by Ann Steinke
“What time should I come around?” Lou asked.
“My parents should be gone by six thirty,” I said.
“Okay,” he said. “Well, I guess I’d better take you home now. It’s getting late and don’t you work now on Sundays?”
“Ugh, yes,” I said with a glance at my watch. “In one hour.”
Lou started his truck and headed for my house. But then he pulled over about a block before we got there and took me into his arms once again and kissed me.
I ran the rest of the way home and entered the house quietly. I was elated on the one hand, but I also felt trampled down by guilt. I knew no word strong enough to describe how Ter would feel if she found out about me and Lou. Guys had always taken advantage of Ter, and I had always been the one who helped her get over them. I had always looked out for her. And now, here I was, taking part in a plan that could hurt her more than all those guys combined.
It’s kind of depressing to find out that you have the capacity for deception. I never thought I had the skill to be sneaky. But I did. Monday morning I managed to act perfectly normal when Ter picked me up. Fortunately Ter was still excited about our successful gig at the coffeehouse, so I was able to steer the conversation in that direction, and I wasn’t forced to talk about Lou.
But every period at school that day seemed to last as long as a year. I left each class not remembering anything the teacher had said. I couldn’t even remember if they’d assigned any homework. All I could think about was my date with Lou, and I counted the minutes until six thirty.
Lou drove up to the curb outside my house right on time, and I sprinted out to his truck. I didn’t want any of our nosy neighbors to see who was picking me up, in case any of them decided to say something to my parents.
“Hi!” I said, jumping into his truck with a huge grin on my face.
He gave me a warm, reassuring smile, then leaned over and pecked me on the cheek. As soon as he had put the truck into gear, he took my hand and held it. “I thought we could go see a movie,” he said. “Is that all right with you?”
“Perfect,” I said.
We chose a theater out of the way to lessen the chances of running into anyone we knew. It was also a school night, so we figured most of our friends would be staying home. I don’t think either of us saw much of the movie, though. Throughout the film we just held each other and kissed. It was as if we both had an endless supply of pent-up emotion, accumulated over the past weeks.
We exited the mall and headed for Lou’s truck. On the way home, I sat close to him and laid my head on his shoulder.
“Remember the last movie we saw?” I asked, lifting my head and looking at him.
He nodded. “Yeah. What about it?”
“Remember when your leg touched mine?”
He looked at me with a crooked smile on his face. “Yeah.”
“Did you do that on purpose?”
He smiled.
“I thought so,” I said, placing my head back on his shoulder.
“I wanted to touch you so badly,” he explained, “and I couldn’t think of any other way to do it.”
We turned onto my street, and he parked a block away from my house as he had the night before. We huddled in the dark, talking.
“So your father owns that store you work in?” I asked.
Lou nodded.
“You look a little like him,” I said, examining his features. “But you look more like your mom.”
“Yeah, that’s what everyone says,” he said. “She’s only half Mexican, you know. The other half’s Italian.”
“Oh, really?”
He nodded.
“And you have a sister and two brothers, right?” I asked.
“Yep,” he said. “And I’m the baby. My dad calls me the runt of his litter, and sometimes he just calls me Runt, like it’s a name.”
I laughed. “And you’re taller than he is.”
“I’m taller than all the rest of them, too,” he said, laughing. Then suddenly he sobered.
“What is it?” I asked.
He answered abruptly. “Nothing.”
I tried to read the expression on his face, but the darkness obscured his features, and he wouldn’t meet my gaze. Then I remembered how his mood had changed the day we were having a picnic on the beach. Both Scott and Lou had clammed up at the mention of one of Lou’s brothers—Roberto. I swallowed and placed a hand on his arm. “Lou,” I said gently, “maybe it’s none of my business, but what is it about your brother Roberto?”
“What do you mean?” he said defensively.
“I mean, your mood suddenly changed when his name came up at the beach the other day,” I said tentatively. “And now that we’re talking about your family, something seems to be bothering you.”
He looked out the window on his side, and I wondered if he was trying to hide his face from me. I reached out and touched his chin, turning his head back toward me. He looked at me with a haunted expression.
“Lou, it’s all right,” I said. “You don’t have to—”
“Okay, here’s the story,” he said, cutting me off. His mouth was set in a tight line, and his voice sounded cold and distant. I tensed. “Roberto’s the second child in my family. He’s nineteen,” he began evenly. “When he was fifteen, he got mixed up with the wrong crowd and started doing drugs. He eventually left home and moved to L.A. He started dealing there. Then he got caught—not just once, but three times. The last time he was carrying a knife and he injured an officer—”
I gasped. “No!”
“The cop almost died,” he went on. “Anyway, now he’s doing time.”
I squeezed his hand. “I’m so sorry, Lou,” I said. “Your parents must have been devastated.”
Lou laughed bitterly. “Oh, yeah. My mother cried for weeks. And my dad . . .” He paused and took a deep breath. “He considers my brother dead. The day they arrested him the last time, Dad went on a rampage in the room I shared with him, throwing everything that belonged to Roberto out in the trash. He even went through the photo albums and burned every picture he could find of Roberto.”
I listened in horror as Lou continued speaking. Every word he uttered seemed to have been ripped from his throat.
“I thought he’d lost his mind,” he said. “He could remove everything from our house that reminded us of Roberto, but didn’t he understand that he could never remove him from our hearts?”
I heard his voice crack just before he spoke his last words. And I hugged him fiercely for a long time.
Then I felt his muscles begin to relax a bit, and I loosened my grip around him. “So that’s the skeleton in my closet,” he said in falsely hearty tone of voice.
“Why do you think your father reacted that way?” I asked.
Lou slouched down in his seat. “Because he used to live in a barrio in L.A., and he hated the way society never expected Chicanos to do well,” he explained. “He moved the family up here when I was four, and he and my mother have struggled to make a good life for us.”
I listened intently, trying to grasp what he was saying.
“All our lives he taught us how important it was to improve ourselves,” Lou said. “He expected us to try as hard as we could in school. . . . I’ve always tried to live up to my father’s expectations.”
“And is that difficult?” I asked.
“Sometimes there’s a lot of pressure,” he replied. “My father always used to say, ‘We Chicanos have to be better than everyone else just so they’ll think we’re half as good.’ He told us that so often that we got sick of hearing it.” He paused as if he were recalling a specific scene from years ago. “So after a while I just stopped listening. But Roberto started to become unglued. . . . I think he just rebelled too much. Anyway, what he did was a slap in the face to our father.”
I remained silent, because I really didn’t know what to say. Lou’s life seemed so outside my realm of experience.
He squeezed me tightly against him. �
�Thanks for understanding about Roberto,” he said. “Sometimes my other brother, Raul, and I go to visit him, but we don’t tell Dad. He’s not that far from here.”
“Do you go often?” I asked.
“The last time I went was that Monday I came by Taco Bell and found you working on your off night. Remember?”
“Yeah.”
“And remember when you and Teresa came up to me after orchestra—the day Scott didn’t show up in class?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Well, I went to see him that day too,” he said. “In fact, I know I was acting funny that day—kind of distracted, and Ter was giving me confused looks.” He laughed. “I always get uptight just before seeing Roberto. I’m sorry if I seemed rude.”
“Does Ter know about this?”
“No. I don’t talk about it much,” he said. “I’m not exactly proud of what he did. But he’s still my brother, and I . . . I love him.”
We were silent for a while, but then I noticed the time on the lighted dial on the dashboard. It was almost ten thirty, and since the library closed at nine, I knew I’d have some heavy-duty excuse making to do at home.
“I better go,” I said. “It’s so late my parents are going to subject me to intense questioning.”
Lou glanced at the clock. “Yeah, it is getting late,” he said, opening the door on his side. He jumped out of the truck, came around to open my door, and lifted me down to the ground. Then he kissed me slowly, his fingers combing through my long hair. Both my arms were wrapped around his neck, and I didn’t want to let go. His lips were warmer and sweeter than I had ever experienced before. Finally, we parted.
“Good night, Krista,” he whispered.
“Good night,” I said. “And thanks.”
He smiled and gave a small wave before getting back into his truck.
I ran toward the house and immediately saw that the lights in the living room were on and my father was sitting in his chair. Oh no, he’s waiting, I thought. With my heart sinking into the pit of my stomach, I opened the door and went to face the jury.
“What I said was that I ran into a friend I hadn’t talked to in a while, and we sat in her car and caught up on things.” I had called Lou from the pay phone at work, and I was explaining to him what I’d said to my parents the night before. I’d found a note in my locker from Lou at school that day. Call me from work tonight, it read. I’ll be home. What happened with your folks?
“Very skillful,” he said in approval.
I laughed. “Thanks.”
“It’s going to be rough practicing Thursday night, you know,” he said, switching gears on me.
“I know,” I answered. “I just hope we can handle it.”
Thursday night was worse than rough. It was torture. I was trying not to look at Lou, and I knew he was probably trying not to look at me. I wanted to throw myself into the music, but even that was difficult because we were practicing a new piece for the next gig and we were constantly stopping midway through the song. It was a duet, and somehow I had convinced Ter and Scott to try it together. “Just so we have some variety,” I had said.
Ter’s soprano voice seemed to complement Scott’s baritone quite well. So when they finally got through the first take, I said, “You guys sound like your voices were made for each other.” Even to my own ears, I sounded overly enthusiastic, and I realized that it was wishful thinking that had made me say that to them. I wanted them to be together instead of me and Scott. I wanted them to be a pair.
They looked at me and then each other, and shrugged. “We’re not that good together,” Scott said.
Ter turned to Lou. “Maybe we ought to try singing together,” she suggested.
Oh, help, I thought when I saw him nod in agreement. No. I can’t stand to watch this.
But I did.
And I made it through the entire practice that night, through school the next day, and through Ter driving me to and from work Friday night. It cost me, though. When I went to bed on Friday night, I was so exhausted I felt as if I could sleep for a year.
Then just when I thought my endurance had been stretched to the limit, things got worse.
“I want to go out with just you, and not with Lou and Teresa,” Scott said to me after a practice session Saturday morning.
I stared at him, speechless for an instant. “Uh . . . okay,” I said lamely.
Scott frowned, looking at me as if I were a stranger. Then his mouth quirked. “How about tonight?” he asked. Kevin’s having a party at his house. Want to go?”
Kevin Nakasawa was a pretty good friend of his, so I figured the party might be important to Scott. “Okay,” I said, trying to infuse some enthusiasm into my voice.
“Pick you up at six then?” he said.
I nodded and smiled in spite of the fact that I really didn’t feel like going.
Ter and Lou were working out a practice schedule for the next week. It was going to be very tricky. Lou had to work the nights Ter and I were free, so we were going to have to squeeze practice in between when school ended at three forty till one of us had to go to work at five. And my violin practice was really going to suffer. I hadn’t had much time to practice violin in the past two weeks. Whenever I picked it up in orchestra, I wanted to strum it like a guitar. I knew I had to get with the program soon or else Mr. Marsh was going to regret his decision to let me into the class.
“It’s so great that you and Scott are going out tonight,” Ter said to me on the way home from Lou’s. “I wish Lou didn’t have to work or we could go out alone, too,” she added wistfully. It took all my acting ability to give Ter the impression that I was sorry she couldn’t be with Lou that night, but I think I managed to seem sincere.
And it took all my acting ability to pretend I was having fun with Scott that night. Kevin’s house was packed with kids from school. They spilled out onto the patio, and a game of volleyball was in progress in his backyard. I followed Scott as he made his way through the house toward the patio where the food was set up. “Man, I’m famished. You hungry?”
“Sort of,” I answered. I waved to Cathy, who was on the other side of the patio talking to Kevin, and the two of them came toward us.
“Hi guys,” Kevin said as he approached. “I hear you have a band going. What are the chances of hearing you play?”
I watched Scott closely. “Yeah, there are four of us in the band,” he said blandly. “And, uh, there might be a chance to see us soon. I’ll let you know.”
My mouth dropped open. Why hadn’t Scott mentioned the coffeehouse gig? I wondered. What was the big secret?
Kevin nodded. “Okay. Let me know,” he said. “I’d love to see you.” He went off to fill a plate with food, and Scott followed. I really didn’t have much of an appetite, so I turned my attention to Cathy.
She was looking at me with shining blue eyes. “Every girl in school is so envious of you,” she said. “So many girls would die to have Scott interested in them.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised.
“Of course. He’s a great catch.” Cathy raised her eyebrows and grinned. “You’re so lucky to have him. Of course, I happen to think he’s pretty lucky to have you too.” She leaned in closer. “People think you look great together.”
“That’s good, I suppose,” I said, smiling in spite of the discomfort her remark had caused me. “Well, I guess I’d better go join him now,” I said. Scott had taken his food over to the side of the patio, and he was signaling for me to come over.
I sat down next to him while he ate. “Why didn’t you tell Kevin about the gig in Avila?” I asked in a low voice. “I thought he was a good friend of yours.”
Scott frowned. “I want to make sure we play better than we did last time before we have kids from school see us.” He must have caught the astounded look on my face, because he went on to explain. “I mean, we did have a few flubs, didn’t we? I just think we should really get our act together before people we know hear us.”
For the rest of the evening, I sat on the patio with Scott, wishing I was someplace else. Part of me still tried to act like a perfect date. But another part counted the seconds until we could leave. And when Scott finally took me home and kissed me good night, it took everything I had to act as though I was enjoying it.
I stepped out of my clothes when I got up to my room, feeling totally worthless. I was completely shortchanging Scott, and he certainly didn’t deserve it. But if I called it off with him, then I might cause the band to break up. I enjoyed playing in the band and I knew the other three loved it, too. I didn’t want to be the person responsible for destroying a good thing.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
On Sunday afternoon Ter had to baby-sit her little brother. He was sick with the flu, running a temperature of 103, and there was no way she could leave him alone. When she told me this over the phone, I was relieved. Ter would be tied up for the day, and she couldn’t even ask me to come over because I could catch the virus from Ricardo. So I was spared from coming up with an excuse for not spending time with her, and I was free to call up Lou to see if he wanted to do anything. As it turned out, Lou was free too, and he suggested that we drive over to Morro Bay.
The huge boulders at the base of Morro Rock have always been a favorite climbing place of mine, and I discovered that Lou loved it there, too. We held hands and clambered all over the giant rocks, laughing like little kids. Then we stood on the rocks by the ocean and watched monstrous waves crash below us. The white froth sprayed us, and sea gulls wheeled overhead, calling to each other.
After about an hour, we left the rocks and walked over to the beach. Some guys in wet suits were surfing in the waves, but otherwise no one else was around. We sat in the sand, holding hands and looking out at the bay and the ocean beyond. The surf pounded only thirty feet away, and fluffy white clouds scudded across the sky. I had never felt so alive. I had never felt so deliriously happy. I closed my eyes and willed time to stop so that the day would never end.
