by Ines Vieira
“Do you always have to be so crass?” She slowly opens her eyes and looks at me amused.
“So now I’m crass, am I?”
“Yes, you are. The shit that comes out of your mouth would make an inmate in cell block eight blush.” She smirks at my remark, but as I say it, I can't seem to look away from that same foul mouth. Like I said the girl has killer lips.
“What can I say? I grew up with worse being said all around me. I’ve got an older brother and more cousins than I can count. Don't expect me to apologize for being me. I like my dirty mouth just fine, thank you very much!” she puffs out and raises her chin to the sky to drive her point through.
“Jess, I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“So tell me what was so funny?” she asks stretching her arms over her head. Her hair is all over the place, and her eyes still hold that dreamy look after a couple of hours of sleep. Again I think how sexy this girl is and how what comes out of her mouth, ruins the perfect package. I pride myself on being respectful but this girl seems to get under my skin, so before I can stop myself I tell her exactly what I was contemplating.
“I was just thinking how the past two hours have been the best ones I’ve ever spent in your company. It’s a shame you’re awake now, ‘cause I definitely prefer you out cold.”
“Asshole,” she spits back but I see her trying to stifle a small smile, so it’s hard to keep mine in check.
“I don’t remember you being this vocal in high school. As I recall, the Quaid Stevens I went to school with, barely said three words to me those whole four years.”
“I’m sure I said more than three words.”
“Really? Because I don’t remember even one small chat. I mean this is the most I heard you speak since I’ve known you.”
“First, you don’t know me, Jessica. Second, yes I guess we never did talk before.”
“Well, whose fault is that? Not mine. I was more than polite to you the one time we went out.” I can't help but laugh at her statement.
“Really?? That was you being polite? You completely ignored me the whole date and acted like a spoilt brat the whole night through. You even went as far as trying to hook up with a friend of mine while we were still on our date!”
“I did no such thing! How the hell was I supposed to make small talk with someone who barely said a word throughout the whole date? And don’t say it was me. You were like that with everyone. So don’t act all surprised if I got bored and tried to converse with my friends at some lame ass party,” she chokes out while staring at me, challenging me to deny that she’s right. I hate to admit it, but she’s got me there.
“Ok, I’ll give you that one.”
“So what happened? Came out of the silent closet in college, did you?” I laugh again. She’s actually funny when she’s trying to be sassy.
“No. No closet.” She continues to stare at me to get an actual answer. Screw it. I have to say something, or else she won’t drop it.
“I had a stutter.” Her eyebrow rises, interested in this response.
“Growing up I had a stutter, so I preferred to talk only when I needed to. It got better before high school, but I was so used to only talking when talked to, that I guess it kind of stuck, you know?”
“You’re talking now.”
“Of course I am. It’s only us two in the car. If I didn’t talk with you, then you’d look like a crazy person talking to herself.
“He talks, and he’s a comedian! Who would of thunk it?” she says raising her hands up in the air. Now we’re both laughing, and I feel myself relax a little.
“So how far away are we anyway?”
“Couple of hours. If you weren’t so squeamish, I could probably get us there in less.” I won’t dare go over the speeding limit with Jess by my side. She acted like a petrified deer in front of a firing squad the moment she entered the car. I wouldn’t play on a person’s fears even if the person in question is Jessica Silva, but I have to admit that not pushing my car to see what she’s got, on the open road is a real killjoy. I was looking forward to driving this baby home without being limited to sticking with this senior citizen speed we’re doing now.
“Don't you even think about it, Stevens, or I’ll make you stop the car right here on the freeway if you even think about adding pressure to that gas pedal!” she says with her most menacing voice. Again, it’s pretty cute how she’s trying to intimidate me into behaving.
“Yeah? I think you need to rethink that plan of yours. Too many deathly faults in it. You would either get run over by a car or worse if I let you out now. Not to mention there are a lot of wackos who would love to give a pretty little thing like you a ride. So I guess you’re at my mercy, huh?” I smirk but as I say it, there is a faint blush that appears on her cheeks, and she quickly looks away to her side window.
I have to admit that was the last thing I’d expect to see. The girl has always been very clear about her dislike of me, so why the blush? And why does the thought of having this blushing Jessica Silva at my mercy appeal to me?
“Well, well, well. It seems that New York has given you quite a mouth. Still, don’t even try it. We’ll get home when we get home. No rush,” she says as she glares back to the road, no lingering blush in sight.
“And no need for small talk either. Although I enjoy seeing you have grown out of giving people the silent treatment, let’s not get crazy. No need for you to break tradition on my account. Silence is golden after all.” And with that little parting remark, she shuffles herself closer to her side door and resumes her napping posture.
“Fine by me,” I growl. As I said, the girl knows how to push my buttons in the most aggravating way. The faster I take her home, the sooner I will be done with putting up with her smart mouth. No matter how tempting that mouth looks to me.
Chapter 3
Jess
When we reach my street, I could already see a dark figure pace up and down my front lawn. Of course, dad would be too excited to stay still inside our home or work his way through his anxiousness.
I hadn't been home since late August. For my dad, that was a lifetime without his baby girl. I was always the casula, which meant that I was the last to leave and the hardest to let go of. Quaid hadn't even managed to park the car in front of our house before dad was already opening my side door.
“Filha, que saudades,” he whispered in my ear as he hugged me for dear life.
“Pai, easy. You'll break me even before I step foot in the house.”
“Doubtful,” I hear Quaid murmur as he steps out of the car.
Douche.
When Quaid shuts his door, dad finally acknowledges that we've got company.
“Well Quaid Stevens, my God, I wouldn't have believed it if I didn't see it with my own eyes, but I do believe you’re even bigger than you were the last time I saw you.”
What the hell?
“Thanks, Carlos. I guess I did grow a little.”
Carlos???
“Well let me get a good look at you, filho.” My dad puts his hands on Quaid’s shoulders, and I almost laugh at the sight of dad on his heels trying to reach him. Yep, Quaid is one huge boy. Boy? Is he still a boy if he’s taller and larger than most grown-ups I've met? Maybe not a boy, but a man... I was yet to be convinced.
“You look good, filho. Are you in a hurry? Do you have time for something warm to drink or something to eat? My Anna has been cooking up a storm all morning; I’m sure there is something that a growing boy like you would like.”
Crap!
Quaid gives me one look and sees that the invitation is one-sided. I would rather not prolong our time together more than necessary. I see a glimmer in his eye, and I cringe at the thought of him enjoying my discomfort. He then lets out a weak laugh and, starts to apologize to my father.
“I should be heading home, too. My folks were expecting me home an hour ago.” Like it's my fault I wanted him to follow the speed limit. Dad looks over at me and seems to understand.
“Dad, enough. Quaid needs to get going,” I say more in the hopes that I don't have to continue to watch this back and forth of comradery. How the hell do they even know each other? I mean sure Plymouth is small but did dad have to know everyone so well? Especially Quaid Stevens?
“Okay then, but you have to promise to drop by before you two kids head back to New York. I want to hear all about Columbia.”
Oh for god's sake.
“Dad, let Quaid go home, por amor de deus.”
“Yes of course. Sorry son. Just tell me how much Jess owes you for the ride, and I’ll let you go on your way,” Dad says already taking out his wallet from his back pocket.
Double Crap!
It kills me that I didn’t pay Quaid before my dad thought he should be the one to front the bill for me. It’s too late to say anything now. My father might not be a prideful man, but he is when it comes to providing for his family. I can’t steal that from him.
“Please, Carlos put your money away. It was my pleasure bringing Jess home for the holidays. I couldn’t in good conscience accept your money,” Quaid says and winks at me with his toothpaste commercial smile.
My jaw drops to the ground. Son of a bitch. He hated every minute of our ride, just like I had, yet to my father he’s painting it like it was his freaking honor to bring me home for Christmas. The nerve of him!
“That’s extremely nice of you, Quaid. Well, now I can’t take no for an answer. Tomorrow night we’re having our Christmas party, and I insist that you come also. There will be food and music and we Silva’s love to have the house full, isn’t that right, Jess? The more, the merrier!” Dad says, and I swear my father sees a fucking halo above Quaid’s perfect head.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to impose,” Quaid replies, and I hear the reluctant tone my father refuses to accept. Quaid isn’t thrilled about having to see me twice in one week either if he can help it. HA! That makes two of us, buddy! But saying no to Carlos Silva is a sin in itself, and both Quaid and I know it. Dad is the type of person that you can’t help but let into your heart and therefore to refuse him is pointless.
“Nonsense! We’d love to have you, and I won't take no for an answer,” Dad beams with a smile so broad, it overpowers his whole face. See? Pointless. Quaid nods in defeat as dad pats him on the back looking at me like he’s just won the Powerball.
“Okay, dad. We’ve established Quaid’s coming tomorrow, so can you please let him go home now?” I say shuffling my feet from side to side, anxious for this to end and for me to finally get inside to the comfort of my own home and away from the knowledge that I’ll have to interact with Quaid Steven’s one more time. Sorry, make that two times, since I still need his ride to get back to school after Christmas break. Shit! I have really lousy karma, don’t I? Must have done some awful stuff in my past life for me to be reaping all this crapiness this life around.
Quaid takes the hint, and both he and dad say their final goodbyes. When Quaid's car is no longer in sight, I finally let out a breath that I feel I must have been holding since I left my dorm and came face to face with Quaid Stevens.
“It’s good to have you home, filha. The house has been awfully quiet without you here,” Dad says as he hugs me tightly and I can't help but enjoy the protectiveness of my dad’s arms. Yes, now I’m finally home. I know that legally I’m an adult, and before I left for college, I thought that I was so ready to be my own woman and make my way into this world. Even though I still believe that I’m going to knock NYC on its ass, even if it kills me, it feels good to be in my dad’s arms once again. I have always been a daddy’s girl, even if I refuse to admit it to another living soul.
“I doubt that very much. I’m just louder than the rest of the family, that’s why you might have noticed the difference,” I chuckle. My dad smiles and holds out his arms to look at me. Its been just a few months, but he’s looking at me like he’s memorizing every visual change, not that there is much of it for him to admire. I’m still short, still too curvy, even if I’ve missed some meals back at Columbia so that I could cram one more study session to try to keep up with everybody else. Believe me, I thought that I could benefit from a couple of missed meals, but if I lost weight, I’ve been too busy to notice.
“My little girl doesn’t look so little to me anymore. But she does look tired.” His eyebrows scrunch together, and I know that look all too well. It’s dad’s tell sign he’s worried about me. Yeah, can’t have that. He’s got too much on his plate already for me to add my baggage on top of it.
“I’m not tired, Pai, just sleepy. I slept all the way here, so what you are seeing is just the result of sleeping awkwardly in a car seat, nothing else, Dad, so quit your worrying. I’m good, promise,” I say smiling at him and placing a kiss on his cheek to make sure he buys it. He puts his arms around me, and we finally start making our way up to the front porch.
“You didn’t tell me that it would be Quaid driving you home? If I recall correctly, I didn’t think you cared much for the lad,” my father utters as he opens our front door.
“It was a shock to me, too. Didn’t even consider him being my ride until he pulled up to my dorm and I never said I didn’t care for Quaid, Dad. I said I didn’t see what all the fuss was about. Everyone here in Plymouth seems to think that Quaid Stevens walks on water when all I see is just another jock.”
He laughs at me amused, and I can already hear the music coming from the kitchen where I’m sure my mom is cooking all my favorite desserts. I’m not a foodie, but I do have a sweet tooth, and many would cringe at how much sugar I can put away in record time. Even from the living room, I can already smell and hear my double fudge chocolate cake yelling out to me, screaming that it can’t wait until I devour it with a pint of vanilla ice cream. Yeah, now that’s a welcome home gift all on its own.
“Yes, well I agree with you that maybe everyone here loves Quaid for his athleticism, but the boy has much more to him than that. I agree he was the best linebacker I ever saw play high school football, but the boy has as big of a heart as he has presence on the field. I’ve seen it with my own eyes, so believe me when I say, that Quaid is a little more than a “jock” as you put it.”
“Jesus, Dad. Are we still talking about Quaid Stevens? Or do you miss giving me a lecture so much you picked the first thing that came to mind?” I roll my eyes feigning annoyance, but can’t help the small smile that comes out. I even missed my dad’s lectures, so can’t I blame him for going there now.
“Sim, Sim, you’re right. I guess I have missed that, too. Come, come. Your mother is just as anxious to see you as I was. Both Ronnie and Cass have already popped by and should be back shortly, so let's get you settled so you can tell us all about your new life in the big apple.”
Great.
I wanted to forget Columbia and all things NYC over this Christmas break, but something tells me I’ll be talking non-stop about it. I'll have to play it out like it’s the best fucking thing ever, when in fact, I’d be happier living under the same roof as my parents and just go to community college. Yeah, can't say that out loud, now can I? No, not when I’ve been gung-ho about moving away to New York since I was a twelve, and worked my ass off to get there. I hate lies. I hate them with a passion, so me having to spend the next two weeks omitting my true feelings to my family and friends is going to suck balls.
Just Great.
Fucking Karma.
Chapter 4
Quaid
“Dude, are you coming or what? Ronnie is probably already inside waiting for me,” Decker exhales looking over at the Silva Residence.
What the hell am I even doing here? I mean it's my second day back home, and I could be doing a thousand different things rather than being dragged to a party that I don't know if I even want to attend. If it wa
sn’t for Carlos’ insistence and added by Decker’s non-stop whining, I could be chilling in my room or playing pool with dad in our gaming room, but instead, I’m here at little Jessica Silva’s home, where I literally, only know a handful of people. This is going to be awkward as hell. Maybe I can just make a quick appearance and then be on my merry way. Once Ronnie arrives, Decker won't even notice if I give him the slip and bail out early.
With this strategy in mind, I smile at my friend who is already pacing the sidewalk eager to get inside. You can hear music and people laughing and talking all the way from across the street. There are also a few guys who I remember attending Riverside, joking about, on the front porch and some leaning on the rail with red solo cups. If I didn’t know any better, this would be a typical Friday night at my fraternity back at Columbia. The difference between those frat parties and the Silva’s Christmas party that I can tell is that the guests’ ages range from toddlers to their grandparents. You can tell this is a family environment, even if it's as loud as my frat brothers’ ragers.
Once we start walking up the stairs, Decker stops to answer his phone, but Carlos Silva is already at the door welcoming me with his signature smile. There is something about Carlos that no one is immune to. He and I have a similar understanding of what a community needs. I can’t recall any volunteer work I have done in the past that I didn’t see Carlos there also by my side. Be it at the soup kitchen by the pier, or cleaning up our beaches after the summer crowd left our peaceful sands, or even dropping off food to those families we knew were having a hard time making ends meet. And every time we turned back to go home, after hours of building, cleaning, or whatever the task was, while others looked tired, sweaty and ready to call in the day, Carlos Silva looked like he was rejuvenated by the whole experience.
I could relate to him so much in that sense. The inner peace you felt with just one selfless act, was too addictive not to repeat over and over again. We may come into this world alone, but we shouldn’t have to suffer isolated. Sometimes I feel that brotherhood has become obsolete in this world. It’s easier to look away from suffering when it’s not smacked right in front of you and sometimes not even then. How many people cross the street when they see a homeless person asking for help, or just pretend that they are looking at their iPhone and pass the person sitting on the street with hunger in their eyes? How many switch the channel when they see another horrible crisis on the news that has inflicted death and chaos? How many live in their private bubble ignorant to the fact that another child has gone to school hungry because their parents have been laid off, with no prospects of securing new ways to support themselves or feed their children? Brotherhood has become an alien sentiment to so many. But there are still those that hold it deep in their hearts as a motto to live by. As their way of life. In my life, I have met very few people that have the abundance of compassion and are willing to do something about it.
