Claiming Carlos

by Rachelle Ayala

  “Oh, shit.” She blinks, her lips trembling. “He’s been here.”

  There’s a photo of Steve wearing a black bandana covered in dust. His eyes are dark, but vacant. The face stoic, still, without any life. The caption reads: Love is letting go. No present. No future. No more goodbyes.

  “It can’t be true. Someone hacked his account. I don’t believe it.” She moves to the message screen and starts thumbing a message.

  I grab her arm. “Let’s not be hasty.”

  “I’m not going to believe it unless he Skypes me and tells me to my face.” She throws the phone on the floor and bursts into tears.

  “This was a bad idea.” I wrap her in my arms. “Remember what we talked about? How you should vow not to think about him or stalk him? This entire thing with Carlos is going to hurt you more at the end.”

  “I’ll never get over Steve, never, never, never.” She tears her hair and flops herself on the sofa. “Carlos lied to me. He said it’ll work. He said no man in his right mind would give up on me, that I’m so pretty and smart. I’m a nurse too. I can take care of him if he’s ever wounded. I’ll love him forever.”

  “It’s for the better, seriously.” I hustle to her kitchen. “Want some hot chocolate? Apple juice? How about herbal tea?”

  She doesn’t answer. Instead she calls someone on her phone.

  “Carlos?” she says. “Steve’s not coming for me. What should we do?”

  Oh, shit. I don’t want to hear this. He’s going to tell her the fake engagement’s over. It’ll send her into an emotional tailspin.

  My fingers shaking, I pour a third of a cup of bittersweet chocolate chips into a mug and fill it with milk. Julia likes her chocolate spicy, so I add a pinch of cayenne and stick the mug into the microwave.

  She’s still on the phone. “Why don’t we get married today? That’ll show him what he lost.”

  I can’t hear what Carlos says, but Julia replies, “You’re right. Our parents should be here. Let me call them.”

  What? Is Carlos weaseling out and going along with this?

  “Let’s go to County Clerk’s office and apply for a license … No, no, they don’t need blood tests anymore … I already have a dress … It’s okay, I don’t need a ring.”

  The microwave beeps, and I stir the hot chocolate. Julia’s obviously forgotten about me.

  My heart grinds in my stomach, and I grit my teeth. Why hasn’t Carlos told her to end the fake engagement?

  “Okay, bye, sweetie,” Julia says. She hangs up and bounces to the kitchen. “I’m so over Steve. I’m marrying Carlos, and I have to be happy.”

  “But, are you really? It’s not smart to marry on the rebound.”

  A smile slides across her face. “Actually, it all worked out. Now that Steve let me go, I’m truly free, and Carlos isn’t a bad substitute.”

  Wait. Wait. A chill freezes the hairs on my scalp. “Seriously, marriage isn’t a joke.”

  “I agree. And you said Carlos is the right type of guy to marry. He’s loyal and dependable. I can handle boring as long as he’s good in bed.” Her smile widens. “If he makes loves as well as he kisses, I can get used to it.”

  “But you don’t love him,” I wail. “Does he love you?”

  “I think he does. He’s always so careful with me, sweet. After the shooting, he stayed with me until I fell asleep. I was so scared. That gun was pointed right at me and I saw it flash. He was so worried about me. I could see it in his eyes and the way his lips tighten.”

  What do I do? Tell her I also slept with Carlos? She’s emotionally fragile, and her mood swings could cause depression, even suicide.

  “Choke?” Julia takes the steamy mug of chocolate from me. “Will you be my maid of honor? I’m so glad you told me to give Carlos a chance. I can’t wait to start a family. You can be godmother too.”

  She prattles like a small child, the wild, eerie gleam back in her eyes. Her cheeks are rosy and her mannerisms are a little too jerky, like she’s rehearsing a role and determined to be happy, happy, HAPPY!

  I’m also determine to be happy, happy, HAPPY! Which means I’ll be nowhere near the happily engaged couple and their happy parents when they show up later this week.

  I take my keys from my purse. “I hate to leave now, but I have to look in on Livy.”

  “Oh, that’s right, Livy. How’s she?”

  “Probably dying for attention. I haven’t taken her on a field trip this week.”

  “Give her a kiss from me.” Julia leans forward and hugs me.

  I escape in the nick of time. When I pull out of her parking area, I spy the Barrio XO van turning the corner. I make a sharp turn into an alley and look in my rear view window as Carlos drives past on his way to Julia’s to plan their wedding.

  I thump my head on my steering wheel, hating myself. There’s nothing here for me except the bitter memory of the night before. What if he’s lying about faking it with Julia? Maybe he’s leading me on. For what purpose? To be his mistress?

  After I calm down, I call Mama.

  “Choco, where were you all night? You didn’t answer your phone? Did you check your messages?”

  Actually I haven’t had the time, but I don’t tell her that.

  “I left my phone in the car and only found it right now. I’m taking Livy out today. How’s she holding up?”

  “She’s fine. You know how kids are. She’s become a mini-celebrity among her peers, having witnessed the shooting. Genie and Brian are okay too, considering all the drama. We all have questions of course.”

  “Yes, same here. How’s Papa?” My stomach contracts at the thought of my parents’ marriage breaking up.

  She pauses and then sighs. “We stayed up all night talking. There are reasons he went along with Miranda’s demands, but it’s not what you think. He says it’s impossible for Johnny to be his son.”

  What a relief. The good thing is my parents are communicating and opening up about things. But that still doesn’t explain why he’d let Johnny and Miranda into our family.

  “Choke,” my mother says. “Still there?”

  “Yeah, sure. I’m glad you and Papa are talking.”

  “Yes, but he still wants to sell the restaurant. He’s so stubborn.”

  “He can’t. Mama, we can’t let him. Is he selling to Miranda?”

  “He won’t say. Have you seen Johnny? I’m wondering what Johnny has to say about all of this.”

  “Strange he was missing the night of the buffet.”

  “I noticed. Choco, can I ask you to call him?”

  “Sure, I’m also curious what his take is. When do you have to know?” I mean, I don’t really want to deal with Johnny or even speak to him, but this is too important. If I can get Johnny to open up and tell us what he knows, maybe we’ll figure out how to save the restaurant.

  “Sooner the better,” Mama says. “There’s a buyer, but he’s lowballing us.”

  “Okay, let’s talk more when I pick up Livy.”

  “Livy’s excited about having you to herself the rest of the day.”

  My heart warms, and I feel a smile working its way up my face. She likes me. Even though she’s at that difficult age where she’s struggling for her own identity, she still wants to spend time with me.

  “Great. Tell her to be ready.”

  I may not have a future with Carlos, but I have my daughter and everything’s going to be all right, or so I tell myself.

  Chapter 32

  When I arrive at my parents’ house, Livy’s raring to go. On the way to Bombers, she talks my ear off about hashtags, tweets, uploaded photos and videos from the shooting, and rumors about the future of Barrio XO.

  “Okay, okay,” I cut her off. “Are you taking care of your piercing?”

  “I told you it’s good. You worry too much, like a mother hen.” She pouts and continues texting. “Let’s go to the beach tomorrow before my father returns. Genie let me have one of her old bikinis.”

  “Wait,
you promised no one would see your belly button.”

  She sighs loudly and rolls her eyes, wiggling them at the top of their arc and sticking her tongue out. “You’re such a dork. How am I going to look hot if no one sees my dragon jewel?”

  “You’re too young to be hot.”

  “You’re at it again.” Livy crosses her arms. “Sounding like an old lady. Genie thinks I’m going to be pretty when I grow up, and Brian says I’m hot already.”

  “Brian? What else did he say?”

  Livy graces me with a sneaky sidelong grin. “He wants to kiss me, but I’m playing hard to get.”

  “Dammit. I told Brian to stay away from you.”

  I slam on the brakes, almost rear ending a black van. Geez, what’s wrong with me? I’m seeing Carlos at every turn, behind every tree, around every corner.

  “Why?”

  “You’re too young.”

  “He’s sixteen and I’m twelve. My father was five years older than my mother.”

  “Twelve is too young to be kissing guys.”

  “That’s so twentieth century. Some girls in my school have fucked already.”

  This time I swerve to avoid a car cutting into my lane. Sweat rings my forehead, and my breathing is shallow. I don’t want to think about my past. How stupid and naïve I was. Wanting to be kissed and ending up pregnant.

  I pull into the Bombers parking lot and find a tree. Heat waves shimmer off the asphalt, and I’m broiling already.

  Livy moves to open the door, but I grab her hand. “I want to get one thing straight.”

  “It’s hot and stuffy in here.” She fans herself.

  “Right, so you’ll listen and listen well.”

  “Stop digging into my skin.”

  I jerk her hand and make sure I have her complete attention. “The reason your father wants me to be your Big Sister is to tell you these things. You’re too young to have sex. You don’t want to end up pregnant.”

  She purses her lips, her face twisted. “I’m not that stupid. Everyone knows you use protection.”

  “That can fail, and sometimes you’re not prepared, or it can pop.”

  “Ewww, you’re gross.” She opens the door and snarls at me. “Just because you’re a fuddy duddy who’s never been laid doesn’t mean everyone else is going to live by your rules.”

  I follow her out of the car and slam the door. “Stop right there. Livy!”

  She keeps walking.

  “I’m not paying for your ticket until we finish what we’re talking about.”

  She walks faster, her nose in the air. Grrr. I whip out my phone and call Brian.

  He picks up after the second ring. “What’s up?”

  “Livy tells me you want to kiss her. Is that true?”

  “Uh, why would she tell you that?” He’s cagey, his voice guarded.

  “Never mind. Do you or do you not want to kiss her?”

  “You’re too bossy,” he huffs. “It’s not your business.”

  “I’m her Big Sister and responsible for her when her father is out of town. You touch one hair on her head and I’ll kill you. You can go out with any other girl, just not Livy.”

  “Whoa, you’re nuts. Crazy. Choco Loco, Choco Loco, woo, woo, woo.”

  I hang up. This is too rich. I’m going to strangle my brother for hitting on a twelve-year-old.

  “Livy.” I power walk toward the entrance of Bombers. Where the hell did that kid go? “Livy!”

  By now, I’m panicking. Livy could have been kidnapped or lured by shady guys. I spot several vans parked at the edge of the parking lot. Sweat trails down my face. My heartbeat stutters, and I can’t catch my breath.

  I lost Livy. Families walk by on their way into the double doors leading to the arcade. Lights flash from the video games and children scream and tear around the corner.

  “Livy!” I shout, not caring that people are staring. “Help! Has anyone seen my daughter?”

  Several parents come to my aid. “How tall is she? How old?”

  “Twelve. She’s wearing polka dotted leggings and a black and pink shirt. I think something with a daisy heart.”

  An employee approaches me. “You lost your daughter?”

  “Yes, help me find her.”

  “Let’s page her, maybe she got busy playing. What’s her name?”

  “Livy Tan.”

  The employee speaks into a walkie talkie. “Lost child. Female. Twelve. Name is Livy Tan. Her mother’s waiting at the concession counter.” He turns to me. “Wait here.”

  Over the loudspeaker a voice says, “Livy Tan, paging Livy Tan. Your mother’s waiting for you at the hotdog stand. Livy Tan, please proceed to the hotdog stand.”

  Oh, God. I lost Livy. I grab a flyer and fan myself. I hope I don’t pass out. My fingers are tingling and numb. Tears rim my eyes. I clasp my hands together and pray. Please, please, God. Don’t let me lose Livy.

  A finger pokes my back and Livy laughs. “My mother’s waiting for me? You’re such a liar.”

  “Livy!” I squeal and grab her. “Don’t you ever walk off like that. I swear. Your father will go ballistic if I lose you.”

  The employee comes back. “Great. Looks like you found each other.”

  Behind him, Carlos stands there, staring, his hands on his hips.

  “Geez, I don’t know why you’re so worried.” Livy struggles from my embrace. “I told you Kuya’s meeting us here. Weren’t you listening?”

  “Listening? To what?”

  She laughs and goes to Carlos. “She almost got us killed driving over. You should have seen her, cutting off that old lady, and we almost crashed into your van.”

  Oh, so it was Carlos in front of us. I lower my eyes to his feet, my face hot and broiling. He leans close to me and whispers, “Let’s try and have a good time for Livy, okay?”

  “Sure, yeah, why wouldn’t we?” I head for the ticket counter and open my purse. What does he think I am, a brawler?

  “I got the tickets already,” he says. “Here, put this bracelet on. It’s good all day. Unlimited.”

  “Carlos, you didn’t have to.” I’m touched he would be so gracious. “I’m sorry about this morning.”

  “Shhh.” Carlos puts a finger to his lips. “We’ll talk later.”

  “Kuya, can I get an Icee?” Livy interrupts.

  “Definitely.” He digs a five out of his pocket and hands it to her.

  “Yay, you’re the best. I’ll be right back.” She skips to the Icee line.

  Great. He just got rid of Livy after all I did to find her. I follow after her, but Carlos grabs my hand.

  “She’ll be fine. We can keep an eye on her. Now, what was it you wanted to apologize about?” His eyes crinkle, and I can tell he’s full of himself.

  “Nothing. Did I do anything worth apologizing about?”

  “You tried to sneak out.”

  “You told me to let myself out.”

  He lets out a frustrated breath. “I was going to make you breakfast in bed, but you couldn’t wait to leave. Do you regret what we did?”

  “Depends on if you do.”

  “Come here.” He yanks me into his arms and rubs my shoulders. “Why would I regret making love to you?”

  “What about Julia?”

  “It’s fake, remember? Besides, I already broke it off.”

  “Really? How did she take it?”

  “She was fine.” He shrugs. “Doesn’t look like Steve’s biting at the bait.”

  “She let you go? Just like that?” I wonder how Julia calmed down so fast and changed moods.

  “Yep, there’s Livy.” He lets go of me. “Miniature golf first.”

  “Wait, Carlos.” I tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “We have to pretend we’re just friends. Don’t want Livy telling anyone.”

  “Oh, right. We wouldn’t want her entire middle school to know.” He winks and pops his eyeballs up.

  Why is everyone rolling their eyes around me these days.

  �
�Please?”

  He zips his lips. “Okay, besties, like we used to be.”

  At first, it feels awkward to pretend Carlos is just a friend, the way we used to be. But I have to, for Livy’s sake. She adores him, and he’s so patient with her, showing her how to putt, explaining how she should line up her shoulders.

  Meanwhile, I plot his downfall. I have to beat him in some sport. I have a chance at miniature golf. It doesn’t require muscles or stamina. Just good aim. Which I don’t have, but I can still get lucky, or distract him. Ya, ha, ha!

  Carlos lines his ball on one of the starting holes. He squints, assessing the target. Right when he pulls his club back to swing, I yell, “Hey Carlos, a bird’s about to poop on you.”

  He jerks his head at me, and his club glances off the ball. It bounces out of bounds and rolls into a trap.

  “I’ll get you next.” He shakes his fist, grinning.

  I stick to par on that hole. Ha, ha. These miniature golf courses have many trick holes. There’s one where the ball has to go over a bridge, and of course there are all the curbs to bounce off. But the worst are the mounds. Carlos sucks at those.

  Livy, meantime, maxes out at six shots each hole. “My club’s crooked. Can we trade?”

  “I don’t see anything wrong,” I say.

  Carlos takes her club and balances it. “Ah, you see here? It’s curved and off balanced. Here Livy, have my club.”

  Oh no he doesn’t. Then he’ll have an excuse why he lost. Besides, the clubs were handed out by height.

  “Livy, take mine. His is too long for you.”

  “Whatever.” She grabs it.

  After she’s out of earshot, Carlos whispers, “My club’s definitely too long for you.”

  “You wish.” I tally the scores, my cheeks burning. “You’re still five strokes behind.”

  He bends toward me and waggles his eyebrows. “I’ll make up those strokes tonight. Where would you like them?”

  “You nasty boy.” I wait until he lines up for his putt before pretending to trip and bump into him. “You’re not even up to par. Tsk, tsk, tsk. You sure you can keep up with me?”

  “I know how you like me driving into your hole.” He winks and swats the ball. It rolls into the hole, and he does a golfer’s fist pump. “As for keeping up with you? I can go all night.”