by Tori Alvarez
I look up at the screen and see he placed the game girl/boy. I’m second to the last. It gives me a moment to watch before I make a fool of myself. Trying to decide whether or not I want to announce my bowling virginity, I choose to wait until after my turn. Maybe I can master this with no problem.
Lola’s small frame picks up a ball and walks to the lane. She stands with her left leg in front of her right leg, pulls back her right arm, bending slightly, and lets the ball go. It travels down the center of the lane before angling to the left. She hits two of the corner pins.
Her body slouches as she turns around to face us. “I’m just warming up.” She moves her head from side to side and stretches her arms. “That’s better.” Just then, her ball comes up through the machine.
Her next ball hits a few pins, staying more centered.
Rene, AKA Winnie, goes next. He takes a couple of steps before releasing the ball. His ball flies down the lane and crashes into the right side pins. The screen up top tells us six pins are down.
“Can I get y’all anything?” A waitress arrives to take our order.
“A couple of pitchers of Dos XX,” Garrett tells her then turns to the group. “Snacks?”
“Yes, please. Get the appetizer sampler platter,” Lola chimes in for the group.
“I need to see everyone’s IDs,” she responds.
Once our drinks and food order is settled, I watch each person who goes. With each of them having their own style, I’m left more confused.
My turn has come quickly. I slide my fingers into the holes, lift the ball, and test the weight out. I swing it back and forth a couple of times, making myself familiar with it. The decision is made to take the couple of steps then release the ball. My heart is beating fast and hard with nervous energy. I bring the ball up to clutch with my other hand the way I saw others do it, take a step, then bring the ball down and back. The next step, I bend and release the ball… It lands on the lane and quickly strays right into the gutter.
“Gutterball!” is yelled behind me from a couple of Lola’s friends. I knew it would be coming as they had done this with a couple of others before me.
My head drops from embarrassment but more from frustration. How can this seemingly easy game be beyond me? I turn around slowly and catch Garrett’s gaze. He’s smiling, and he gives me a slight nod and mouths “Go again.” A soft smile forms on my face at his encouragement.
I grab my ball again, testing the weight. I quickly ponder my game plan, unsure if I should take the steps again. Decision made—steps it is. The ball leaves my hand, lands on the lane, and rolls toward the pins. It’s staying on the lane but slowly veering right again. It seems to be moving in slow motion, the anticipation of hitting at least one pin hanging in the air. Rolling…rolling…and crash…three pins on the right down.
The excitement of hitting just three pins hits me, and I jump up and down like I’m in elementary school, forgetting the people behind me. I turn around to walk back to the benches with high fives waiting. What is this alternate universe? I never thought throwing a ball down a lane would bring such happiness and excitement.
I sit down as Garrett stands for his turn. As he bends over to pick up his ball, he sneaks a glance at me and winks. His dimple is pronounced, making my stomach flip. These feelings are getting annoying, but at the same time, I don’t want them to stop.
The waitress comes by and drops off the couple of pitchers of beer. One of the guys quickly gets to work, helping the waitress pour the beers. After everyone’s are poured, there is only a bit left in one pitcher.
“Can you bring us a couple more when you see our glasses running low?” He waves the almost empty pitcher at her. “Thanks!”
My attention had been pulled from Garrett during the pouring. I missed his turn. I was only made aware of his accomplishment of knocking all the pins down by his loud declaration of “Ha” and his pointing at us on the benches.
“Don’t get a hard-on for that, dude. It’s only a spare, and it’s only the first frame,” the other guy pipes up at him, laughing.
Garrett plops down next to me after picking up the lone beer sitting on the table. He drapes his arm on the back of the bench behind me. He seems so relaxed right now. Each time we have been together, a lingering tension seemed to fill the air around us.
“What do you think of bowling so far?” Garrett whispers in my ear, the intimacy of his breath so close, sending chills down my arm.
I turn to face him, our faces so close. “As long as I don’t gutter them all, I think I’ll be fine.” I smirk at him.
The mischievous look in his eyes has my body begging to be touched. I’m not sure how long we sit watching each other until Lola snaps her fingers at us as she walks past us to sit down.
We both turn to look at her.
“Just checking to see if you were still with us.” She smirks knowingly.
The game continues with laughs and teasing. I’m not too bad, hitting pins here and there with some gutter balls thrown in. It may seem like everyone is competitive, but it is all in good fun. This really is an All-American past time that is lost in translation to the poor.
Garrett emerges as the winner of the first game. His winning dance is silly, not what I would expect to see. But I guess this whole night is not what I had expected. I didn’t know what to expect, but I was sure TV and movies exaggerated the “wholesome” fun they portrayed bowling to be. I guess not.
“Be ready to go down!” Rene points to Garrett. “I’m ready and warmed up.” We watch him as he jumps around as a boxer would, spinning his arms, stretching his neck, and hopping.
Much more teasing and yelling continues through the second game, but this time, it’s directed at Lola. She is looking like she may have hustled us, because she is knocking down pins like it’s nobody’s business.
After the fifth frame, she walks back to the benches, picks up her beer, and kisses the glass. “Thank you, friend, for my superpowers.”
Appetizer trays and beer continue to flow throughout the second game. Garrett waves the waitress down for the check, ready to close out. She hands it to him, and he opens it, looking it over.
“Forty-five bucks each. It includes the tip,” Garrett announces to the group as everyone is finishing their beer and changing their shoes.
Crap. No wonder I’ve never been here. I can’t be spending that kind of money on a night out. I concentrate on tying my shoes as I watch a couple of them pull out bills from their wallets and the others get on their phones.
“Cash App or Venmo?” Lola’s other female friend asks.
“Venmo,” Garrett answers as he pulls his phone out. I watch her scan a barcode on his phone.
“Done,” she lets him know.
I had a good time, but this won’t be my regular. I grab my purse and stick my hand in to pull out my wallet.
“I got you.” Garrett places his hand on my hand, stopping me from pulling out my wallet.
“Thank you, but I can’t let you.” I try and pull out my wallet with his hand still placed on mine.
“I insist. I’m not taking your money,” he whispers to me.
“Okay. Thank you.” I move my purse to the side, not wanting to draw attention from the others.
Garrett slides money he was handed into his wallet and takes out his card to place in the folder before handing it to the waitress as she walks by.
“I’ll start closing out the lanes.” Lola jumps up with her beer in hand and heads toward the shoe counter.
Closing out the lanes? I thought we just paid. I stay with Garrett while he waits for his card.
We meet her at the counter, placing our shoes on it.
“It’s twenty-three each,” Lola announces to us.
I watch as everyone is taking more money out. What did we just pay for? There would be no way I could afford this type of going out. What have I gotten myself into? I should never have let myself get befriended by them. Almost seventy bucks just for one night out? I�
��m truly sticker-shocked.
I’m grabbing for my wallet a second time tonight when Garrett comes in close to my ear. “How many times do I have to tell you I got this?” His cocky smirk stirs me but not enough to overcome the uneasy feeling of knowing I don’t fit in.
I have no problem letting guys pay for me when we both know that’s the deal. All my “dates” have been purchased. I provide company in whatever form they need, and they treat me well. This is new, and I am in uncharted waters. Garrett is not a customer, and I would never want to have that conversation with him. I don’t want him as a customer. I want more… What the fuck?! That thought did not just happen.
My heart feels like it’s about to thump out of my chest. This is not happening. I can’t let this happen. NO. I’m not falling for some guy.
Garrett
“We’re taking off. Later,” I say to the group as I hand Lola a fifty. Toni’s spooked and looks like she wants to make a mad-dash getaway, and I’m not about to let her.
I grab her hand, squeezing it, letting her know I have her without bringing attention to her. I doubt anyone else sees this. I’ve learned this look from the past couple of times she has tried to leave me. She closes her fingers. She’s still with me.
Lola comes up to Toni, giving her a hug. “I’ll call you tomorrow just in case you need to remember the bowling rockstar I am.” She winks and turns back to the counter.
Everyone else says their byes quickly, and I lead her out. As we begin driving, I am wracking my brain for something to lighten the mood and bring her back to me. She is quiet and distant. There is so much more than what she lets on. She has a story behind those eyes, and I want to know what it is. I’m figuring money is an issue. She may not have looked like a deer in headlights when we were throwing money around paying for the night, but I sensed her unease.
“Salty or sweet?” I ask as she is looking out her side window.
“Huh?” She turns and looks at me.
“What do you prefer to snack on? Salty or sweet?” I repeat, pretending to be oblivious to her change in mood. I want her back with me.
“Hmm…” She pauses for a few seconds. “I’m not sure. I guess now it is salty, but it was sweet when I was little because my grandmother would sometimes have atole for me after school. I loved the days when I got home to the smell of cinnamon. It was my favorite.”
A peace washes over her as I suspect she is picturing that time. I say nothing in return, not wanting to break the spell I just cast.
A few more seconds pass before she speaks again. “Atole is—”
“Rice pudding,” I interject before she can finish, cocking an eyebrow at her with my knowledge.
“Yes, rice pudding. Not everyone knows. And you? Salty or sweet?”
“I’ve always been a sweets guy. My mom makes the best homemade cookies. I have to say, snacking on store-bought is just not the same.” I decide to share a piece of me in return. “She makes all kinds: peanut butter, chocolate chip, oatmeal.”
“I like cookies.” I’m rewarded with her rare, real smile. The one that reaches her eyes. She’s back with me.
Food seems to be a safe subject, keeping her out of her head, so I continue with the food conversation until we reach her place.
“Thank you for being such a good sport and bowling with me even though you had never bowled before.” The unease in her surfaces again in an instant.
“You’re welcome. But I do feel bad you paid for the entire night.” Her gaze drops to the ground.
“Hey. It was my pleasure.” I reach for her, placing one hand on her waist and the other on her shoulder. I gently pull her closer to me. “Call me old-fashioned; I feel better paying on a date.”
She brings her gaze up to me, not pulling back but not saying anything. Seconds tick by. She slowly closes the few inches between us, leaning her body into mine as her arms snake around my waist. I wrap my arms around her shoulders, wanting to shield her from whatever ghosts seem to haunt her. I place a small kiss on the top of her head.
Our moment is broken when her next-door neighbor opens their door to walk out. She pulls back, looking up at me.
“Good night.” Her lips come up to mine.
Don’t get me wrong, it was a good kiss, but it was tempered.
Chapter 9
Her secret life…
Toni
Last night was not what I had expected. I wanted to invite him in. I wanted to surround myself in all that was Garrett. I lay in my bed for what seemed like eternity, thinking of him. Wondering if he was seeing anyone else. Wondering if he wanted more. Wondering how I could keep my past a secret. Wondering if I wanted to. All this continued floating around until my mom called.
“Mom, seriously. When is enough going to be enough?” She just finished telling me about her newest boyfriend woes. Not wanting to be exclusive, blah, blah, blah…. I tune out quickly because this is a broken record.
“I don’t understand your hostility. I’m going through something, and I don’t even think you were listening.” Ding, ding, ding…she’s right. I wasn’t listening. My eyes roll at her dramatics yet again. “What should I do? Should I let him take his break? Do you think he’ll come back?”
“Why don’t you take a break? If he comes back, fine, but if he doesn’t, then learn to be with yourself. Have you ever been alone?” I know the answer to this. No, she has not, but she needs to see this for herself.
“By myself? Why would I want to do that? Men are supposed to take care of their women. I don’t understand why I can’t find the one to take care of me.”
Her pursuit of men has never stopped, but she is not concentrating on the big bucks like she did before. If the bucks are there, she’s ecstatic, but now she really just wants someone to take care of her.
“Maybe because they smell the desperation,” I let slip, frustrated with her once again.
“Really! Well, thanks for the pep talk. I gotta go.” She hangs up on me before I can apologize.
Her call threw ice-cold water on the what-ifs I was just imagining with Garrett. Perfect timing, waking me up to reality. Frustration with myself sets in because I can’t want anything with him. Eventually, they all leave. No matter how nice he seems, he is still a male and so then untrustworthy.
I was going to pop into the club and pick up a shift until my phone pinged with an incoming text.
Bitch, get your ass over here. No working
My best friend from the hood. Her way of telling me it has been too long. Ditching the club may be what I need tonight. I have ignored my real life, pretending to be the perfect college student for too long.
“Hey, bitch!” Amelia yells across the small apartment filled with bodies as I open the door.
“Hey, ho!” I respond.
We have been friends since elementary. Our shitty lives have been entwined with my grandmother and her mom taking turns watching us when we were little so they could work. Her mom is actually a pretty good mom, working several jobs just to make ends meet—but never enough to leave the hood. Her mom’s concentration on Amelia, never leaving her in search of a Prince Charming that does not exist.
“What are you doing here, pendeja?” Alex’s voice breaks through the music and chatter.
“What do you think, asshole?” I flip him off, walking into the kitchen to put my 12-pack in the fridge.
“Why do you keep coming back? Stay over there. Leave this fucking place.” Alex follows me into the kitchen and begins his lecture.
“I told her to come. You can’t take her away from me, fucker,” Amelia responds angrily. While she is proud of me for attending a university, she is still trying to work and complete an associate’s degree at the local community college. She would like to make it out, too, but won’t drop the jackass boyfriend who mooches off her. If he would keep a fucking job for longer than a few months at a time, she wouldn’t have to work so many hours.
“I know. But she needs to get used to those o
ther people. The ones she will be working with and for. There is nothing for her here. She’s going to leave the fuckin’ ghetto.” Alex holds his ground. “Maybe you need to learn and assimilate yourself over there with her. Instead of bringing her back here, you go to her.”
“Fine. Next time,” Amelia concedes to Alex, pacifying him.
He comes over and places a kiss on the top of my head. “Have fun tonight. But don’t keep coming back.” He places his hand under my chin and lifts my head to look at him. The firmness in his words is heard loud and clear.
As soon as he walks out of the tiny kitchen, Amelia starts in on him, “What the fuck, Toni? Why is he trying to keep you away?”
I shrug my shoulders, not wanting to answer. She knows the truth, but the truth is painful to bear. She may never leave this shithole life. She knows I have the ticket to leave, so she clutches me so hard sometimes, scared to face what happens next.
I see a bottle of tequila sitting on the counter. A cheap bottle that will certainly cause a horrendous hangover if we do too many shots, but one or two will kickstart the night.
“Shot time!” I point at the bottle.
“That’s Eddie’s. He’ll blow a fucking gasket if we drink his bottle.” Eddie is her loser boyfriend.
“Who paid rent this month?” I ask, knowing she did.
“I did. You know that.”
“Then, he at least owes you a couple of shots.” I raise an eyebrow, waiting for her to falter.
“Fine. We just won’t admit it.” She grabs two glasses and pours us a generous amount each.
“Pa vajo.” We click our glasses together and shoot the awful-tasting alcohol.
“Where is he, anyway?” I ask, curious to his absence.
“He’s filling in for a bartender at The Hole.”
She’s being generous, calling it bartending. Grabbing customers their beers and mixing cheap booze with sodas of their choice is not exactly bartending. But on this side of town, that’s all we can afford, and it’s always a treat to indulge at a bar.
