by Rebecca Shea
“I did. I finally feel rested,” she says, and I know she’s lying. She still looks exhausted. Stabbing a piece of cashew chicken, she pulls it from the fork with her teeth. “This is really good. I guess I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”
I’m just glad she’s eating. We sit quietly, picking at our food. The only sounds are the metal forks scraping against the glass plates.
“Did you get what you needed from the office?” she asks, taking another bite of chicken.
I shrug and take a drink of water before responding. “I did.”
“You were gone a long time,” she says, looking at me skeptically.
“I was. I got pulled into a couple of briefings—”
“Do they have any information?” she asks as she wipes her mouth with a napkin.
I shake my head no and push food around my plate. We sit quietly, the mood heavy around us.
“I know we have a lot to talk about,” I say, finally breaking the silence. I twist my body around so I’m looking at her. Her hand stills before setting the fork down on her plate. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions, and when you’re ready to talk, Em, I’ll tell you everything.”
“Promise?” Her face tells me she’s wary. “You won’t lie or hold back?”
I shake my head once. “I won’t.”
She feigns a small smile for me. Pushing the blanket off of her, she swings her legs off the couch and carries her plate to the kitchen. I’m happy and surprised when I see her helping herself to a second serving of fried rice and cashew chicken. Her long, skinny legs peek out from under short cut-off jean shorts, and she wobbles a little as she steps over me and back to her spot on the couch. I never realized how skinny she was before, but the bones of her shoulders are obvious as well. No wonder Alex was so concerned about her eating—and now she’s eating for two.
I reach for the television remote control and push the power button. “How about some Netflix?”
She looks at me like a deer caught in the headlights. “Net huh?” she asks with a mouth full of fried rice. I almost laugh at the sound she makes.
“Netflix. You can watch movies, television shows, all from the comfort of your couch. It’ll be your new best friend, trust me.”
She casts me a sideways glance at the words “trust me.” Obviously, I don’t blame her. I wasn’t entirely honest with her about my association with Alex and the Estrada family.
“So what do you recommend?” She twists the cap off of her water bottle.
“What do you like? Scary? Romantic? Comedy?”
“Not scary. I don’t like horror or blood.” She shivers when she says that. I don’t blame her there either. She’s been living in a nightmare these last few months. She’s seen enough blood to last her a lifetime.
“How about funny? Dodgeball!” I say excitedly. “It’s got Ben Stiller and Vince Vaughn. It’s hilarious.”
She looks at me like I have two heads, and I feel guilty once again. “Sure. I have no clue who they are, but I could use a laugh.”
It’s then that I see the sadness in her eyes, the worry she carries on her shoulders, weighing her spirit down. I want to take away all of her pain if she’ll let me. Settling in, I sit on the opposite end of the couch and she lies on her side, resting her head on the arm of the couch. Her knees are pulled up and tucked in close to her chest. She looks so innocent, so naïve. Only I know better. This girl has seen more in her short life than most will see in a lifetime.
For the next hour and a half, my attention is split between the movie and the beautiful girl on other end of my couch. She makes attempts to laugh at the funny parts, but I can tell her heart isn’t into it. By the time the credits roll, her eyes have closed and her lips are slightly parted, her chest rising and falling in a steady pattern. I’m glad she’s sleeping again. She needs it.
With a sigh, I shut off the TV and pull the blanket off of her, folding it and placing it back on the sofa. Sliding my arms under her back and her knees, I easily lift her and walk her down the dark hall to my bedroom. She can have the bed again; I’ll take the couch. One more glance at her under my comforter and I leave her to rest. And as I lie on my couch, I make plans to buy a bed for the spare bedroom. It’s time anyway. It’s been empty since I bought this place.
As I stare up at my ceiling, I feel my thoughts and emotions wrestling to break free. Anger, sadness, resentment, hostility, and even guilt settle in. I’m angry with Alex for bringing Emilia into this mess. I’m sad. I lost my brother, and even though we’re still enemies, I miss him. And it’s all my father’s fault. All of it.
My anger for him burns the hottest. Just thinking of him being out there and still free to conduct his “business” has me tensing with fury. He was the one that tore Alex and me apart. He was the one that murdered our mother. And if it’s the last thing I do, I will kill him with my bare hands.
Suddenly, a tiny voice in the dark startles me. “Sam.” I hear her feet softly shuffle across the floor as she comes into view.
“What’s wrong, Em?”
“I can’t sleep.”
“You’ve only been in bed for twenty minutes.”
She sits down on the end of the couch near my feet, and I push myself up.
“Can I ask you something?” she asks shyly.
I swallow hard. I promised her the truth and that’s what she’ll get. “Of course.”
“What happened to your family?”
I never knew such a tiny question could make me feel so vulnerable. Her voice is so small, so desperate. I want to tell her, but… We sit in the dark facing each other. Maybe it’s easier to tell the truth in the dark. You can hide the emotions on your face—no one can see your fear, your hurt, and your despair.
“God, Emilia…” I trail off and wonder how to even explain it. “My mom was the glue. That woman loved Alex and me more than anything. She was the best mom—” My voice breaks, and I clear my throat, shoving down my emotions. “When my dad started his business, I remember them fighting often. She cried a lot and used to talk to my tia about how scared she was. She hated the business. She hated guns and drugs. My dad didn’t care. It was always about money to him.”
Emilia shifts on the end of the couch and pulls her legs up under her. I watch her for a moment to make sure she’s okay hearing all of this, then I continue. “Alex was the one that found my mom. I’ll never forget that day.” I run my hands over my face and press the tears back into my eyes. “He ran home from school when she wasn’t outside waiting for us. He knew something was wrong—and so did I, but I was a coward. I was afraid to go home. He ran and didn’t stop running until he got there. By the time I finally got home, I could hear Alex screaming inside the house. Screaming and crying, and I watched my dad from the driveway. He was sitting on the front steps, smoking a cigarette… And when he looked at me, I saw nothing but pure evil.” I can’t believe I even acknowledged Antonio was my father.
“So what happened? How did you end up with your aunt and uncle?”
“They took both Alex and me, and tried to keep things as normal as possible for us. Taking us to school, picking us up, making sure we went to church. Father Mark really stepped in to make sure we were handling everything okay mentally. He’d pull us from class, to talk to us… I guess almost counsel us.” I remember this fondly and am so thankful we had him.
“I can’t believe you’ve known Father Mark for that long.”
I blow a puff of air from through my lips. “I know. That old man is the one person, the only person I’ve ever trusted other than my aunt and uncle. Anyway, my aunt and uncle wanted to become Alex and my legal guardians. They knew what my dad was doing and didn’t want us in that environment. My aunt begged Antonio to let us stay with her, but he wouldn’t leave Alex.” I choke back the hate I have for my father.
“Why?” There’s a sadness in her voice as she questions me.
“He always loved him more, I guess. If that’s what love is. I don’t think my father, I
mean, Antonio really even knows what love is.” My heart drops when I admit this openly to Emilia. Even though I hate my father now, as a child, I wanted nothing more than his love and acceptance.
“I’m sorry,” she says quietly.
“Don’t be. I was the lucky one. My aunt and uncle did an amazing job raising me. They gave me everything I ever needed and more. The day Antonio took Alex home with him was the last day Alex ever talked to me. He switched schools and life just moved on for us.” I remember the hurt I felt at losing my brother. He was the one person I had left, my other half.
“I feel bad for both of you,” she whispers.
I swallow hard. “I always felt bad for Alex, but that sympathy vanished when I found out he was following in Antonio’s footsteps. I think it was in high school. I overhead my aunt and uncle talking about it late one night. They’d heard from family that Antonio was priming Alex to take over. That was the day I decided I’d do anything in my power to bring that organization down. I went to college and worked my ass off. Graduated and applied as a special agent for the ATF, which brings me to where I am today.”
We sit in the dark, silence now filling the space between us. I’ve bled all my dark family secrets to Emilia and while it should feel good to get it off my chest, it doesn’t. I’m just—sad. Minutes turn to hours, and we remain silent, taken in by the comfort of each other’s presence.
As the first hint of the morning sunrise peeks through the glass patio doors, Emilia clears her throat. “Sam?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m scared,” she says weakly. I want to pull her to me and wrap her in my arms, but I refrain.
“I know you are. But I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”
I wonder to myself how many times she’s heard that lie, and if I’ll ever be able to truly protect her.
I REACH MY arms above my head and exhale slowly while I stretch. It takes me a few minutes to wake up as the fog in my head begins to clear. The clock on the nightstand reads twelve thirty-four, and I hastily kick the soft sheet off of me. I can’t believe I slept past noon.
The house is quiet as I peek around, looking for Sam. Through the glass patio doors, I see him sitting on the back porch. His broad build is shadowed by a large wooden pergola covered in a flowery vine, and he looks distracted as he types away on his laptop at the patio table.
Glancing over his shoulder, he catches me standing there and gestures for me to come outside. I’m greeted with a blast of hot air when I step out, although it’s comfortable in the shade.
“Did you sleep okay?” he asks before pulling a glass of orange juice to his lips.
“I did. I can’t believe it’s already this late.” I slink down into a wrought-iron chair padded in a thick cushion. I’m not used to sleeping late. I was either up early for work or to take care of my mom. I’ve never had the luxury of sleeping the day away.
“What can I make you to eat?” he asks with a smile. I appreciate Sam always looking out for me and being so attentive. Pushing his laptop aside, he rests his forearms on the table.
My stomach grumbles at the thought of food, and suddenly, I’m craving Rosa’s Belgian waffles. Rosa. My heart stills when I think of her. I have no way of getting in touch with her, not that I would be allowed to.
“Sam, did you know Rosa, Alex’s housekeeper?”
“I didn’t know her personally, but we know of her. We’ve investigated everyone that’s ever worked for the Estrada family.”
“And…” I drawl, wanting him to spill the beans on what he has on Rosa.
“And we found nothing. She seems to be legitimate. Why do you ask?”
I contemplate what I should say, if anything at all. Despite his kindness, I’m still wary of Sam. I know I need to trust him, I’m supposed to, but I’m not sure I can. “She made the best Belgian waffles.” I reply simply, leaving it at that.
“You want waffles?” he asks with a hopeful smile.
“It’s more than waffles. I miss her. I grew close to her in the short time I was at Alex’s. I guess I’m worried about her too. She was kind of a mother figure to Alex, and I wonder how she’s handling all of this.”
Sam sits back in his chair and inhales sharply. “I see,” he says, rubbing his chin. His eyes shift back and forth between me and his glass of orange juice. “I don’t know where Rosa is or how she’s doing, Em.”
“Can you find her?” My voice hitches with hopefulness.
He hesitates. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, honestly.”
“Why?”
“Em, I’m trying to keep you away from that life. Yeah, she wasn’t directly involved, but for all I know, Antonio is watching her too.”
“Then we need to warn her.”
“Em,” he snaps at me. “I’ve got my hands full right now. Please…”
“Please what?” I challenge him. Surely he wouldn’t let someone who means so much to me fall prey to his father. “I didn’t ask for you to protect me—”
“No, you didn’t, Em, but Alex did.”
I freeze when he says this.
He exhales loudly and slowly, tension passing through the air between us. Finally, he blows a puff of air through his lips. “Look, I’m not Rosa.” He laughs. “But I can try to make you waffles. I know I have a waffle iron somewhere, and I promise I’ll see what I can find out about her.”
I try not to get my hopes up too much. “You will?”
“I promise.” He rests his hand over his heart.
“Okay.” I nod. “But I don’t really want waffles. I’m kind of nauseous.” All the talk of Rosa has upset my stomach.
“You need to eat something. How about some fruit?” He leans forward and rests his hand on my arm in concern.
Fruit actually sounds good… for a split second, until my mouth begins to water and that familiar feeling of bile begins to rise. Jumping up from the patio chair, I sprint inside the house. I can hear Sam calling my name, but I can’t respond. I barely make it to the hallway bathroom before I heave into the toilet.
“Emilia!” Sam finds me over the toilet and kneels next to me, pulling my hair back. “It’s okay,” he says softly. His other hand rubs small circles on my back as my stomach clenches one last time and I vomit again.
Reaching up, I blindly find the handle and flush the toilet. Tears sting my eyes, and I fall back, leaning against the bathroom wall. Sam sits quietly next to me, both of our legs outstretched next to each other.
I wipe my mouth with my forearm as a sob escapes me. “I can’t do this, Sam.”
He reaches out and rests his hand on my thigh, giving it a tender squeeze. “You can, Em. You will.” He encourages me, but even he doesn’t sound convinced. “Come on.” Sam pushes himself up and reaches his hand out to me, pulling me up and steadying me by my shoulders. “Let’s wait a little bit to eat, let your stomach settle.” I nod in agreement. “There’s something I wanted to give you.”
“What is it?”
“Let’s go.” He slides his hand into mine and guides me to the living room. “Sit down.” He gestures to the couch and hands me a large, white plastic bag. “Open it.”
I slide my fingers through the drawstring opening and pull out a white box with the profile view of a slim laptop. Peeling the plastic wrap off, I lift the lid and gasp at the sleek silver laptop. “Sam! This is too much.”
“Do you like it?” he asks as I pull the laptop out of the box and rest it on my lap.
“I love it. I have no clue how to use it, but I love it.” I’ve always wanted my own laptop, but could never afford one. I always used the clunky old computers at the public library.
He chuckles. “I’ll get it all set up for you. It’s easy to use once you play around with it for a while.”
“This is too much, Sam.” I hate owing people anything, and right now, there is no way I can afford this laptop.
“This is a gift, Em. All you have to do is accept it. That’s it.” He smiles sincerely at me
.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
Two hours later, Sam has me all set up and ready to browse the Internet. He’s shown me a website that all the women in his office rave about: Pinterest. It’s a website that has every idea imaginable to save ideas on home décor, cooking, crafts, fashion, and so much more. I’m already hooked. Although he’s made me vow not to set up social media in case Antonio is looking for me—and he’s also asked me to stay off my email in case that’s also being monitored. Apparently, Pinterest and I are going to become close friends because that’s about all I’m allowed to do.
Evening begins to settle in, and Sam is out on the back patio, grilling dinner. I give the laptop a rest and join him, settling into a patio chair while he mans the grill. I fight back tears as my memory still replays everything that happened just a day ago.
Dressed in a pair of athletic shorts and t-shirt, it’s easy to admire Sam’s impressive build—except all I see when I watch him is Alex. His arms flex and relax as he flips chicken breasts one-handed while gripping a cold bottle of beer in the other hand. He’s got an Arizona Diamondbacks baseball hat on backward, which allows me full access to view his chiseled jaw and dark brown eyes. Eyes just like Alex’s, just a little darker.
His lips twist into a smile when he catches me watching him. “Like what you see?”
Rolling my eyes, I reply, “You wish.” I rub my eyes with the back of my hand so that he doesn’t see me crying again.
Which causes him to bust out laughing. “Dinner will be ready in a few.”
“Can we eat out here tonight? On the patio?” I ask and smile at the thought.
“Sure. It’s a little warm but not terrible. Let me turn on the misters; that’ll make it more comfortable.”
I jump up go back into the house to gather the place settings from the kitchen table so I can and move them from the kitchen table to the backyard. While I’m in there, I grab the tossed salad and dressings and the pitcher of ice water, bringing them outside and them placing in the center of the large, iron table. Sam sets the platter of grilled chicken and veggies between us as we sit, and whispers a quiet prayer before plating me a healthy serving of chicken, veggies, and salad. The sun is just beginning to set and an orange hue lights up the afternoon sky. It’s peaceful, calm here.
