by Jones, Ayla
“I know. I am the recipe,” he said. I raised my eyebrows. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I cooked for you before.” I led him into my apartment. Camryn was having a loud giggly conversation in my bedroom.
My heart was racing and my legs felt wobbly. Was this nervousness? Because his being here wasn’t awkward at all. It actually felt familiar. He stood in the middle of my living room, watching me set my things down. Then he hugged me. It was silent and full of deep breaths. His hugs still made everything better. All the distance was gone in an instant.
“Why are you the recipe?” I asked when we pulled apart.
“My mom taught me a new dish every month for a while when I was kid. I can’t believe I never told you this. She said everyone—man or woman—should know four things: how to change a tire, someone they can call in the middle of the night if they’re in trouble, the number of a good lawyer, and how to cook.”
God, I loved that woman. Her son, too. “Some of the ingredients are in the grocery bags, but I’ll get all the other stuff you need.”
Before I could take a step he grabbed my arm. He shook his head. “I know where everything is, Nik…” Then he passed me and walked to the kitchen.
After I changed into shorts and a t-shirt, we worked side by side. I made pollo guisado and an avocado, watercress and pineapple salad. Charlie made the mac and cheese.
“So…you look good,” I said.
“Thanks. I quit for real. Hasn’t been easy. Can’t say I don’t think about using sometimes, but I did quit.” God, I was happy to hear that. Plus, I knew he’d told Samira. He was acknowledging it, which was a good sign. “Why’d Cam have a bad day?” He put the platter in the oven, and then his eyes were on me, holding me in his gaze.
“New exercises during her therapy. She’s not great with change. It was hard on her and her mom. I think she just needed out of the situation. I know I’ll never be able to make it right, but I try where I can…”
“And you’re doing all right, baby girl.” He stroked my upper arm.
“Thanks.”
Then came the silence. Quiet. Quiet. Quiet. Crap. “So, West Side Story is finally coming up,” he said.
“Yeah…and I have tons of tickets to sell still. You’ll be there?”
“Yup. Whole squad is coming,” he promised. “Is he gonna be there? Samira told me you are…dating…someone…” My heart, now dislodged, flipped and flopped until it landed in my gut. I looked at him and he held his hands up. “Don’t get mad at her. She tells me everything.”
“Yeah, he will be there but, Charlie, we don’t have to talk about this.”
“I promised you I was always going to be your friend. I meant it. It’s going to kill me but I miss you. I miss talking to you.”
I missed that, too. “Okay. Well, we met one night after a show. Totally not serious. His name is—”
“Don’t. Not that.” He hung his head for a moment. “No name, please. Anything else. Is he…is he being good to you? Are you happy? I hope so.”
“Yes. But it’s not serious at all, Charlie. Just coffee here and there…” I didn’t know if I was explaining the situation for his benefit or mine.
Our conversation roamed after that—TV shows, friends, and work. But he was here to help me and not here to have endless hours of stimulating conversation, so I ignored my disappointment.
“Okay…I’m about to change your life, Nik,” he said when the oven finally dinged. “You only get one bite, though.” Beyond the amazing smell, the platter itself was perfect: crumbly on the top and the juices were still sizzling on the bottom. He set it on the stovetop and dipped a fork into a corner when it got a little cooler.
“Okay…we’ll see…” I teased.
“I’m not even going to let you hold the fork,” he said. “Open.” I was a dirty girl, so Charlie telling me to open anything—especially my mouth—got me hot. He knew that so he smirked when I parted my lips. He was watching me so intently, and he sucked in a deep breath when I closed my mouth around the small portion of food. Sparks of desire flickered in my chest and turned my blood to fire. Did Charlie and I ever do it in the kitchen? Nope, I don’t think we ever did.
“Wow…” I chewed slowly, savoring the taste. “This…this is…I really can’t have another bite?”
He scooped up more. He licked the corner of his mouth this time when he brought the fork to my lips. I hesitated for a moment. I kind of wanted him to say “Open” again. “So? Just as good the second time?”
“Perfect.” We held smiles on each other until the urge to kiss him got too overwhelming.
“What’s left?” he asked.
“That’s it. Thank you.”
Then Charlie gripped my face and I held my breath. His lips brushed over my forehead. I smiled. I ached. “Anytime,” he said. “This was fun…”
I left him in the kitchen to go get ready. I showered, put my hair up in a bun, and slipped into the dress I’d picked out. “Whoa. For Charlie or the other guy?” Camryn asked. She was texting at finger-breaking speed so she missed my annoyed glare.
Nerves crept in as I twirled around in my full-length mirror. “For dinner tonight with my family.” I looked really nice. It was the perfect façade to conceal just how terrified I was. What would my family see? What image of me would be reflected in their eyes? They had so many awful memories. And how could I truly express my hurt when my dad…
“I can’t do this…”
Oh God. I ran to my bed, sat, and tried to wait out the panic. But my pulse only rammed harder against my eardrums, and my palms were getting slick.
“What happened? What’s wrong with you?” Camryn swung her legs around and sat next to me. I walked back to the kitchen. Or maybe I ran. “Nicole!”
The place was spotless and the table was set for four.
But he was gone. Charlie was gone.
A wave of disappointment rushed me and I actually got teary eyed. I had adjusted to him not being here. I had not gotten over him but I had adjusted. Now the emptiness was back. I missed him so much each day that nothing could distract me, not even sleep. I woke up sad most mornings. Even in my disorientation and having no memory of whatever dream had devastated me, I knew it was about him. We were good together and Charlie was clearly doing better, so why were we apart? Maybe I should’ve fought for him more. Maybe he didn’t want to fight for me anymore.
Camryn was still calling my name but it sounded so far away. Because my mind was elsewhere. I kept an emergency bottle of Captain Morgan under the bathroom sink. It was purely for smashing. Like one of those “lift it over my head and destroy it with all my might against something” smashes. But now…maybe I need to drink—
“Nik?” Charlie called out and knocked on the front door.
“Yes. Coming.” He hadn’t left. I wiped my eyes and let him in.
“I went to go get flowers, and dishwasher pods because you’re out, and pie…” He placed a vase of tulips on the table and shopping bags on the counter. “Damn, you look nice. Still gonna give you damns.” I tried to smile but I was having trouble breathing. When he walked over to me he hugged me, and then held me by my shoulders. “Hey, baby girl, you’re shaking...why are you shaking?”
“What the hell is wrong with her?” Camryn asked, agitation in her voice.
“When do I stop being who I am and start being who I want to be?” He always had a way of making me comfortable enough to say what I only wanted to think.
“What the hell is wrong with her?!”
“Okay, hold on a sec,” he said to me. Then he turned to Camryn. “Can you go wait in the bedroom? Call your mom and tell her I’ll bring you home. Nik’s just having a bad day. Sometimes she has those, too.” It clicked with her, and when she left us alone he led me over to my couch.
“You and Ella must be so fucking sick of me right now…” I said as he pulled me against him.
“That’s not true, but you’ve still got three more Daras left in the family. And then
you can circle back. It’s all good. So, you need me to do anything right now? Wanna just sit here a while? Swing each other’s dicks?”
Charlie could really ruin a moment…but he also knew just what I needed. I laughed so much that he caught it and had to start laughing, too. I put my face in the curve of his neck and sighed. “Thank you for helping with Camryn. I couldn’t handle a meltdown from her when I’m having my own. I’m just so scared. What if…? What if they don’t want me anymore? After all this, what if I’m too hard to love now?”
“It’s not worth being loved by anyone who thinks that about you, Nik. But your parents wouldn’t be coming if they didn’t love you a whole lot.” His hug got tighter. It hurt. I missed it hurting. “And take it from someone who has being doing it for months now: you make it pretty damn easy.”
****
Charlie
“Your car smells funny,” Camryn said to me as we waited in my car in the parking lot of Nikki’s apartment building. I was propping myself up in the driver’s seat, balancing on my hands to see into her living room. “And what the heck are we doing?”
“I opened the blinds before I left…just want to make sure everything’s cool.” Her family had arrived a few minutes ago and gone inside. I was probably more nervous than anyone, but also hopeful that everything would go well. Before he went upstairs, Tyler and I had locked eyes in the parking lot, and I knew my message following his drunken night was still clear.
“They’re not going to murder her, Charlie,” Camryn said, scoffing.
“I know that…still just making sure everything’s okay…okay? I love her.” I shrugged. “And my mac and cheese was good, right, Cam, you liked it? Do you think it meant a lot to her that I was here? I wanted to help her out, but I was trying to show her that I’m still me and she can rely on me again. I bought, like, thirty West Side tickets. Who the hell else am I gonna get to come, after my friends?”
Camryn wasn’t even listening. Silhouettes were coming together and embracing in the apartment now, so relief washed over me. “God her brother is so cute…” Camryn pressed me down in my seat with more force than I expected out of someone her size, leaned over me, and looked into Nikki’s apartment as well. “He’d probably never go for someone like me, though.”
“Why not?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Your brain injury?” She nodded. “I bet that’s hard. And people generally suck, kiddo. You just gotta close ranks and keep good people around you who’ll do their very best to understand. There are some out there, okay?”
She nodded. “So, if you love her, then why’d you guys stop fucking?”
“I screwed up,” I admitted. “That got in the way of the fucking.”
“Why would you mess things up with her? Nicole is my favorite person.”
“You should tell her that,” I said as I cranked the ignition. “She’d love to hear it from you. Do you ever get mad at her for what happened, honestly?”
“All the time. But she’s the only person who doesn’t really get mad at me.” With a smile, she slumped back down in her seat and put her seatbelt on. “I guess she knows what it’s like to be different, too.”
“So, does the new guy make her happy?”
“I think so…”
“Well, she’s pretty special…I get it…” I dropped Camryn off and went straight to Fallon’s. She wasn’t returning any of my texts, and I was starting to really worry about her. Plus, this was the first and last time I was going to try to give her back her drugs; I was dumping them today. Pree and Ahsha had also told me she’d recently cleared out her locker and withdrawn from classes because her parents wanted to homeschool her. That didn’t sound like something Fallon would’ve willingly agreed to.
I was permanently on the guard gate entrance list where she lived, so the guard waved me in and I parked where I usually did. Fall, where are you? I’m outside, I texted. I’d never been inside Fallon’s family’s condo before, so I didn’t even know the number. As I was getting out of the car, my phone vibrated and it flashed Nikki’s name just as I walked inside. “Hi. Everything okay? Something happen? I can get back there in twenty minutes—”
“So, you finally left, huh? Good, because there are laws against stalking…”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. How’d my mac and cheese go over?” I stepped into the spacious lobby. There was no way to know where in this palatial tower the Gregorys lived but there was a concierge.
“Very well. I’ve been getting compliments. I did a great job with it.”
“You took credit. That’s fucked-up, Nik. You couldn’t claim the pie instead?” I pulled the phone away from my mouth to speak with the guy at the desk. “I need to reach the Gregorys, please.” Who was I going to say I was? Fallon’s tutor? Ah. The app, which I’d barely worked on. Anyway, I was definitely her tutor now.
“Nope. The mac and cheese is winning right now, so the story is I made it. Anyway, I needed to tell you thank you for today but I should go.”
“Call me later and tell me about everything?” In the moment I decided to take a chance, give us the chance to…I didn’t know. We’d been so lost to each other when I lost myself.
“Uh…I can’t…I have…it’s…” The hesitation spoke for her and it lacerated my insides. The guy. She had plans with him. Why wouldn’t she? Anyone who could look at that woman, scars and all, and not see what was truly there, and who wouldn’t do anything to be worthy of her, was an idiot.
“Right. You don’t know how long dinner is going to run,” I said, giving her an out. It was like downing poison. “You should focus on them.”
The guy at the desk tensed up, clearly growing impatient that I was trying to have more than one conversation at once. “Sir, are the Gregorys expecting you?”
“I gotta go, Nik.” I hung up. Nik needed to go, too. She needed to go and be happy. That was what she’d always deserved. “It’s very important that I see Fallon Gregory. My name is Charlie Dara. I’m on the guard gate list.” I passed him my driver’s license.
“Unfortunately, the Gregorys aren’t receiving any guests who aren’t on this specific visitors list at this time,” he said, tapping the computer screen. “Would you like to leave a written message?” What the hell? I said no and thanked him and headed for the exit. I nearly bumped into an elderly man and three small kids who were walking into the building. It was that Mr. George guy. I flashed a smile and headed to my car. He could probably tell me which condo the Gregorys lived in. Maybe he wouldn’t, but it was probably worth the attempt of asking.
“That’s definitely him. He’s the one!” When I turned, he was pointing at me. Then I saw them. All of them.
Cops. With guns drawn. At me.
Shit. SHIT.
“Put your hands up now!” one of them yelled. I hesitated because this didn’t seem right. Or real. Everything slowed down around me. They had the wrong person. They had to. I lifted my arms and tried to catch my breath. “Get on the ground now.” I did that next and pressed my forehead to the asphalt. I was handcuffed and brought back up to my feet. A female officer was the first person I made eye contact with. She smiled the way someone does before they did the verbal equivalent of decapitating you.
“Mr. Dara, you’re under arrest.”
Off with my head.
***
There are two things that make weekend arrests really shitty:
Human beings are usually on their worst behavior on Friday and Saturday nights, so the cells are jam-packed and everyone’s cranky or drunk or both.
You’ll most likely be in there until Tuesday.
My mom arrived on Monday as my attorney, and she was fuming when they brought her to the room where I was waiting. She was ready to kick my ass, but I was so happy to see her. She was the first person I was going to talk to in days. I hadn’t spoken to the cops at all after being booked into the jail. Mom’s idea of family night for us was playing a board game about the U.S. Const
itution; I knew my rights, and I knew I didn’t have to say shit.
“Get those handcuffs off him! He’s my son,” she ordered. As much as she would try, she’d never be able to pull off being a lawyer today. Not when her son was locked up. She tapped her foot anxiously as an officer uncuffed me, and she glared at him until he left the room. “Are you okay? Did they Mirandize you? Did they read you your rights?”
“Yeah.” I massaged my wrists. “I’m fine. They did everything by the book here.”
“Good,” she whispered, but there was still fright on her face. “Are you sure you’re okay, baby?”
“Definitely.”
“Okay…” Mom sighed and took a legal pad from her briefcase. “Charlie, why the hell were there pill bottles in your car with Fallon Gregory’s name on them…filled with marijuana?”
Fallon’s weed. The shit I wanted to give back to her. Goddammit.
“Someone called the police. They said they’d seen you buying drugs in that condominium complex before, from Fallon Gregory. When the cops arrived, the witness pointed out your car. The police claim they detected the scent of unburned marijuana through your open car window, and also saw a baggie sticking out from under your seat. It had a single amphetamine pill in it. Those things combined with the witness ID gave them probable cause to arrest you, and then they searched the car and found the other bottles in your glove box. Definitely something we’ll try to get excluded from evidence by questioning the validity of the search.” She jotted down a few notes. “You were not planning to sell it, right?”
I swallowed down but didn’t answer.
“There have been some rumors going around Prep for a while now that there were a lot of drugs being bought and sold on the grounds. Everything from marijuana to depression meds to anti-anxiety pills to ADHD meds. Apparently, there were pain pills and cocaine, too. Fallon was the alleged ringleader. The police have been looking at social media and text messages and call records, too. They’ve been operating something of a sting using students…”
