by Amber Burns
“No, unfortunately,” she resumes slicing through her fish, her long lashes lowered over the task, voice drifting about the quartet playing in the far corner of the section over. “I have commitments here. Still with technology today, long distances hardly feel long or distance-y.”
I’m somber, taking in her profile. She doesn’t waver from cutting off a slice of fish and nabbing it off the end of her fork. Her words are ringing around my head, and I merely catch the tail end of Campo’s comment.
“Ay ay,” Campo wags a finger, his fork tines twisted with his pasta. “I don’t understand these younger generations at all. How can a computer or phone replace the actual feeling of cariño? Of love?”
“Father,” Katherina warns, but he brushes her off.
“I just want to know how you a computer or a phone can hug you at night?” Campo’s tirade is picked up by Custodio and TzaTza who pitch in with their own thoughts, dividing the table...almost.
“What about you, Senor McBride?”
I flick my eyes from Astra because it’s appropriate – and because it hurts to know she’ll harboring her pain through at least one last course, dessert, when she’s only here to help me.
“I think it offers those who can’t find a match as easily the traditional way.” I search out Astra’s thigh under the table and massage her warm, thick flesh. “Evens out the playing field, right?”
“Agreed,” Katherina lifts up her flute of red wine in the shortest of toasts and touches it to her smiling lips. “My last two boyfriends were online matches,” she says as way of explanation, that little smirk playing on her lips. “And that’s why, Father, although mine didn’t work out as wished for it doesn’t leave the rest of us hopeless. We should be giving Mr. McBride and Ms. Olsen our well wishes and blessings.”
“Claro!” he nods gravely, raising his own glass at his daughter’s provocation.
“Thank you.” Astra’s smile is brilliantly cool, but empty. No one seems to notice save me.
And why wouldn’t you? You have no plans to continue this, but it’s pretty damn clear she wants to.
And I don’t?
The question sits hard in my gut. I like her...a lot. Maybe even love her, but enough to hold on tight, to make some changes to accommodate Astra and whatever we have.
“If you don’t mind my asking, how long have you two been together?” Katherina dabs a napkin over her mouth to catch the sauces from her Salisbury steak.
I squeeze Astra’s leg, taking this one.
There are a couple more questions of that nature through the main course and dessert, and I make sure to vet them all, biting the proverbial bullet and mushing on through my own mess.
Halfway through dessert Astra excuses herself for the powder room and Katherina and TzaTza decide to follow. With the ladies gone, I face Custodio and Campo at different angles.
Cold anxiety washes over me. I remember to breathe deep, squeezing the cushion of the booth space beside me emptied by Astra. Having a panic attack is a no-no, made more so in front of Custodio and his clear insinuation of disappointment in his question.
“I didn’t know you and Dr. Olsen were so close.” His eyes are frigid, cooler than the crispy February night.
“It sort of just happened. What can I say?” I loosen my jaw from its clenching reaction.
“In the week and a half you’ve been with us?” his tone is incredulous, his thin lips stretching with blatant displeasure and his whiskers wriggling with the rest of his leashed annoyance.
I shrug. “Sounds about right.”
Campo watches quietly before making his observation with a smile. “Love happens so suddenly. It was the same with my wife. We’re celebrating our fortieth soon. She would have loved to join us, but we’ve been hosting my youngest daughter and our grandchildren.”
The ladies’ returning cuts Campo off in one of his family reminiscence, regaling us of memories of his daughters’ childhoods. It makes a nostalgic lump form for something I never had with my mom.
Returning ahead of Astra and TzaTza, Katherina swoops down beside him and laughs lightly, “Are you telling Mr. McBride and Mr. Lopez about those childish antics?” she kisses his cheeks, adding, “I hope you’re at least telling them I’m much wiser now.”
My laugh is tight. I’m watching out for Astra. It takes another few minutes of on-the-edge tension until her red hair and shimmering gold dress enters my vision.
Her sweet fruity lotion and shampoo assails me, and I breathe in Astra deeply, resisting the inclination to sink my nose into her hair in front of our guests. I do press a quick kiss on her cheek. She shivers and almost leans away from me, offering the quickest, barest smile as hint of my affection. I’m baffled. Hurt and confused.
Shifting back to my side of the table, I meet Custodio’s glimmering eyes and shake off the dark knowledge in the glimpse. Dinner concluding is all I care about at this point - that and getting Astra alone so we can talk freely about the night, about us and our future.
I make a speedy resolve: I’m going to talk to her tonight. No more dodging this. I’ll tell her how I feel, come clean and let her do what she wants with the information.
God. I hope my senses aren’t shot and she wants me as much as I do.
Blissfully the time entertaining the Campos end. And with their staying in a hotel in Newark and their flight out tomorrow morning, I won’t have to deal with Custodio’s shitty matchmaking anymore.
Custodio and TzaTza had offered Katherina and Campo a ride, so they left as a group of four, and leaving Astra and I to start our half-hour journey back to Orange Compass.
Remember that quickie I couldn’t think stop thinking about, it doesn’t happen. Neither does any conversation. At least until we pass the welcome sign into OC. I veer the SUV through silent streets. A week night has cleared out any passersby even though it’s barely 8 p.m.
It’s as we’re passing the shadowed building of the school that I say, “About that...thanks again for coming out.”
I choke. Rather than telling her I’ve fallen in lust or love – I’m still navigating through the differences – I just choke.
Gripping the steering, my white knuckles gleam tauntingly at me. Pussy. They say, dumbass pussy – tell her.
“Astra,” her name comes out gruff, but I’m a man put through his paces by none other than myself. And I’m also the only one who can make this all better for me...for her. “Sorry.”
She shifts, her voice floating up and washing over me, soothing me even as she’s simply asking, “For?”
“Everything,” I laugh bitterly.
We’re passing the pole with the red ribbon now, moving out of Main Street into the quieter lane of my childhood. As usual I’m blatantly aware of the old family home as we drive by.
“To name a few though, I’m sorry for putting you through that. I should have known that they’d be asking after us and our…” it’s only a blank of two seconds; a blank filled with chest-burning fear and the descent of unwelcome panic, but I hurriedly rush through the end. “Our relationship, and all of that.”
Astra doesn’t immediately respond. “That’s unnecessary. You didn’t force me to come out tonight.”
Not the answer I’m looking for at all. It’s delivered coolly, like she’d been reciting it over and over again throughout the drive until it’s molded into an icicle and shoved through my chest.
I’m also speechless despite all the things I should say ringing inside my damned head. My hands renew their grasp on the wheel.
I click the blink and turn into her line. Observing stop signs and road rules are keeping me from, what, begging at her feet for not being truthful to her? For being scared of what happens after I bare my mind and heart for her to do what she wills with them?
“I don’t know how else to show you my gratitude.” I say once I’ve turned the engine off in front of her home. I toy with the keys in the ignition and when she doesn’t speak I lift my head to brave searching for her in
the dusk.
“Good night.” Astra unlocks her seatbelt and opens the door. I follow her as she hits the sidewalk, catching up to her in a speed walk. She’s rummaging for her house keys in her large, black leather purse.
“We do have to talk,” I say. It’s no or...likely never. If I left for L.A. with things the way they were, I’d never convince myself to come back to Orange Compass and to Astra.
“Can it wait until tomorrow? It’s a school night,” she has her keys out and turned in her lock. I cover her hand with mine and that stops her from running into her house, things being as they are.
How do you go from waking up in each other’s arms, fucking again and then kissing and wishing each other a good day to this in less than 24 hours?
“I know what day it is.” My thumb caresses her smooth flesh, brushing her cold, gold-colored bangle. All my attention is on her. I take in her hazel eyes, darker without the lack of light, natural or otherwise, and her stiff lips, still so kissable given the situation that should have sucked all the libido from me.
“I also know I don’t feel right about any of this. And I won’t feel right until we talk.”
“N-Not tonight,” her voice stern but quaking; a signal of her crumbling defenses. At least now I know she’s angry.
Drawing her hand off the doorknob, I set her fist to my chest. “I care for you.”
“You’ve said that,” her lips are thinner, nostrils flared, but the air puffing out is thicker and faster. I’m unnerving her. And she isn’t as unaffected by my touch – there’s hope for me yet.
Encouraged by what I’m witnessing, I raise her fist to my lips and kiss each gloved knuckle languidly. “I care for you more than I have any other woman, and I’ve given you a tally of that.”
She doesn’t jerk her hand away and slap me. Astra straightens, her heels giving her an advantage of about a few inches tonight. “Is that what you want to talk about?”
It’s not as haughty as it sounds.
In fact her question makes me chuckle and I find her other hand and lavish the same attention on the knuckles there, my lips linger over the suede glove to find her eyes. “That and I think, no,” I lift my head up higher, my eyes stinging from being opened so long. I have no plan to close them yet in case I miss her reaction.
“No,” I say again. “I’m sure I like you a whole hell lot.”
I can see her swallow, her throat convulsing, and I’m not blind to her eyes shimmering more and more throughout our emotional up-and-down. But I want off this ride, and now.
Something’s telling me she’s not as ready as I thought, sensed she might be.
If anything she’s receding from me both mentally and physically. One of her heels shift back and it’s making me stretch to hold her gloved hands in mine, to keep some measure of connection with us.
“It’s probably even more than that, like I love you but I’m not sure if it is love. Maybe you can help me,” I squeeze her hands and push through, if only to get the weight off my shoulders, to throw my heart, still beating, to the wolves and hope they don’t swallow it whole.
“I can’t stop thinking about you, beyond being alone in bed at night. My heart,” I bring both her fists to my chest, having to lean in as she doesn’t readily step forward and make it easy. “My heart beats harder whenever you’re in the picture, babe. And I hated – hate when Dan flirted with you, and it pains me when you’re upset.”
I drop my head and breathe deep, before asking, “Does that sound like love to you, too?”
Our eyes meet in the lengthy silence. Astra’s eyes are wider and her mouth is slightly parted, her cheeks and nose rosy from the winter night’s chill. If it weren’t that my whole world seemed fixed on this moment, I would get her inside to avoid her suffering another bad cold.”
I want her to kiss me.
I want her to say she feels the same.
I want her to...I just want her.
I definitely don’t want her doing what she’s doing.
“Ryker,” she tugs until I free her and then she holds her affected hand to the front of her jacket, breathing heavier than the seconds ago when I hadn’t brought up love. “I have work tomorrow.”
I drop my hands from their frozen position mid-air. My arms hang loosely at my side, matching the blood draining out of my head in a whoosh. Oddly my heart is thumping double-time in the face of rejection.
She has her door open, her keys in hand and I can’t bear to turn and see whatever look she has in her eyes as she says, “Good night” again in the same even, cool tone from earlier – before I poured my heart out to her, spilled my guts and all for her to slay me.
She does wait a beat to hear me wish her the same.
I don’t.
And I won’t until she’s wrapped up in me again and we’re chasing sleep together. No, Astra, it’s not fucking going to be a good night. And you’re deluding yourself if you won’t be tossing and turning about me either, babe.
I’m in autopilot mode to the B&B. I hardly make note of anything, passing the front desk and the teen behind it who actually chooses that moment of all moments to talk to me.
Stupid kid, can’t you see I’m busy moping, off to lick my fucking wounds?
“You’re Ryker, right? That guy from the rock band?”
I try to minimize the eye roll. “Yeah. Who’s looking for me?”
Introducing himself as a sophomore at Orange Compass High, the normal public school that isn’t St. B&J, he pulls his backpack from behind the counter and draws out his colorful binder.
“You drew these?” I point to the life-like art scrawled over the purple vinyl and at his enthusiastic ‘yeah’, I slowly nod, studying as many pieces as my tightly-wired patience allows. “Neat.”
Realizing I’m waiting for him, he asks, “Could you sign this, please? If it’s no trouble.”
First autograph out of OC. News of Tense Finger might have gotten around in the last week, but I hadn’t exactly been out and about…
Remembering Astra cuts through my dalliance over the binder. I silently hold up a hand and the kid is speedy at putting a pen in it. “Here good?” I point to the front cover and wait for his verbal approval.
“How do you spell your last name?” as he says each individual letter, I finish his name and sign with a quick, if not cheesy, personal message. I’m signing mostly because he isn’t one of those spoiled kids like Lola and the kids I had to school with nearly two decades ago.
His binder back in his possession, he smooths a hand over the front and reads aloud, “To Nate Ringermann.”
“That all?” I drop the pencil over on his side and make to turn when he calls me back.
“Um, you’re playing at Lola Lopez’s birthday party?” his face a darkening red at this point, his voice cracks when I look up briefly. I don’t ask how he knows Lola; probably the same way Liam got sucked up by my goddaughter’s charm and teen beauty standard.
“Yeah.” I keep my voice even. The party is reminding me of Astra, too. Is she going to come now?
“I thought I heard that. Man, now I wish I did have tickets. Your music is pretty cool, and I’ve never been to a live concert.” He flushes, dropping his gaze to his binder. Why do I get the sense he hasn’t been too many parties either?
I take a deep breath through my nose and reach for the pen again. “You got paper? And I’ll need your phone too.”
He does as I ask and I scratch out a message for the bouncers Lola asked TzaTza for to manage the RSVP guests from any party-crashers. Or in her whiny soon-to-be sixteen words, ‘any loser posers who think they know me’ and cue hair flip. Too much like her entitled parents.
I find the record button on his cell and save a message with me reading the note.
“There you go. Pass that to the bouncers and they should let Nate plus one in for the show.”
He stumbles through two or three ‘thank yous’ before I hit the bottom of the stairs. “Tell your parents I said ‘night’,” I t
oss back. It’s the best I can do with my mood.
11
As predicted I don’t get sleep. Instead for the next two nights I count the floral pattern of the wallpaper in the Victorian-styled room. It’s either that or rewinding the clips of the moments in front of Astra’s house after our dinner with the Campos and Lopezes. I’m not sadistic – even if I’ve enjoyed torturous foreplay with Astra.
So counting flowers is the way I go, and that does its job until sunrise. The day following our ‘talk’ I spent practicing with Jesse and Dan. It was the longest I stayed with them, and it didn’t go unnoticed. I brushed their questioning off.
