Juked

by M. E. Carter

  “Where have you been, man?” Geovany asks when Mama and I finally pull away from each other. He pops the top off a beer bottle and hands it to me, taking a swig of his own.

  “I’ve been around,” I say after taking a drink. “Play-offs are starting soon, so I’m reviewing a lot of tapes and working on a lot more plays. Trying to keep the team spirits high, ya know?”

  “How are the team’s chances this year?” Blanca’s husband, Aaron, asks. “It was rough last year.” Several people murmur in agreement, including me.

  “Honestly,” I say, “I think we’re a stronger team than last year, but we still have a few bad apples that bring us down. Give us another year. We’ll go all the way.”

  We make small talk for a few minutes. Marlene updates us on the new music director at their church and how much fun he is to work with. Elizabeth tells us about a new project she’s working on at her architecture firm. Geovany gives us the low-down on his latest blind date that Erika sent him on and why he will never trust her judgment on women again. That earns him a towel to the face, curtesy of our oldest sister, who apparently doesn’t appreciate Geovany’s aversion to older women because, in Erika’s words, “She’s so nice, though!”

  It’s nice, comfortable, and feels completely staged. I expect someone to ask about Quincy, but with what happened last time, they all wisely stay away from the topic. Until Eduardo doesn’t.

  “So where’s Quincy?” he asks, arms crossed while he leans against a bar stool. The entire room goes deathly quiet. I glare at him and sip my beer, planning my words carefully.

  “Not here.” That’s the best I can come up with on short notice. I don’t want to tell them what’s going on, partially because I’m still not sure what to do about my feelings, partially because I’m starting to feel embarrassed about how I disappeared on her. I feel a fight coming if he and I have words. I’m wound too tight and miss her too much for him to try to pull “man of the house” shit tonight.

  Eduardo nods once and purses his lips, like he knew this would happen. It pisses me off, so of course I can’t let it go.

  “What?” I ask menacingly. “You got something to say?”

  “No. Just glad you finally came to your senses.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I narrow my eyes at him and put the beer on the counter. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Geovany and Aaron stand up and discreetly position themselves next to us in case they have to pull us off each other. I barely notice because all my focus is on my oldest brother and how he can’t seem to keep his fucking opinions to himself.

  Eduardo scoffs. “Don’t get all defensive. I’m glad you saw through her act. You’ve always been so smart about relationships. I was worried someone finally had you fooled.”

  “Lalo!” my mother yells as Blanca gasps. “Enough! No more fighting over this.”

  I take a step forward, Geovany right behind me. “I didn’t see through anything, Lalo. What I did was fucking freak out.” I didn’t want them to all know my business, but now that I’ve let the cat out of the bag, I can’t stop spouting off about all my personal demons. “Her kid called me dada, and I panicked because I don’t do relationships. Everyone says I’m like dad, and I can’t stand the thought of ruining that little boy the way dad ruined all of us when he left. I thought I’d better get out now to protect him. So fuck you, Lalo. I didn’t see through anything. Once again, dad’s decision came back to haunt me, and once again, I’m fucking miserable for it.”

  I step back and look around, noticing the faces around me. Some of their jaws are dropped. Some are looking at me with pity. Now I’m flat out embarrassed of my outburst. If I’d wanted them all to know what had happened with Quincy, I would have told one of my sisters a couple of weeks ago and let it make the rounds over the phone.

  I down the rest of my beer and drop the empty bottle in the red recycling can, praying someone will change the subject. No such luck for me, though.

  “Is that how you really feel?” Mama asks, her hands still messy with the chicken and spices she was mixing together. “About your father leaving? That he ruined you?” I shrug and score another beer out of the fridge. “This is why you haven’t had a girlfriend since high school? Because you’re afraid you’re too much like your father?”

  “Do we really have to discuss this, Mama?” I rub my face in frustration. “I shouldn’t have said anything. These are my demons to deal with, not yours.”

  “He’s right, though.” Blanca speaks up from the stool she’s sitting on, Aaron’s hands on her shoulders. “No one ever talked about it, but Dad ruined all of us when he left.”

  My mom’s eyebrows furrow. “I… what do you mean?”

  Blanca sighs before diving into her assessments. “Daniel and Geovany refuse to have anything to do with relationships. At all. Because they’re afraid of getting bored and hurting someone later.”

  “Hey,” Geovany chimes in. “You don’t know that.”

  “Fine,” she shoots back. “So you’re just a man-whore. Either way, it can be traced back to Dad.”

  Geovany nods in agreement. “I can see that.”

  “Lalo drives everyone crazy with his whole ‘head of the household’ routine,” she continues.

  Eduardo drops his jaw in indignation. “Hey! I’ve always tried to protect this family. It’s what the oldest boy does. I don’t drive anyone crazy, right?” He tries making eye contact with everyone in the room, but no one will look at him. “I… do I really do that?”

  “I love you, honey,” Elizabeth says, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “But you are way too overbearing sometimes. You could back off a bit.”

  Eduardo sighs. “I just thought I was jumping in where Dad left off.”

  Blanca wraps part of the napkin around her finger. “That’s why no one said anything. I’m pretty sure we all have our damage from Dad leaving. It was a shock to all of us. We were adults, so it’s not like you could protect us from the truth.”

  “What about your damage?” Mama asks Blanca. “I thought everyone came through just fine, but now that you’re pointing it out, I think you may be right.”

  Blanca makes eye contact with Aaron before looking back at Mama. “I clung to a marriage I should never have been in in the first place to prove that not all marriages end badly.”

  Everyone pauses. I look around the room at the faces of my family, but they all appear lost in thought, probably thinking about what Blanca has just revealed, and about what other unhealthy reactions we may have had without even realizing it.

  “Wow,” Marlene finally says. “I thought we all just had our own quirks, but you’re so right, Blanca. It’s like we swept our feelings under the rug and never figured out what to do about them.”

  Blanca smiles weakly. “I’ve been learning a lot in my psychology class lately.”

  “Since when have you been taking a psychology class?” Geovany asks.

  “Since before Aaron and I got married.” She claps his hand. “I wanted to see if there was a better way to do relationships than the way I did it last time. We got to the section about grief and loss, and it all started to click. I think I might want to major in it now.”

  A low whistle comes from between Eduardo’s lips. “Blanca as a psychologist. This family alone could fill up her schedule.”

  Blanca smiles. “We’ll see. We still haven’t decided if I’m going back to school full time. It’s a pipe dream for now, but if nothing else, maybe I’ll learn some things to help put this family on the right track.”

  The door to the living room swings open and Nicholas peeks through and stops. He looks around like he realizes he’s interrupted something important. “Uh, do I need to come back?”

  “No, mijo,” I say, grateful for his interruption. “Just some heavy conversation is all. What’s up?”

  “I wanted to talk to you. Do you have a second?” He points over his shoulder with his thumb.

  “Sure.” I address the rest of
the family. “I’ve just been saved from this very uncomfortable conversation. I’ll see you all at the dinner table.”

  I follow Nicky through the living room, hearing Geovany yell, “Take me with you!”.

  “What was that all about?” Nicky asks. “I’ve never heard the kitchen without noise before. It’s freaky.”

  We traipse out the door to the patio and take our usual seats. “Nah. Just some old hurts that were being mended. Nothing exciting.”

  “Oh.” He shakes his head as if to clear it. “I don’t think I want to know what you’re talking about, do I?”

  I chuckle against the lip of my beer. “Probably not.” I take a drink before asking, “So what’s up?”

  “What do you think of her?” He leans forward, obviously excited about his new girlfriend. I could make this easy on him, but after the intense conversation I just came out of, I feel like having a little fun with him.

  “What do I think of who?”

  “Tamela.”

  “Who?” I ask, feigning confusion.

  “My girlfriend, Tio. What do you think of my girlfriend?”

  “Oh, her!” I dodge a pinecone he throws at my head. “She’s really cute.”

  “Cute? She’s not cute. She’s beautiful.” He lists his girlfriend’s qualities. “She’s smart, 4.0 GPA. And she’s super nice. She’s been known to stand up against bullies picking on other kids. She’s amazing,” he gushes.

  “Sounds like it.” I chuckle. “Aren’t you glad you got to know her before just using her for sex?”

  The little shit looks shocked I would even suggest such a thing about her, even though it had been his idea in the first place.

  “Oh, that would have never happened with her.”

  “Really? What changed?”

  “She’s a virgin,” he reveals, and I spew my beer across the patio.

  Once I get my coughing under control, I’m able to ask questions. “I thought she was the school whore? Your words, not mine,” I tack on quickly.

  He looks at me sheepishly. “I may have believed the wrong rumors. She used to date this big football player, Jaylen Morris. He’s a real badass. They messed around and stuff, but she wasn’t ready to go all the way, so he dumped her and started telling everyone how she put out. His friends all jumped on the bandwagon, making up their own stories and shit. She says it was awful. Her parents had to get involved, and Jaylen admitted to the principal he had made it all up and promised not to spread anymore rumors.”

  “But people already believed him,” I interject, shaking my head. Kids can be such dicks sometimes.

  Nicky nods. “She’s really quiet, ya know? She tends to be kind of shy, so she never set anyone straight.”

  “Wow. She sounds like a pretty remarkable girl.”

  “Well, yeah! Why do you think I’m still dating her?”

  “Not to get in her pants?”

  “No way,” he says adamantly. “She’s not ready for that. She’s way too perfect for me to put that pressure on her.”

  “Aw.” I ruffle his hair. “Is our little Nicky in loooooove?”

  “Stop, Tio,” he says, batting my hands away. “Respect the hair, man.”

  I knew Nicky would do the right thing, and I really like that he found a great girl when he took a step back and let his brain do the thinking instead of his penis.

  We sit quietly, me nursing my beer, him staring out into the trees.

  “I told her the truth about why I asked her out.”

  My hand pauses in mid-air, beer bottle poised for me to take another drink. “How’d she take it?”

  “She cried.” He smiles sadly. “Asked how I could do something like that to her. I felt like such an asshole.”

  “You kind of were an asshole.”

  “I know.”

  “Is that why you told her? ’Cause you were feeling guilty?”

  Nicky rubbed his fingers across his bottom lip. “I wanted to be honest with her. I didn’t want her to hear about it from someone else. I wanted her to hear it straight from me so she would know I made a mistake. That I was owning up to it.”

  His words felt like a sucker punch to my gut. I had seen the papers recently and Quincy probably had, too: the pictures of me walking through a hotel lobby with some girl, the speculation that I was back on the market, the critics saying I didn’t want to play daddy to her kid. They were hurtful and untrue. The girl in the lobby was walking next to me when I left. I didn’t even know who she was. And yes, I’m confused, but instead of being honest with Quincy, I’m letting her hear the rumors and doing nothing to set her straight.

  “It really sucked knowing I hurt her like that,” Nicky continues without realizing how much guilt he’s making me feel. “But I apologized and brought her flowers. I told her if I ever did something like that again I’d let her kick me in the junk.”

  I chuckle and he smiles. “You better be careful giving out free passes like that, kid. Zavaro men tend to screw up frequently.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t think that one through.”

  “Speaking of, where is Tamela anyway?”

  He looks over his shoulder, trying to glimpse her through the window. “She was going to the bathroom, but I’m guessing she got sidetracked. I’d better go rescue her before Abuela starts going down memory lane.”

  “Keep them far away from those photo albums in the den,” I say as he stands. “There are some very unflattering pictures of you as a baby in them.”

  “I already moved them so Abuela wouldn’t find them,” he says with a laugh. “Hey, Tio?” He’s at the door. “Thanks for making me man up.”

  I nod, and he goes inside, leaving me alone with my thoughts again.

  Damn.

  I just got schooled by a teenager.

  I hum and run a finger over Chance’s eyebrows and down the bridge of his nose. He finished his bottle a while ago and has been asleep ever since, but I can’t muster the desire to put him down for the night.

  I think about how much he’s changed in the last nine months since I got custody of him. He’s longer and not nearly as chunky as he used to be. All the crawling and pulling up is quickly burning off his baby rolls. His facial features are more distinct. He still bears a striking resemblance to my dad’s baby pictures, but Chance looks more like, well, himself.

  His pouty lips move in a suckling motion, like he’s dreaming of his bottle. It always warms my heart when he does it. It’s a sign a baby feels safe, loved, and content.

  Lucky him. All I feel is terror.

  Tomorrow we go before a judge, who will decide where Chance will live for the next seventeen years of his life. A judge who will determine if the man who didn’t care enough to acknowledge his own child can now parent that child appropriately. There’s nothing I can do about it except pray. Needless to say, I’m scared shitless.

  “Please, God,” I say, stroking his sweet cheeks. “Please protect my baby. You gave him to me. You trusted me with him and I love him like he is my own. Please, please don’t take him away. I’ll do anything, God. Anything at all.”

  Tears run down my cheeks, and I swallow a sob. Losing my dad was incredibly difficult. Losing my sister was horrific. But the thought of losing this baby is flat-out debilitating.

  With my dad and my sister, it was so hard. There is no question they were the two worst times in my life. But there was finality to their deaths. There was resolution. They aren’t in pain anymore. I know they’re in a better place, and they’re together.

  But to lose a baby like this? There would never be resolution. I’d always wonder. Is he safe? Is he happy? Is he lonely or hungry or being treated badly? Will Erik remember to give him his favorite red washcloth that he likes to snuggle? Will Erik get the bath water temperature right? Will he know to sing random Meghan Trainer songs when he doesn’t feel well?

  There is no closure when you hand your baby over to a stranger. There are only never-ending questions that plague you forever.

  “
Please, God. Please. Please,” I beg.

  Maybe if we get in the car right now, we can be in Mexico by morning. They’ll never find us. Maybe I can hire a hit man to take Erik out tonight. Maybe if I don’t show up, everyone will forget.

  Chance takes a deep breath and shifts in my arms, pulling me out of my insane thoughts. As much as I don’t want to, I know it’s time to put him down for the night. Regardless of how I want to pause this moment in time and hold him forever, that’s not what’s in his best interests, and best interests are what I signed on for, even if that means forgoing my own desires.

  I reluctantly stand and shuffle over to his crib. Lowering him to the mattress, I keep humming. I place his red washcloth in his hands and his chubby fingers clutch it tightly, bringing it up to his chin. He found that washcloth about a month ago when I was folding laundry. I don’t know if it’s the texture or the color, but it’s been his favorite ever since. It’s funny the things kids attach themselves to. I smooth his hair.

  Double checking that his monitor is on and the nightlight hasn’t burned out yet, I take one last look around the room, trying to memorize this moment in case it’s the last one I ever get like this.

  Surely the judge won’t be so cruel as to never let me see him again. Surely God wouldn’t allow my heart to be ripped away like that. Surely.

  I close the door behind me and wipe the tears from my cheeks. Court is just a few hours away, and there is still a lot to do.

  I pad my way to my room and wander into my closet to find appropriate clothes for court. My attorney said business casual was fine. That’s pretty much all I wear, so it should be easy to find something, but I keep overthinking how each outfit will make me look. Will I look maternal enough? Will I look like I’m trying too hard? Will the judge look down on me if it clings too much? Picking out clothes shouldn’t be this hard.

  I finally give up and plop down on my bed. Glancing over at my dresser, I see the long piece of paper that ripped any hope I had of an easy resolution to shreds. I pick it up and look at it again, hoping the words say something different this time. But as I read, my dream doesn’t become a reality.