to the pantry.” He placed his hands on my taffeta-clad hips and moved them with his, careful to leave a bit of space between us despite his pantry threat. He wasn’t going to push his luck. “You don’t seem to be having a difficult time dancing, Trilby. In fact, you’re pretty good at it.”

  “Say that when your toes are broken, Cabral.” I scowled, but let myself go a little. His eyes flashed with approval.

  Before long, I partied with Angel and Danita, thoroughly enjoying the beats pulsing from the stage. I turned under Samuel’s hands and tipped my head back against his shoulder. White lights spun over my head, warm halos hitting the stark night sky. A cooling breeze brushed my skin and carried the faint smell of pine onto the dance floor.

  “See?” he whispered into my hair. “Not so scary. It’s just music, Kaye.”

  I laughed again, reveling in the place, the night, my friends, Samuel. I saw Cassady and Molly sneak across the lawn toward the dance floor, his arm flung around her long torso. Her hair was a sexed-up mess and she winked at me, conveying what I already knew. I hoped he wouldn’t break her heart.

  In my periphery, Hector and Santiago bickered, Hector vainly trying to convince his brother that his “sultry” dance moves weren’t all that smooth. Even my own parents were being civil to each other, the two of them and Audrey sitting at a table, chatting over drinks as they watched us dance.

  And somehow, all of it faded to the background as my best friend’s arms circled my waist. I felt the muscles of his stomach beneath starched cotton. Smelled his sweat as it crept to the surface of his skin. His breath tickled the nape of my neck, and it reminded me of making love to him, so much. Too much. It reminded him, too. A familiar warmth pressed into my back, the space between us forgotten. My lips curled and I felt a bit of the seductress return to my bones.

  The song ground to a close and another one started, slower. I turned in Samuel’s arms as the band strummed out sweet contemporary strains.

  He gently pressed his fingers into my back, urging me closer…I rested my cheek on the lapel of his tuxedo vest.

  “You know what I mean when I tell you I want you, right?” he murmured.

  He took my hand in his and held it against his chest…I let my other hand creep up his neck, into his hair.

  “It’s kind of hard to miss,” I teased, leaning into his body.

  He chuckled and trailed a hand up my spine, all the way to my neck…I allowed him to play with the ringlets on my head.

  For years and years, we’d spoken those three little words to each other. An innocent “I love you, I’m sorry” after playing too rough as children. A quick “love ya” as we flew past lockers on our way to class. A sad “love you so much” as he left for college, leaving me in Lyons. So many meanings, that saying “I love you” became common—like hello and goodbye.

  I’d never doubted our friendship love. But Samuel telling me he wanted me…I hadn’t heard it much from him, in the past. We’d shown it, we just didn’t say it. And when our marriage ended, it left me wondering whether I’d been the only one who’d truly felt it.

  But he had. He still did.

  “You are glowing tonight. Lovely.”

  I brought my eyes to his and returned the smile. “So are you.”

  Samuel moved me around the dance floor. I knew people watched, talking about the exes. I didn’t care. My face burrowed into his neck, breasts brushing lightly against his chest. A wave of nostalgia washed over me as I inhaled his faint cologne. Spicy cardamom, juniper, and cedar. He still wore the same scent, even so many years later. Despite the changes in him—clothing preferences, grown-up confidence, the ability to work a room—the recognizable little things reminded me that he was still Samuel.

  Had he known I’d wanted him too, back then? How often had I told Samuel I desired him? I needed him? I bit my lip, searching my memories for one occasion when I’d shared those words, confessed how good he made me feel.

  I couldn’t think of a one. For all he knew, I’d only loved him as a friend. I had begged for his last name, but never explained why. Not telling him was a costly mistake on my part, and I would have given anything to go back to the years we were together and tell him, every single day, that I wanted him too. But mulling over “woulda coulda shouldas” didn’t fix a thing. The past was just upstream driftwood, out of reach. The present, though, still sloshed against my trailing fingers.

  “Welcome home.” I kissed his neck—a promise—and wiped away the trace of lipstick I’d left there.

  His entire body sighed.

  With a final flourish, the song ended.

  As the music died away, I felt eyes on me, yanking us down from our high. Samuel held me to him a moment longer, his lips brushing my hairline so subtly, it might seem unintentional to anyone watching. And then he let me go. Disappointment surged through me as he hurriedly kissed my cheek, thanking me.

  Before I could gather the courage to ask him for another dance, one of Angel’s enthusiastic teenage cousins claimed him. Samuel relented, and I made my way to the back table where I’d left my wrap and hour-old champagne. The corner was partly obscured by shadows, so I didn’t see anybody sitting there until it was too late.

  Caroline Ortega glared up at me, onyx eyes two pinpoints of hate.

  She was crying.

  I nervously grabbed for my champagne flute, hoping to clear out as quickly as possible. But in true disastrous timing, my hand missed the glass and sent it clattering across the table, spilling sticky champagne down the front of Caroline’s designer jacquard dress.

  “Frickin’ swizzle-stick.” I picked up a pink linen and stopped short of dabbing Caroline’s dress. She swiped the napkin from me and brushed the material, then her eyes. Once she finished, she tossed the thing on the table and rounded on me.

  “You did that on purpose.”

  I thrust out my hands. “Look here, if I’d wanted to spill champagne all over you, I would have picked the thing up
and dumped it on your head.”

  “No. What you are doing is worse, and you know it.”

  “I haven’t a clue what you mean.” I busied myself by mopping up the table with the pink linen.

  “Samuel. You’re playing with him. Instead of cutting him loose like an amicable ex-wife to let him live his life, you string him along.”

  “Bull.”

  “Is it? You’ve dangled Hector Valdez in front of him since you were kids and when he reacts to it, you berate him for it, don’t you?”

  “No! Hector and Samuel are my friends—nothing more.” My fingers tightened around the cloth napkin.

  “There’s no point in lying, it’s written all over your face. You can’t have it both ways, you know. ‘Friends with benefits’ never works.”

  My fists dug into my hips. “Hey, let’s calm down, okay? I’m sorry you’re upset, but it’s not my fault Samuel doesn’t want to date you, Caroline. You have no right to take your bitterness out on me.”

  “I have every right to despise you. It drives you insane that I know him better than you do, now, doesn’t it?”

  “And yet, he still wants me.” I chucked the champagne-dampened linen on the table. The woman just could not keep her mouth shut, could she?

  “So what are you going to do when he’s back in your arms? Destroy him again when you realize you don’t want the real him?”

  “You don’t know the first thing about me, so back off.” Grabbing my empty champagne flute, I stalked away from the table, weaving my way toward the bar. But Caroline jumped up and stalked after me.

  “Don’t I? Apparently it isn’t enough that he’s been hung up on you for seven miserable years. You want him to be miserable for the rest of his life. You just couldn’t stand to see him move on with someone else, could you?”

  Tears stung my eyes. I jabbed a finger at her. “I can’t stand that the woman is a selfish, manipulative harpy.”