by Leanne Davis
Chapter Nine
~Emily~
Everyone is overreacting. All of them, including my parents and Ramiro. I expect it from my parents. I’m astonished to see the usually jovial, unserious jokester that Ramiro Vasquez has been to date get so serious about this. We enter our house and Christina and Max are there. She leans against the counter, obviously talking to my mom while Max flips through the channels on the TV. They come to attention when they spot Ramiro following behind me.
There’s a round of greetings and Christina puts her hand out as she approaches Ramiro. “Hi, I’m Christina, Emily’s older sister.” Her baby bump is more pronounced. She’s six months along now and her center of gravity has shifted. I am startled to realize my sister is going to be a mother soon.
Ramiro shakes her hand, tipping his head forward saying, “Ramiro Vasquez.”
Dad adds, “He’s been working for us.” I introduce my mom who smiles a friendly welcome.
Ramiro’s gaze stays fixed on my mom for a lengthy moment. Not sure why. He finally turns towards Max who jumps over the back of the couch and comes over. Max doesn’t like to be touched but he gives me a brotherly smile. “Emily, I hear you’re rocking the construction world as the newest and best laborer.” I scowl at him and he laughs as he nods at Ramiro and gives him a mock salute. “Hey, I’m Max, married to Christina.”
Ramiro responds in kind. “Ramiro.”
We file in and Dad leans over while washing his hands. “There was a problem tonight. Harrison again.”
Mom immediately jerks to attention from where she is chopping lettuce. “What problem?” Her gaze is pinned on me, examining my features as if to catalogue them and reassure herself that I’m fine.
“Dad, don’t over blow it. I called you for Ramiro’s well-being, not mine.”
Everyone gazes my way. Christina’s eyes widen. “Now I’m riveted. What did Ramiro do? Try to kick that jerk’s ass? Please tell me you flattened him.”
“Christina!” I exclaim. “You forget what I did to Harrison.”
She scowls harder at me. “Have you forgotten what he allowed his friends to do to you? He’s no longer a decent guy. Not in my book.”
Ramiro steps closer and we all gather around the center island in the kitchen. He’s behind me, so I can’t see his face but a warm blush creeps up my neck and cheeks just knowing he’s there. It’s rattling sometimes how aware I am of his presence. “No such luck. Mr. Hendricks showed up.”
“Start over. What happened?” Max asks.
“We were enjoying a beer after work at the Pine Crest and Harrison came up and started in again, saying how I’ve been ignoring his texts and messages and stuff. He started to get mad—”
“Have you?” my mom interrupts. Her knife still in her hand.
“Have I what?”
“Ignored his texts and messages?”
I shrug. “Of course. I have no reason to respond to that awful stuff.”
Her facial expression blanches. “Get me your phone.”
I slide it from my pocket and across the counter to her. Her expression is so fierce, I’m not sure if she’s mad at me or at Harrison. She takes a moment as my dad watches over her shoulder. With a loud groan, she asks, “Emily, why didn’t you tell us?”
“Tell you what?”
“That he’s been harassing you?”
“It’s nothing to fear. Just a bunch of rude messages to his ex-fiancée who ditched him at the altar. I know why he’s doing it. I don’t like it but I get his logic. I just choose to ignore it. I don’t even bother reading them.”
“Well, you should,” Mom says, her voice so slow it’s almost chilling. “He’s threatening you here and here.” She’s scanning through the feed. Wait until she listens to his voice mails.
Thankfully, the sliding door opens just then, saving me from a reply. Melissa comes in and stops dead. “Why didn’t anyone tell me we were having a party?” She comes forward, stealing a carrot off my mom’s cutting board and biting into it. Her eyes focus on Ramiro. “Oh, hey, I’m Melissa, Emily’s sister.” She leans across the counter, holding her hand out with a smile.
Ramiro steps forward and shakes her hand. “Ramiro Vasquez.”
Her eyes dart to mine. I can read her mind. I’ve never told her about anyone named Ramiro Vasquez and now she’s dying of curiosity. I pray she keeps her mouth shut. However, she isn’t known for her discretion. Years ago, she was diagnosed with ADHD, which she works very hard to manage, but her propensity for blurting out whatever’s on her mind is well documented.
“Nice to meet you, Ramiro. You a friend of Emily’s?” Her voice pauses at friend and I know she’s itching to grill me. My face is still hidden from Ramiro who stands behind me. My eyes are growing huge, just trying to get Missy to shut up. I want to play this cool. Her smile grows as she catches on that I’m totally embarrassed and stressed and she’s smart enough to know that means something.
“And I work for your dad.”
“Like Emily?” She backs up and leans against the counter opposite the island. “So what’s the occasion?”
Christina speaks up. “Just hearing about how Harrison has been harassing Emily again.”
Melissa straightens up. Her expression changes from mild interest to alarm. “Oh, no. Like what?” Christina explains and Melissa immediately comes over to me and wraps me up in a hug. She’s bigger than me and easily holds me. “That stupid fuckhead.” She glances at my parents and mumbles, “Sorry.” She and I often fight and bicker like cats and dogs, but I’m touched by her concern and fierce reaction on my behalf.
“No, no. I’m fully in agreement,” Christina adds. “What happened tonight?”
I glance up at Ramiro after Melissa lets me go. “Ramiro stepped in and told him to take a hike and Harrison got pretty heated.”
“And so was I,” Ramiro adds quietly.
I nod. “Yes, so I thought to call Dad. And it worked. Not only to defuse Harrison, who said a few choice words, but he left. I was just afraid he’d…”
“He’d what?” Mom prods.
“I don’t know, start looking at Ramiro in ways that aren’t fair. I was afraid Harrison would take out his anger and revenge on Ramiro when it’s me he wants to punish. You didn’t see his face.”
Everyone seems puzzled by my answer. I sigh. He explains for me.
“She was worried he’d take a look into my citizenship or lack thereof. And perhaps cause problems with the authorities for me.”
“Well, she did the right thing no matter what.” And then beaming with pride at me, Melissa says, “I love how quickly you think on your feet. The emasculating knee to the balls the first time and now this.”
“Back to this,” Mom holds up the phone. Her expression is full of distress. “It’s not funny.”
I swiftly move around the counter and embrace her. “Mom, really, it’s not that big of deal. It’s Harrison. He’s not going to do anything to me.”
“He already has,” she says quietly. She pushes back and stares at me. “You are missing the point. He already is doing something. He’s threatening you in ways he feels entitled to. Don’t tell me you don’t see that?”
“Well… I mean, I do see that. But it’s just his anger… his hatred toward me. Not real violence.”
The entire room is quiet at my statement. Uncomfortable tension. Mom brushes some wisps of hair off my forehead. “Violence. We talked about the first time Harrison and his friends cornered you. It wasn’t like when I was kidnapped, but they did it to intimidate you. You think continued threats such as this,” she waves the phone, “aren’t an extension of those themes? His goal is to intimidate you into paralysis.”
My mom flicks a gaze at Ramiro. “Forgive my bluntness. There is history here.”
“He knows some of it,” I say softly. My entire family instantly straightens up and tenses. Yes, that little admission probably suggests Ramiro Vasquez isn’t just a beer buddy who happened to witness my encounter with Harri
son. I don’t talk about my family’s past with anyone. Not my friends. Not even Harrison.
That thought sobers me. Why did I tell Ramiro the very second day after I met him? I shake my head. I have an extraordinary connection with him. Almost an instant rapport on my end and a crazy amount of trust. Including the story about my mom.
“Emily, I think you need to listen to Mom.” I glance at Melissa who so seldom sounds serious. I blink in surprise. “Please? I don’t want anything to happen to you. And wouldn’t she know?”
“But maybe we’re overreacting. It’s Harrison,” I repeat sarcastically.
“Better safe than sorry for it later. Especially with a man whose injured feelings have morphed into rage, anger, humiliation, which he blames you for causing.”
“I did cause them,” I add softly.
“But you don’t deserve any harm because of it. He can be as angry as he wants, but he doesn’t get to direct his rage at you, not like this,” Christina adds.
“Emily, you know I’m not going to let this stand,” Dad announces. His tone is soft, almost sweet and gentle as he says my name. But his eyes? Like steel marbles. Cold and hard. His jaw is clenched. My eyes widen in response.
“Dad, there is nothing you can do. He hasn’t actually done anything physically to me.”
“I’m not waiting around for him to do something physically to you. Something that would make you understand what we all see.”
I glance at Ramiro. “You’re not as involved in this. Do you see what they see?”
Ramiro’s expression goes from serious to surprise at my question being directed at him. His eyes glance at my family, especially my dad, then back at me. “Well… yeah. That’s why I reacted the way I did. It wasn’t just male pride. The guy wouldn’t let you go. Maybe because he is the quintessential WASP, you don’t expect him to get violent, but…” He shrugs.
“And your own aunt was beaten within an inch of her life by the same type. Actually, she endured domestic violence for years by someone just like that,” Max adds, his tone as serious as the rest of them.
My shoulders slump. “Well? What do you want me to do?”
“Maybe you should stay with Natalie for a few weeks. Let this die down. Try and figure out what you want to do with the rest of your life while you’re at it.” My jaw hits the floor at Melissa’s practical suggestion. Not Missy’s thing in the past.
My mom straightens up. “That’s a good idea. Better than whatever your dad is planning right now in his head. It might behoove us to remove the opportunity, lest he follow his plan. You can’t imagine the trouble he could cause,” Mom says, and she is not kidding.
“That’s stupid. Why should I have to leave home?”
“Perhaps just to take a vacation? California might be fun,” I glance up when Ramiro’s voice adds that. I hold his gaze.
“You need a vacation, too?”
I turn towards my dad. What. The. Hell? But yes, my dad is speaking to Ramiro.
“Um… well… I can’t exactly…”
“I could pay you. Vacation leave. Take Emily down to her sister’s. That might make her actually go. And when you get back, I’ve got as much work as you want.”
“Dad!” I can’t believe my dad just offered that.
Ramiro glances over at me. “You don’t need to pay me. Sure. I would like to visit California.”
“Well, we would cover all the expenses. And a guaranteed job when you return.”
My dad’s tone is final and firm, as if Ramiro is his new best friend. I glare at all of them. Oh, my God. But then, I’m kind of unsettled too by how seriously they consider it. But most convincing to me is Ramiro. If not for his concern, I’d blow them off. He’s usually so jovial and easy going that I doubt he ever worries at all.
“Just consider it. Why don’t we eat?” Mom breaks the tension. It’s instantly assumed Ramiro is staying. Everyone relaxes, and starts moving around and chitchatting. I glance at Ramiro who is staring at my dad with a puzzled expression on his face.
I touch his forearm. “That was so bizarre. I hope you don’t take any offense to his offer to pay you like—”
“No. I get it. He’s worried about your safety. Not sure why he’d trust me with it, however.”
“Because you defended me tonight.” I glance down, almost embarrassed now by the intensity of his gaze. “You protected me. That means something to my dad.”
“And to you? Does it mean anything to you?”
I suck in a breath, wondering how to reply. I hold his gaze, swallowing hard. I feel almost flushed by the intensity of what he says. Caving, I drop my gaze.
His hand is on the counter, close to mine. I feel his pinkie finger touching the side of my hand. My entire body tenses and reacts to his little finger. It’s crazy. He’s doing almost nothing but I suddenly flush and my stomach tightens. It seems like so much more. So, so, so much more. I can’t get a grip. I’m blushing and too embarrassed to glance up at him. “Yes. I’m glad you were there and here, too.”
My pinkie moves and hooks onto his. It’s so juvenile. And innocuous. Then I straighten up and try to get a grip and act my age. We sit down to tacos and refried beans. I feel Ramiro’s gaze on me when I realize what my mom is slicing the lettuce up for. His mouth curls up. It’s kind of funny, considering. Ramiro sees the irony and it makes him laugh too. I like that about him. I like the way we can stare across a table and communicate with only our eyes. Simple, ordinary interactions with Ramiro are usually tinged with teasing and fun. He makes my stomach ache from laughter sometimes and I roar at all the jokes. There is a crazy connection between us.
Later, Melissa goes home after saying that Seth was studying and she just wanted to give him a few hours alone to concentrate. Then Christina and Max go home. My parents retire to their room and it’s just Ramiro and me left in the living room. I’m grateful at times to be the youngest daughter. Things like this could never happen to Christina, who bore the brunt of my dad’s crazy, overprotective nature. By the time Harrison and I started hanging out alone together as boyfriend and girlfriend, Dad either gave up or was resigned to it all. Melissa’s flaky and numerous boyfriends before Seth were awful, and they too helped elevate my judgment in comparison.
The room is too quiet now. Nerves are building up inside me. Which is silly. So often, we’ve been alone together. From the very first night we met. But it feels so different tonight.
He stares at me. I can feel his gaze boring into mine. I rise to get a glass of water just to give me something to do and try to shake off the suddenly tense moment. The air feels heavy between us. I let the tap run and fill the glass and drink. Then I refill it and sip before setting it down. When I turn, Ramiro is behind me, stealth-like. I jump and a startled exclamation escapes my lips. “Oh.” I sound so insipid, even I cringe.
“You going to Natalie’s?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“I’ll take you.”
“Don’t you need to work?”
“Not if your dad guarantees me a spot when I return.”
“Well, you can pretty much bet your firstborn on that coming true.”
His hand touches my cheek. “I think you should heed their concern. They have a decent solution for you to consider. It couldn’t hurt, just for a few weeks.” I stare up at him, entranced, my eyes feeling huge at his soft touch. It’s so tender, and quite the opposite of how he’s treated me to date. Not so much friendly as reverent, almost. “I don’t want to see anything happen to you either.”
I lick my lips. I doubt anything will. But to appease everyone, even Ramiro, I am trying to understand it. “But I don’t believe anything will. Despite their concerns, I know Harrison the best and I doubt very seriously that I’m in real danger. I think Harrison has to work out his anger and humiliation. His aggression towards me is valid, but I believe that’s the extent of any retaliation he might have in mind.”
“And what if you’re wrong? Let’s say he catches you alone in one
of those moments where he feels righteous in his anger and goes too far? I think the point your parents are making is that you seem programmed to respond that his behavior isn’t that bad. Like it could be so much worse. How do you know for sure? If he’ll go this far, what makes you think he won’t cross the line? And why should he decide how far is too far? If you don’t want your arm held so tightly you can’t pull it free, why would you accept that?”
I frown. I don’t know. I’m confused. I mean, I know what rape is. I know what abuse is, but where do you draw the line? This isn’t clear-cut and Harrison isn’t actually doing anything. They talk as if it’s all a precursor to terrible, torturous behavior. Sure, it makes me uncomfortable. Is Ramiro saying I’m so conditioned that I accept feeling uncomfortable because Harrison is justified in his anger? Am I that forgiving? Guilty for making him a victim? Shamed into accepting things I shouldn’t? Yes, I feel all those things after what I did to Harrison. But does that give him the right to punish me in ways that makes me wince? I recall the shivers of something very close to fear rippling through me at the moment I had to act. Then, later I try to tell myself my reaction was too extreme. I mean, I wasn’t raped. I wasn’t hit. But I think that’s Ramiro’s point. It isn’t okay to make me feel like that. Even if it isn’t rape, it isn’t okay either.
The line is still fuzzy to me.
Ramiro is staring at me tonight and his usual lightheartedness is missing. His fingertips rub the side of my face as my gaze remains on his. I can’t seem to pry my eyes away as ripples of attraction and embarrassment filter through me. I’m feeling his gaze and it’s making me curl my toes and giving me hot and cold chills. It’s too soon. I can’t feel this already. It can’t be real. He’s my friend. The only one I have right now. I can’t ruin that. Not while I’m still confused over a broken engagement. I am totally flummoxed as to why I let myself go so far into that situation, never mind what I want to do from here forward.
The air between us sizzles. How did he get so close to me? I didn’t notice him even move, but now my backside is leaning against the kitchen counter and he’s right in front of me. I can’t move without pushing against him. His body blocks out the room and fills all my senses. I am staring up at his dark eyes until my gaze slides to his mouth and the muscles of his neck. My breath catches.
