eyond Desire Collection

by JS Scott, M Malone, Marie Hall, et al

  I can’t help but glance at his wrists. The skin still looks a little raw, but more pink than red. In time the marks will become a silvery white.

  Noticing where I’m looking, he drops his arms to the table.

  “Trainer?” He sighs. “Yeah, about as well as you’d expect. I’m on a short leash with them. One more screw-up and that’s it.” I could see his tongue rolling along the inside of his cheek.

  I know he’s remembering.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”

  Shrugging, he pours himself some green tea and then offers me some too. I nod, needing to get the repugnant taste of the coffee off my tongue.

  “Don’t worry. I told you, twelve steps. You saw me, can’t take it back now, right?”

  The last comes out full of vicious regret and my heart gives a painful squeeze in my chest.

  “So you know my secrets… What’s yours?” He smiles and I push my empty plate away.

  “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

  His lips quirk. “Thought so. You really are an angel, aren’t you? Sent from above to rescue the hero in distress.”

  I laugh. “Hero in distress? Don’t you mean damsel?”

  “Hell no.” He runs his hand down his chest. “All man here, baby.”

  I snort and drink, and the mellow tea helps calm my suddenly frazzled nerves. This is just supposed to be lunch. Friends going out. Why does it feel bigger now? Like we aren’t really strangers getting ready to become friends, but like we’re so much more, like fate’s been waiting for the right moment to throw us together?

  I don’t like this. Don’t want this.

  “Yeah, well,” I say more frostily than I intend. “Anyway, have to get back to campus.”

  The twinkle in his eyes dims and why the hell should that hurt me?

  This is too much, too soon, too real.

  We pay our bills and leave, the ride back much less relaxed than lunch had been.

  “It was good, thanks,” I mumble, feeling like I at least owe him that. “And I’m sorry about…”

  His jaw works from side to side, but what he says next surprises me. “Go out with me tomorrow.”

  “What?” I blink.

  Please don’t do this, don’t ask me out on a date. Please don’t… I chant it over and over and over to myself, mentally projecting it as powerfully as I can, hoping that somehow I’ve developed psychic abilities since noon.

  Stopping at a red light, he looks at me. The brutal honesty is stark in his face—it’s raw and vulnerable, and I can’t look away, can’t pretend it’s not there.

  “Go out with me. Doesn’t have to be a date. We can go—”

  “I have a son.” I hadn’t meant to say it, but it comes out anyway. Pain flares through my chest and my fingernails dig into my palms, leaving crescent marks behind. “He’s autistic and he’s seven.”

  There, it’s out. Now I can breathe, now I can see the light dim, see his eyes shift around with embarrassment as he pretends he’d never asked me out in the first place. He’ll do the math, realize I’m nothing but a statistic, and that will be that.

  “What’s his name?”

  I still, like he’d just handed me a venomous snake. No one’s ever asked me that before.

  “Javier.” I smile, thinking about him. “He’s beautiful. Has curly black hair and big brown eyes.”

  Ryan nods. A car blares on its horn behind us.

  Jerking, he takes off and I rattle off a strange sound in the back of my throat. Relief, fear, pain… I’m not sure.

  The campus is back in sight. Pulling up to the curb, he stops.

  “Bring him, then.”

  “What?” I know my eyes are wide in my face. Surely I’ve heard him wrong.

  “Bring him,” he says again with a small decisive nod. “That way you know this isn’t a date. Since you don’t seem inclined to go on those.”

  Huffing a laugh, I nod. “I’m sorry, I just haven’t gone on one in years. Pretty much since Javi. The second guys find out, they bail.” I lift my brow in challenge, still expecting him to do what everyone else has.

  He’s lasted longer than any of the others, I’ll give him that at least.

  “Schlitterbahn?”

  I shake my head. “Water parks and Javi are no good. He freaks around water.”

  His lips thin.

  He’s trying, and I don’t want him to think I’m making excuses. “The zoo? He loves the Africa exhibit. It’s not much of a date, but since this isn’t one anyway…”

  “Deal. It’s a non-date. Where you do you want to meet?”

  “You’re new, and Javi sometimes has a hard time with new faces. It might be easier if you came to my house. Would that work?”

  Pulling out his cell, he punches in my name. “What’s your address?”

  I rattle it off, along with my number. “Do you need me to give you directions?”

  Snapping the phone shut, he slips it back into his pocket. “No. You don’t live that far from us.”

  Grabbing the door handle, I sit there for a second, so many words trembling on my tongue. I close my eyes. Am I doing the right thing? Is this right?

  As much as I like Ryan, and I do, he tried to kill himself three months ago. I still don’t know why. The uncertainties are something I shouldn’t even contemplate bringing into Javi’s life. After Dad left, I’ve worked like a fiend to bring stability into our world, order amongst the chaos.

  “It’s not a date, I swear,” Ryan whispers, as if he knows what I’m thinking, and a knot forms in my throat.

  Because that isn’t what I want at all.

  I want a date.

  A real one, with flowers and candy. I want to be swept off my feet and fall madly in love.

  “See you tomorrow, Ryan.”

  “Nine?” he asks.

  I can only nod, refusing to look back, knowing if I do it might bring tears in my eyes.

  ***

  Ryan

  Non-date?

  Why did I agree to that?

  Now it all makes sense. Why Alex stays away. Not because of Liliana, because of the kid.

  I can barely handle myself, how do I honestly expect to get into a relationship with a woman and her child?

  Staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, I count each scar that bisects the planes of my harsh face.

  The one across the bridge of my nose, I got that one when I wasn’t paying attention in my sparring match. Kyle, my partner, had been taunting me. Calling me a pussy and saying my head wasn’t in the game. I guess he was right, because the next thing I knew I was flat on my ass and thinking someone had shoved rebar up my nose. I’d smelled metal and tasted blood. I looked like a freak for the next three weeks.

  There are several small scars along my brow. Again, matches that’d gotten a little wild. Busted my forehead wide open, blood everywhere, so thick in my eyes the ref had to call the match, giving the other guy the win when it was obvious I was the better fighter.

  But it’s like that for me sometimes.

  Not just with fights, sometimes my head just won’t stay where it belongs; my mind will start to wander. I read in a book once that it’s some sort of protective instinct.

  Hell, I don’t know.

  Frowning, I study the smallest scar. On my left cheek, it’s an insignificant puckered thing, minor compared to some of the other bigger ones. In fact, it’s so tiny no one would think it’s the one that marks my soul the most.

  “You ain’t getting any prettier.” Alex’s lazy drawl snaps me from my mood. “Doesn’t matter how many times you look, you’ll always be the ugly ass I know and love.”

  “Why do you always say shit like that, man?” I wipe the steam off the glass.

  “What, that you’re ugly?” He grins, knowing exactly what I meant.

  Rolling my eyes, I put on my deodorant.

  Serious now, he says, “Dude, what the hell are you doing?”

  Hanging my head, staring at the sink as the water cir
cles the drain, I can’t give him an answer, because I don’t have one.

  “You and me, man, we’re so fucked. It’s not fair to her, to her kid. I knew that enough to stay away.”

  I close my eyes, hoping maybe my mind will go away like it sometimes does, that I can check out and not have to listen, hear him tell me exactly what I know to be true.

  Sighing, he shuffles his feet, settling in.

  Damn, he isn’t going anywhere, which means I’m in for a lecture. Living with Alex is worse than living with my mom had ever been.

  “I think about it all the time too, you know.”

  Desperately trying to think about something, anything else, I focus on the one thing in my life that makes any sense.

  The ring.

  Boxing.

  Punching.

  Getting hit.

  Laughing with relief when my skin rips open. It feels so good to know pain—physical pain’s so much easier to deal with. It’s temporary but reassuring, lets me know I’m actually still alive.

  But as much as I try to ignore him, his words keep worming in.

  “I hate him too. What he did to you.”

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  Don’t go there, man. Don’t fucking go there.

  “That I was too much of a godda—”

  There’s no thought, only mindless fury. Blessed black, the yawning chasm of all the shit I’ve buried so deep and it’s coming up and swallowing me. I punch my fist through the glass, splintering it into a thousand slivers.

  “Whatever you think you saw, you didn’t. Got it?” My voice is low, the way it gets when I’m seconds… mere seconds away from completely scaling the wall.

  Alex isn’t fazed at all, his leer is firmly placed, his eyes twin pools of awareness. Like he’s telling me he knows all this smoke I’m blowing is just shit, just the crap I do to hide the truth. And damn him… he’s wrong. Wrong.

  I’m not hiding. I can’t hide it from myself. Never could, it lives with me, breathes down my neck. Anytime I’d start to forget it was there, it would start taunting me, teasing me, telling me it will never leave me alone.

  It’s my only thought, my only companion… the moment of impact, the moment I ceased to be me and became this monster. This loser who’ll never be right again.

  “Yeah, but here’s the thing, dick…” Alex’s voice is cold, not so sensitive, not so caring. “You’re not the only one whose life got ruined that night. Do you have any idea how much I hate myself for not standing up? For lying all these years?”

  Hands clenched into tight balls at my sides, I dare to take a step toward him. “You make me talk about that and I swear to you, I’ll take your head off your neck.”

  The air shivers between us, hotter than a wildfire. This is the brink of war, the beginning of the end; so much can change right now. One word, one wrong move and what we have, it will all be done. Over. The possibility of that dismal future opens up like a tiny fissure before me, waiting for a word or blink to become a full-scale eruption.

  Smiling, he slaps my shoulder. Alex always knows just how far to go and when to pull back. “Nah, man. We’re good. Guess I gotta buy a new mirror tonight. Anyway, all I wanted to tell you is maybe you should stay away from her. Twelve steps… it’s not working, dude. You’ve done it before and I know you’re not better. You still wake me up screaming at night.”

  Turning away from him, I grab the shaving cream and rub it on my face. He isn’t goading me again.

  “She deserves better.”

  “Let me guess, that’s you.” I can’t stop the contempt from pouring out.

  He crosses his arms over his chest. “You obviously don’t listen to a word I say. No. N. O. It’s not me and it’s not you. She deserves a normal, healthy guy. Someone who’ll look after her and the kid. Who can love her. You and me, we’re no good. I’m not gonna stop you, but just know I have my breaking points too, and she’s one of them.”

  “Whatever.”

  Blowing air through his lips, he chuckles. “Yeah, enough of that shit for today. Anyway, you know what I said earlier?”

  “What’s that?” All the muscles in my legs are clenched so tight the first stirrings of cramps grip them, adrenaline pulses through my blood, my head, lies thick on my tongue. He’d almost gone beyond my limits today and he knew it. Counting slowly to ten in my head, I wait to resume shaving until I know I won’t slip and slice through my jugular.

  “I’m secure in my masculinity. When I said I loved you, I meant it. Just thought you should know. And if you ever try to off yourself again, I’m done.”

  I stand at the sink long after he’s left, hypnotized by the water circling the drain and wondering all over again just what the hell I’m doing.

  Chapter Eight

  Liliana

  I can’t seem to stop pacing. Soon I’ll wear a track in mom’s rose-colored shag carpet. My house doesn’t bother me, even though it’s essentially a time capsule of the eighties. There’s shag on the floor, yellowed, peeling wallpaper that at one time had been less cream and more white. A gaudy gold chandelier with crazy spirals that are supposed to be golden leaves sprouting from the center.

  Most of the furniture was from the local Goodwill. The kitchen table’s fine, but one of the chairs is missing a spindle, which means if you don’t sit exactly right the thing will buckle and dump you on the floor.

  But though we’re poor, we aren’t slovenly. On the weekdays, Ade kicks ass making sure our little place gleams and presents a happy, smiling face, even if there are a couple teeth missing. She normally takes the weekends off, and I keep up the cooking and cleaning between homework and Mama-Javi duty. But she’s agreed to stay on today to give Javi and me the morning off.

  I’m not embarrassed, not really. But I’m aware.

  And that really bothers me. Why do I care what Ryan thinks of my home? This is me—poor, but not helpless. Besides, this isn’t a date. So in the end it doesn’t really matter.

  Maybe if I keep telling myself that I’ll eventually make the queasy knot in my gut go away.

  “Mija.” My mother tracks my movements with her eyes. “You’re making me dizzy. Sit.” She points her fingers at the couch.

  Ade’s drinking milk tea and munching on a torta at the table, a small smile curving her lips.

  Tossing my hands to the side, I plop down on the couch. It’s ten minutes ’til he’s supposed to get here.

  Javier’s sitting next to Mama’s wheelchair, flipping slowly through another one of his books. Today was a good day for him. He hasn’t had a rage; actually they’re coming less and less. So long as he has his comics handy, he’s behaving. Even the school noticed—they sent me a report yesterday. The first good one I’ve gotten for him in a while.

  It shouldn’t, but it gives me hope that maybe things are finally starting to look up.

  Mama’s hand returns to her armrest, her fingers resting casually beside Javi’s face. She isn’t touching him, but it’s as close as he’ll ever allow.

  My heart clenches. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”

  “Mija, no…” My mother shakes her head. “Why would you say that?”

  Adelida stands, dusting crumbs off her green day dress before waddling slowly over to me. “You cannot protect him from the world, Lili. Javi is getting much better every day.”

  But it isn’t just Javi that’s bothering me. Yes, bringing a man into the picture is definitely something that weighs heavy on me, friend or not, but I’m not sure I even know how to be a guy’s friend anymore.

  I’ve spent the last seven years keeping all of them at a distance. Even Alex, who I like a lot.

  “Yeah, but, I don’t know how to do this. How to be friends with a man.”

  Ade and Mama exchange glances. Mama’s face creases with a frown, Ade’s with worried patience. Grabbing my hand and pulling it to her lap, Ade pats it.

  “You yourself said this is not a date, correct?”

  I nibble on the corner of my thumbnai
l. “Yeah.”

  “Well, then?” She shrugs large shoulders. “Why turn this into something it’s not? Go out, enjoy yourself. You know Javi will have a good time and just don’t think too hard.”

  My mother butts in. “Yes, mami.” Her brown eyes are so large and full of warmth and tears burn my throat. “Not all men are your father.”

  She’d always had an uncanny way of stripping away pretense and getting right to the root of a matter.

  I can’t look her in the eye; I’ve never told her the truth about Ryan. I’d come home that night and promised to keep it all to myself. It’d been easy to sneak into the house, change out of my soiled clothes, and throw them away. She knew I was visiting the hospital, but I didn’t tell her why or for whom. As if a part of me felt that moment belonged to him and me alone.

  What would she think if she knew I was going out with a man who’d slit his wrists and nearly died three months ago? They wouldn’t be telling me to calm down, that’s for sure; they’d be urging me to run as fast and far away as possible.

  A part of me already knows that. That I should run, that I shouldn’t pass go and shouldn’t collect two hundred. This isn’t my most brilliant idea, but something about Ryan nags at me, tells me going down this road will lead only to heartache in the end. That he’s one thing in my life I shouldn’t try to save.

  All my life I’ve been fascinated by the weak and helpless. Twice, I’d found chicks on the ground in front of me, ugly little things. Naked, red, hardly any feathers and peeping for food. I’d tried to nurse them back to health. Both times, I’d failed, and it’d torn my heart in two.

  Because of that I’m training to become a nurse. I need to help, to try to save. And Ryan needs saving.

  Knocking on the door startles me from my thoughts. Eyes going wide, I look at my mom with a silent plea.

  But it’s Ade who stands and opens the door.

  “Hello.”

  His deep, whiskey-smooth voice does strange things to me. Pulls and tugs at emotions I’ve thought long dead. Nerves assault my body, make my fingertips go cold and my breath hitch, and I have to be honest… maybe I’m not being completely altruistic with this thing either.

  I don’t want to be, but I’m very attracted to the man.