Read With Your Heart: a small town romance

by L. B. Dunbar

  “Hey, Amaryllis. I have something for you.” Tricia hands the casserole dish over to Lena, who lifts it to her nose again, and I watch as Tricia drops the duffel bag on the living room floor. After she unzips it, she pulls out a winter coat, holding it up to herself.

  “I’ve outgrown a few things.” She looks at Lys. “Gained some weight over the years.” She winks at my sister, but there isn’t an ounce of fat on this woman. I’ve seen her body outlined in those tight dresses she wears. I’ve also seen her naked through the window. Nope. No fat. Not anywhere.

  “I thought you might be able to use these. If you don’t like them or don’t want them, you will not hurt my feelings. I can pass them to my nieces who go to the high school, but I thought I’d ask you first.”

  I’m so pissed I practically vibrate. We do not want her secondhand handouts or her dinner or her fucking help. I want her out of this house, and I’m ready to make that happen any way I can, including lifting her no-fat-anywhere body over my shoulder and hiking her back to her side of the driveway.

  Then Lys speaks. “I love it.” The dreaminess to her voice, and the desire in her eyes for the long wool coat cuts me to the quick. She what?

  “Got anything in there for me?” Lena asks like a petulant child who didn’t get a gift. To my surprise—although I shouldn’t be surprised by this woman who I knew was trouble the moment she ran into me in the alley—Tricia bends to reach into the bag and pulls out two more jackets. One has an embroidered emblem with the brand Lena has wanted. The other is a puffy ski jacket with the same logo. Lena fights a smile. She wants them both but plays it up like she can’t decide.

  “I’ll leave them here and you can decide which one you’d like best, or you can take them both. I only ask if you don’t like them you give them back so I can pass them to my niece.”

  “Madison Carter. She’s your niece, right?” Lena asks with a little sass, like she doesn’t like Tricia’s niece, but Tricia doesn’t notice.

  “Yes, she is.” Pride fills her aunt’s voice, and I notice Lena’s face pinch. She really doesn’t like the girl.

  “She know these are yours?” Lena questions, going into her default mode of standoffish and mouthy.

  Tricia shrugs. “I don’t know. My niece loves to raid my closet for some reason.” My guess is because Tricia has nice clothes, and a few expensive things maybe her parents don’t allow her to have otherwise.

  “I’ll take them both,” Lena demands, and I hiss her name. She amends with, “Please. And thank you.”

  “Did you bring us dinner?” Lys interjects, and Lena moves to show our sister the pan.

  “Enchiladas, hermanita,” Lena purrs, and Lys inhales next.

  “They smell like Mami’s.”

  Fuck. She isn’t wrong, but I just don’t want to want this dinner.

  “Are you gonna eat with us?” Lys asks, too hopeful, and Tricia looks up at me. I close my eyes a second. I cannot look at her. I cannot look at any of them. I’m being overruled by a house full of women, and none of them belong here.

  “I think that’s up to your brother, who maybe had other plans this evening,” Tricia cautiously prompts. “Maybe another night.” Her voice drops. I opened my eyes while she spoke and watched Lys’s face fall. Lena glares at me, and Tricia avoids looking at me altogether. Her hands slip into her own lightweight jacket, and she smiles weakly at Lys who breaks into a coughing fit.

  “Are you sick?” Tricia questions while Lys shakes her head but continues to cough into her elbow. Tricia steps forward and lays the back of her hand on Lys’s forehead. Lys closes her eyes like it’s bliss to have this woman’s touch on her, and I sigh, jealous of the tenderness she’s displaying toward my baby sister. Lys misses our mother, and I don’t blame her. We don’t even really know one another since I’m twenty-one years older than she is and wasn’t home when she was born. I’m just doing the best I can with strangers living in my home.

  “She’s always coughing and sniffling. It’s annoying,” Lena groans.

  “Do you have allergies?” Tricia asks, assessing my sister because now, apparently, she’s a freaking doctor, and the next thing she’s going to do is report me to some medical board for not looking after my sister’s health. I don’t have insurance for whatever Tricia has diagnosed Lys with, and I’m back to wanting her out of our house.

  Lys shakes her head at Tricia’s question, but Tricia continues. “Would you know if you had allergies? Have you ever been tested for them?”

  Nice dig, teacher. Gonna be an investigative reporter in your next life, maybe?

  “I just cough like this whenever I start school,” Lys finally explains.

  Tricia tenderly smiles. “Unfortunately, schools are commonly cesspools for mold, and with so many kids, it’s a Petri dish of germs. Maybe you just need a little allergy medicine.” Her voice suggests there’s no maybe about it, and she’s adding it to the list of things she’s going to do next for us.

  “Don’t,” I snap, causing both my sisters to flinch, and Tricia turns on me. “Don’t act like you’re a doctor too and diagnose my sister.”

  “I’m not a doctor.” She laughs like I’m joking. “I’m just trying to hel—”

  “We don’t want your help. We don’t need your jackets, and we don’t want your dinner.” My fists clench at my sides. Then I’m reaching for the door, ready to suggest she leave, when Lys interjects.

  “I want the jacket,” she says softly.

  “And I want dinner. Your cooking sucks,” Lena adds.

  “Well, you could help out and make it yourself once in a while,” I bark back. Then I meet Tricia’s eyes, reminded we have an audience. The brown-green turns to murky water, and I don’t like it. I don’t like how she’s looking at me with a mixture of compassion and censure, as if she understands my struggle but doesn’t sympathize with how I’m handling things.

  I’m a fucking failure in her eyes. Great. Just fucking great.

  Tricia stares at me another second and then slowly unzips her jacket. “I’d love to stay for dinner,” she says, inserting herself into the evening. I now have two choices: either join them or go out myself.

  Too bad those enchiladas smell so good because I’m fucking outta here.

  Lesson 12

  Honesty is the best policy.

  [Tricia]

  The slam of the door startles us all, but I offer a weak smile of reassurance to his sisters.

  “Let’s heat this up,” I suggest, tossing my coat to the couch that matches mine. I can’t wait to replace the one in my house, but again, I’m still waiting until my divorce is final. I’ve been told it could take anywhere from sixty days to nine months at the max. I’m hoping for sixty days, provided Trent doesn’t cause me any issues. He’s been surprisingly quiet since he was served the papers. On the other hand, there hasn’t been any contact with my attorney from a lawyer for Trent, and this concerns me. Trent can be ignorant when he doesn’t want to face the facts.

  I ignore the memory and help myself to the Ramirez kitchen, which is also a carbon copy of mine. I start the oven and turn back to both girls.

  “Let’s start over,” I suggest, taking a deep breath to compose myself after witnessing Leon have a tantrum and leave out the front door. I don’t want to compare his behavior toward his sisters to how Trent treats Levi. I’m not excusing inexcusable conduct, but Leon isn’t the same man as Trent. Their circumstances are entirely different. I relax, not realizing how tense I grew at his fierce tone and gruff voice. “I’m Tricia Carter.”

  I hold out a hand to Lena as we haven’t officially met even though I’ve seen her in the high school hallways. She’s new to the school, of course, and she’s garnered a bit of attention from the teachers and the boys alike. My niece Madison is also a senior, and she’s mentioned Lena.

  “She’s so tough, like she just wants to kick your ass,” Madison had explained.

  Lena does have a protective outer shell, and I don’t blame her. I’d like
to give Lena the benefit of doubt and surmise she’s struggling as a senior being uprooted from her home in her final year of high school. I can’t help but wonder what else she grapples with under her tough exterior. I don’t like how Leon spoke to her. I can’t assume his tone comes from fear, but he does have two young girls in his care. I have no idea if he’s close to his sisters or not, but from what Lys’s journals have stated, she hardly knows her older brother. Lys is so opposite her older sister, and I can only imagine she has her own set of struggles. I shouldn’t speculate on any of them without knowing more about them, so I stop my internal postulation.

  Instead, I spend the next hour learning what I can.

  Both girls miss their parents for different reasons. Amaryllis is young enough to miss them just because, and Lena wants to go home because she had plans. I hear about Lena’s desire for college and Amaryllis’s love of drawing. They both tell me Leon loves to draw too, but they haven’t seen any of his sketches.

  “He’s always scribbling,” Lena snorted, waving a dismissive hand.

  When we’ve talked around the casual things, I suggest I do the dishes and recommend they work on homework. I’ve spent hours over the years in this same position of doing dinner dishes and helping Levi with his homework while he sits at the table.

  “I’m going out,” Lena announces, and Lys looks up at her sister.

  “Oh, where are you going?” It’s the wrong thing to ask as Lena narrows her eyes on me.

  “Just out.”

  “Do you tell Leon where you go?” Lys gazes at me with a doe-in-the-headlights look that pleads with me not to push her sister.

  “He doesn’t care,” Lena states with sass in her tone.

  With my hands holding plates, I stop and look at Lena—really look at her. Tight shirt exposing her middle. Hip-hugging jeans. Long midnight hair. Thick eye makeup. It’s a dangerous look for a girl her age because she’s seventeen going on twenty-five. I remember being her age, though I never had a body like hers, and I’m worried about her.

  “Oh, so you aren’t close to your brother?” I question, putting the plates on the counter and stoppering the sink to fill it.

  “We hardly know him. He was eighteen when I was born and already in trouble. By the time Lys was born, Leon was gone,” Lena explains while Lys lowers her head like she’s ashamed of something.

  “He moved out?” I question.

  “He left home. Dropped out of high school after Israel died.”

  “Who’s Israel?” I ask, and Lys’s head pops up. Another innocent look pleads with her sister to be quiet. Lena can’t see her sister with the back of her head, so she continues.

  “He was our brother, but we never knew him. He was killed when he was sixteen.”

  “Killed?” I fail at swallowing back the surprise, and Lena confirms his fate.

  “Shot dead right in front of the apartment where my parents lived at the time.”

  Oh, my God. It doesn’t sound real. This doesn’t happen to kids, but that’s the wishful side of me wanting every child safe. This type of violence has never happened to anyone in my circle, yet my heart aches for these girls I hardly know.

  “Did Leon . . .?” Did he witness it?

  “Mami says Israel and Leon were close. Best of friends. He didn’t handle Israel’s death very well,” Lys joins in, almost as if defending her older brother.

  “That’s an understatement,” Lena mocks, and I realize how adult they both sound about this experience. I’ve known nothing like their situation.

  “Like I said, we don’t know him. He didn’t come around much,” Lena explains, and it reminds me of our initial shift to this subject.

  “Leon does care,” I say, holding Lena’s dark eyes. “I bet he cares very much. If he lived through losing one sibling who was his best friend, maybe he’s just frightened he’ll mess up with both of you.” I don’t know if I’m making any sense to them. “You say you don’t know each other. Maybe he just can’t express himself very well. But he cares.” I’m not sure if I’m trying to assure her or defend him when the reality is, I know nothing of Leon’s emotional state. He must care, or he wouldn’t let both girls stay here, but I shouldn’t be speaking on his behalf.

  “He doesn’t act like it,” Lena says, crossing her arms. The move is a defensive stance I see often in my students.

  “He doesn’t. You’re right.” My response surprises her, and she turns her head to her sister and then back to me like, did you hear this?

  “He didn’t talk to you very nicely, but under that rough voice is a man who is scared for his sister. He’s in a new place too, and he doesn’t know everybody, so he wants to know where you go and who you are with to keep you safe.” I’m making this up. I have no idea. My brothers have never spoken to me like Leon did to Lena even though Jess can be gruff and moody. My eldest brother, Tom, doesn’t even know how to be serious, but I do know they are both worried about me, more so lately for my own safety. “I have two older brothers and an older sister.”

  I glance at Lys, who is watching me. Our birth order is the same, but I don’t know that I ever looked as innocent as her. I wanted to fit in with the big kids, and my gaze shifts to Lena. She wants to fit in by standing out.

  “Do me a favor. Can you tell your brother where you go? I’m asking because I do know this town, and as quiet as it seems, there are still some not-so-nice people here.” Trent comes to mind. He might be thirty, but he isn’t going to look away from a girl who looks twentysomething at the age of seventeen.

  “Not so nice . . .?” Lena drawls, rolling her throat. “This town knows nothing about being mean.”

  “That’s why I like it,” I say.

  “Me too,” Lys quietly agrees.

  “Do you want people to be mean?” I ask Lena curiously.

  “People here are just too nice,” she squeaks, shaking her head and exaggerating with flapping arms.

  “Well, I’ve known my share of mean people in this town, and I prefer the nice.”

  “Girl, you know nothing of meanness,” Lena huffs, and I want to expound. I’m on the edge of telling this girl who I don’t know about the shadows in the dark and how the reality of bleakness can exist even in a small town, but I clamp my lips. I haven’t told my family, so I’m not about to tell a teenage stranger, even if my goal is to protect her. I will not give up my story simply to prove a point.

  Lena and I lock eyes for a long minute. “I might know more than you think.” We continue to hold each other’s gaze, but I break first. I’m not going to pull the I’m-older-and-wiser card on her. It has no effect on kids her age. I should tell her what happened to me, but somehow, I don’t think my story will be the cautionary tale I want it to be for Lena Ramirez. She’ll think it’s child’s play, and she might be right. It’s one reason I’ve kept it to myself. I don’t want people judging me.

  You’re overreacting again, Trent would say. I didn’t want to prove him right.

  To my surprise, Lena stays home. Lys finishes her homework. She’s slowly getting the help she needs in school. We still don’t have her former school records and evaluative testing takes time. There’s so much documentation needed in the process to help an academically struggling child, but I’m grateful Leon gave us the consent to move forward. I’ve kept Lys after school or pulled her during study hall so she can get individualized attention from me or the special education teacher. Lys has shown dedication to improving herself, and that’s half the battle with a teen.

  She helps me put away the last of their dishes, and I’m just putting on my jacket when Leon walks back in their front door. His head shoots up, and his eyes meet mine, but I quickly look away.

  “I cleaned up your kitchen and put the leftovers in your fridge for you. The remainder I put in the freezer for the girls. Lena requested another tray and I promised next week I’d bring one over. They can let you know which night if you don’t want to be present, or I can have them over to my place.”

&n
bsp; He’s still watching me as I bend to pick up the empty duffel bag, which held the old coats. Hitching it over my shoulder, I stand at the same time, preparing to walk myself out.

  “I’ll walk you home,” he offers, and I snort.

  “I think I can handle a few feet on my own.”

  Stepping up to me, he blocks my exit. “I said I’d walk you. Just let me give something to Lys.”

  “I’m not arguing with you, Mr. Ramirez. It seems like your sisters hear enough arguing already.” I’m passing judgment on his earlier confrontation with Lena. I’m no parent myself, but there’s a way to handle teenagers, and yelling at them like Leon did isn’t helping their fragile relationship.

  “Now you’re dissecting how I handle my sisters? You’re suddenly best friends with them, are you?” he snaps, and I’m just done with this man. I don’t need this. I lean left, and he follows me. Shot blocked. I jerk right, but he anticipates my move and shifts with my body. However, I’ve learned a thing or two from him, and with a pivot, I curl around his large form, and I’m out the door before he finishes saying my name.

  Lesson 13

  A little tenderness goes a long way.

  [Leon]

  Fuck. She beat me at my own game.

  “I’ll be right back,” I holler at a startled Lys, who stands in the living room staring at the space where her teacher just vanished. I follow Tricia, slamming the front door because I’m pissed all over again even though I promised myself I would not react. I took a long ride, made one stop, and then came home when my stomach rumbled.

  Por qué eres tan terco, bebé? I hear my mother’s voice in my head. I didn’t know why I was stubborn, but I’d go on a hunger strike after something my father said or when I got grounded and didn’t think I’d done anything wrong.

  “Wait,” I call after Tricia, just as her feet hit her front porch. My legs are long, so I quickly cross the drive and take two large steps to clear her stairs. “Wait,” I say, catching her arm before she opens her door.