Beautiful Collision

by Tori Alvarez

  “Oh, Toni! I’m in love!” My mom is gushing over her newest boyfriend. I let her, because nothing I say will change her mind. She never learns. At least I’m getting a good lunch out of him.

  “Great, Mom.” I try and hide the annoyance in my voice. It’s only the first time this year she has said this and it is summer.

  “I’ve told him all about you. We are looking for a house to rent. You can move in with us this school year.” Her smile would be contagious if I believed her.

  “Are you looking in the neighborhood?” I’m skeptical, but it would be nice to have a bit more room. Guela’s house is small, and my uncle just moved in again. The small, three-bedroom is already tight with my cousins, Alex and Javie, my grandmother, and me. My uncle is taking over the living room, and I hate it when his friends come over.

  “Of course not!” Her eyes widen in horror. My mom will do anything to leave our neighborhood. “We are looking in Ingleside.”

  “Ugh, Mom. I don’t want to change schools again.” I roll my neck, knowing this conversation is heading into an argument.

  “There are better schools in Ingleside. We will finally be out of the ghetto.”

  “Really? And what happens when he dumps you?” The words tumble out. I haven’t lived with my mom for a while. Years of pent-up anger are unleashed in those seven words.

  “If that is what you think, stay at Guela’s. You’ll probably drive him away with your selfish attitude.” She stands quickly, knocking the table, causing her drink to fall.

  Frustration and guilt hit me fast and hard. Knowing things always end badly, I know I’m right, but I didn’t have to be a bitch about it. I watch the tears come as she turns away and walks out the door, leaving me with the check and without a ride.

  I wave the waitress down to ask for the check. Knowing I do not have enough to cover what we ordered, I’m about to ask about doing dishes.

  “Want me to cancel the order?” a middle-aged woman asks me from behind.

  I turn and nod. I’m guessing it is a manager. I get up and make my way to the closest bus stop.

  Ugh! What has he done to me? These questions were never an issue to me before. I do what I do to make money. Men are a distraction. A distraction I don’t need. I just need to finish and get in the real world. A world where I’m not hiding anymore. A world where I can be anybody. I’ve learned the language, mannerisms, and I sure as hell know I have the brains. The cattiness of college is what I can’t wait to leave behind.

  I scan the Coffee House, walking in. Not seeing Garrett anywhere, I begin to order.

  I place my order, and the barista asks, “Name for the order?”

  This is a change. They usually just call out the type of drink from the counter. “Toni.”

  “Okay. Thanks!” She smiles brightly at me.

  I hand over my card to pay, knowing how much it is even if she didn’t say the amount. I order the same thing every time.

  “No need. Your order has been taken care of already.”

  “By who?” I ask, confused.

  “I got it.” I’m startled from behind as Garrett whispers in my ear. The chills he sends down my arm as I feel his breath so close has my body humming.

  I step to the side, placing a bit more space in between us. “Thank you, but I can get my own coffee.”

  “I’m sure you can, darlin’, but let me.” He grabs my hand and places a slow kiss on the top. He pulls my hand away from his lips and winks. “There are people behind us waiting. Let’s find a place to sit.”

  Luckily, we find a small corner table away from the traffic. “How did you manage to swing this?” I can’t help but smile at his effort to continue impressing me.

  “Credit card over the phone. I called it in on my way to class. Since you were nice enough to give me another chance, I wanted to make sure I made an impression.” His dimple is on full display with his flirty, shit-eating grin. I feel my cheeks heat up with thoughts of me licking that dimple. “So I guess it worked.”

  Just as I’m going to deny, our order is called. “Hold that thought, sexy.” I watch him move through the tight space to the counter. He is not the type of guy I would have given a second glance to before. A rugged, good-looking, boy next door. He doesn’t scream for attention. His casual dress and carefree sense is refreshing.

  “Penny for your thoughts.” He brings back two cups of coffee and a couple of plates with scones. “Blueberry or cranberry-almond?” He is sliding the plates back and forth in front of me.

  “Blueberry. Thank you.”

  “Thoughts?” he asks again.

  “Honestly?” I ask.

  “Of course.” He doesn’t hesitate.

  “You.”

  “Hmm… Sounds good, I think. What about me?” His brows raise in question.

  “You aren’t what I thought. Most guys are…”—I pause, not knowing how to explain without coming off like a bitch—“into themselves and getting what they want. You have been nothing but thoughtful and nice.”

  “I’m glad you think so. I guess I can thank Mama for that.”

  “Helping Dad at home and thanking Mama for manners. You are a different breed.” I giggle, teasing him a bit.

  “You saw it the other night. I dated the girl you saved me from for a couple of months. I broke it off nicely. But being nice doesn’t seem to get the job done. I have told her several times since the break ‘no,’ but she keeps coming back for more. Am I supposed to be a dick?” His shoulders shrug.

  Garrett

  I can’t believe that came out. She unnerves me. Compose yourself. Grow a damn pair.

  “What does your week look like?” I ask, curious if I can see her again this week.

  “Same as always. Classes, studying, wor—”

  Her eyes widen just a fraction as she doesn’t finish the last word. I’m guessing she was going to say work. It didn’t look like she wanted to let that slip. Another money-hungry female not wanting to admit they have to work?

  “Me too.” I decide not to pursue what she was going to say. “Free night?” It will be a damn shame if she is after the money, too.

  “Uh…sure. How about Thursday?” She may not have looked like she wanted to agree, but since she did, I’m taking it.

  “So tell me, what would you like to do?”

  “Hey, guys! I’m so happy to see a couple of friendly faces.” Lola grabs a chair and plops herself down at our table. “What’s up?”

  “We were just discussing plans to get together on Thursday,” Toni pipes up.

  “Fun! Let’s all go bowling. We can get a few people together. We can do Glow Bowl.” Lola is clapping her hands like a five year old and hopping in her seat.

  “Glow Bowl?” I ask. I was hoping for just the two of us, but maybe this will help take some of the pressure off.

  “Yes. The Lane Bowling has games that begin at like nine-ish, and they have black lights and fun music.”

  “I’ve never been bowling, but I’ll give it a try.” Toni’s words are hesitant.

  “We’re in,” I chime in for her. I grab her hand on the table and give it a reassuring squeeze. She looks up at me, and her lips turn up just a fraction.

  An order is called from the counter. “Gotta go. I’ll text you later for specifics. Toodles.” She waves her fingers back and forth, bouncing toward the counter.

  Toni and I sit for a bit in silence, taking drinks, and I watch her nibble a piece of scone.

  “I’m not the best bowler, but I can help you out.” She looks up at me, emotionless.

  “I’m sure I can figure it out. How hard can it be? Send the ball down the lane and hit the pins.” Her words and the confusion swirling behind her eyes are clashing.

  “I have no doubt. But just in case, I’m here.” I grab a scone and take a large bite. I place it back down and grab the bottom of her chair. I pull it closer to me. The internal struggle I’m watching is too much. All I want to do is wrap a protective arm around her and keep everythi
ng at bay. I rest my arm on the back of her chair and graze my fingers up and down her arm.

  “No frat duties this week?” Her body leans a bit toward me.

  “Nope. We voted on a party hiatus. They are too much damn work.”

  “You just realized this? But don’t y’all have them all the time?”

  “We do. But I guess I didn’t mind working before because I was partying, too. But when you just want to spend time with a certain someone, the duty shifts suck.” Again, information vomit. Another admission I was not ready to share.

  She comes in slowly. Not knowing what she plans, I stay still, not wanting to misread this. Her lips lightly graze mine.

  “Favorite song of all time?” she asks out of nowhere.

  Our coffee date is saved with confessions of favorites.

  Toni

  I am going bowling. This is another activity the poor folk don’t do. I have never stepped into a bowling alley. All I know about bowling is what I’ve seen on movies or TV. Does it sound cheesy as hell? Fuck yes. Am I curious? Yes.

  And what was I thinking kissing him? Even if it was sweet. His affirmation of wanting to spend time with me stirred something I have never felt before. I didn’t think about it. It just happened. But when it finally clicked what I did, I needed to change the mood quick.

  I’ve learned during my time here that ‘favorites’ talk can last a bit and doesn’t have to get personal. It was actually fun. I did find his penchant for Mexican food as his favorite either brown-nosing or adorable. Can’t tell which yet.

  Ping. A text comes through on my phone.

  Tomorrow night? ~ Mark

  Sure ;-) ~ me

  I answer immediately as I always do, but this time, a new feeling of worry washes over me. Knowing Garrett is causing these foreign feelings is irritating but not something I want to do anything about. Not yet…

  

  I can’t believe how exhausted I am. The past few weeks of working, partying, and juggling these damn new emotions for Garrett have done me in. I’ll just lie here for a minute while Mark showers, then I’ll get dressed and head home.

  “Toni, it’s time to get up.” I’m vaguely listening. “Come on, Toni, you know the deal.”

  His voice registers, and I think, Fuck, I know better. I should never have gotten comfortable. I quickly sit up to look for my clothes.

  “Sorry about that. Late night at the club and early morning class must have done me in. I’m out of here in a sec,” I lie while I’m quickly dressing to head home.

  “No worries. Just making sure nothing has changed,” he responds skeptically.

  “Nothing has changed. I’m out of here,” I answer while moving a little faster.

  “Good.” He comes up to me as I pick up my purse from his nightstand. “This is all I can do, but I like spending time with you.” I tip-toe to reach his lips and give him a quick peck so I can scurry out. “Take a few bills from my wallet.”

  I walk to the door, turning around to give him a flirtatious wink to ease his mind about our non-existent relationship. I open his wallet to find several hundreds and twenties. I pull out four hundreds and place his wallet back down.

  Driving home is sometimes the hardest. Knowing men just let you down, I don’t want any more than this, but tonight, the cheapness I feel is irritating me. I’ve never apologized for anything I have done to survive my life, always doing what is needed. I’ve never felt guilty or bad about it. Until now.

  

  Lola has been texting non-stop the past couple of days, arranging a night of bowling. Never in a million years would I have thought so much work needed to go into a casual night out. When we get together in the hood, we just announce whose place, and everyone brings their own drinks and snacks if you’re feeling generous.

  Garrett has insisted on picking me up this time. I couldn’t think of a reason for him not to, so he is heading here. My feelings of uneasiness are somewhat tempered due to Lola’s insistence of making her way into my place already.

  Just as I’m finishing up my mascara, a knock on the door announces his arrival. A deep breath. Here goes nothing.

  I open the door. “Hey!” He makes casual look good.

  “Hello, darlin’.” He places his hand on my cheek and gives me the softest kiss on the corner of my mouth. “Almost ready to learn how to bowl?” His dimple gives away that he is trying to contain a full-blown smirk.

  I move to the side, allowing him to come in. “I guess. Not much I can do about that now. Lola will have a fit if we change her plans.” That is one thing I have quickly learned about her. She loves to do for others and is fiercely loyal.

  “She may be little, but she’s quite feisty.” He goes to sit on my small second-hand couch. “I’m waiting on you to finish. Hurry on up. She said our reservations are at nine. I’d hate to see how mad she’ll get if we’re late.”

  I glance around my small studio, the one room with nowhere to go for privacy except the bathroom. He pulls his phone from a pocket and begins scrolling social media. I’m glued to this spot. How have Lola and Garrett pushed past my normal walls of extreme privacy?

  He turns back and looks at me, confused. “Ready?”

  “Almost.” I scurry into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I lean against the wall and take a few deep breaths. I take a quick look at my face and glide on some gloss. I walk out of the bathroom and slide on a pair of sandals. “Okay. Now, I’m ready.”

  Garrett stands up and takes me in from head to toe. There is a hunger in his eyes. It may not be helping that I’m standing in front of my bed.

  “You will want to wear socks.” His eyes come back to mine.

  “Right. Socks.” Not something I have done before, I forgot about the shoe rental. It kind of grosses me out, but if Lola—Miss Sorority—does it, how bad can it be? I slide off my sandals and take a pair out of a drawer. I sit on my bed to switch into a pair of Converse. He continues watching me as I make the change. “Okay. Now, for real, I’m done.” I wink.

  I walk beside him, not knowing what he drives. He clicks the button on his keys, and the lights of an oversized, older truck light up. Not surprising, but shocking at the same time. The truck fits his cowboy look. It does not, however, resemble the luxury cars parked at the frat house. He opens the door for me before walking to his side.

  The drive to the bowling alley is filled with bowling jargon and tips. I can’t believe he is suggesting I use bumper guards, as he calls them. He explains they are for children learning to bowl.

  “I’m not a child. I can’t use them,” I protest, a little insulted.

  “Of course you can. Anyone can. It’s just a setting you add,” he continues, teasing.

  “I’m not using them.” I stand my ground.

  “If you insist. Just don’t get mad when you gutter ball.” I notice him giving me the side eye before adding, “Quite often.” And with that last jab, his snickers turn into a full laugh.

  Rolling my eyes dramatically at him, I inform him, “Just wait. I may surprise everyone with beginner’s luck.” I’m not too sure that will be the case, but I have to have some hope of surviving bowling. Bowling. How could anyone suck at this game? It’s literally rolling a ball down a lane.

  The bowling alley is filled with high school and college-aged people. Most of the lanes are filled with people already in the middle of games. The music is much louder than I expected, and the black lights make everyone look ridiculous. I can’t help but smile at the good-natured fun everyone seems to be having. So completely different than the parties on the south side. The way everyone dresses, their mannerisms, the carefree laughter, is something I’ve only seen on TV. I grew up with “parties” in dark parks with alcohol purchased by someone’s older relative. And that was in middle school. By high school, we had graduated to finding abandoned homes or whoever’s place adults were gone or didn’t care if we were there. And booze was no longer the central theme. Weed was easier to score and did the trick
faster and cheaper.

  Garrett leads me to the counter where Lola is already congregating with three others I remember from the party.

  “Yeah! You’re here. I feared you all would be late and we would lose our lane,” she gushes while giving us each a friendly hug—another strange practice of hers. She turns back to the counter to speak with the attendant. “We are all here now.”

  We sit at the benches in our lane to swap our shoes. I hesitate, watching the others, before I make the switch. I don’t want to wear these absurd shoes if no one else is. Surprisingly, they all begin changing, so I do also. Rene, one of the guys I met at the party, stands in front of a small screen.

  “Okay, guys, real names, initials, or are we choosing characters?”

  “Characters!” each person replies except for me.

  Garrett turns to me, explaining quietly. “If we choose character names, the loser can hide their embarrassment behind a fake name. And any pics people choose to post won’t give away who sucks.” He winks at me teasingly.

  “Ha....ha….ha.” I say each like a slow clap.

  He kisses my cheek and whispers, “You got this. You’re probably a hustler.” His description of me is too close to my truth.

  Each person gives a character, so we have: Mickey, Superman, Flash, Daisy, Winnie, and I chose Eeyore.

  Rene stays at the screen while everyone else goes to pick out their balls. Who could have known there were so many steps that needed to be done before a game could even begin? Garrett recommends I choose a six- or eight-pound ball, nothing heavier. Listening to his direction is becoming necessary. I place my fingers in the holes to make sure they are big enough. Getting your fingers stuck in a bowling ball is not my idea of fun. I’m hoping Rene places my name last. I wouldn’t want to be the first one up without seeing someone do it first.

  “Come on, Daisy. You’re up first.” Rene points at Lola.