Iván was astonished at the amount of packing I had done, and pretty mad that I had done it at all. “It was supposed to be a nice surprise so you don’t have to pay the movers so much,” I told him the next day when he asked me about the stacked boxes.
“I didn’t want you to be to be here slaving away. I thought you would have a vacation from work, too.” Well, he probably wasn’t going to be impressed by the clean house, then. He stopped himself. “Thank you. But we’re going to let the movers do the rest. If we can get out of here by December thirtieth, they will let me out of the lease and give the apartment to someone else. What do you think? Will you feel up to it?”
“Of course!” Easy to say when I was still lounging in bed. “It won’t take me very long to get my stuff together.”
“You don’t have very much,” he said, frowning.
I made a little motion with my shoulder. At one point, all my belongings had traveled with me in a garbage bag. I had definitely stepped up from that.
Iván was back at the pool, working with the swimmers a lot more since they had more time over the university vacation. He stopped by the new house one day on his way home and, as I suspected, was not happy that I had cleaned it. Grateful, but not happy.
“It’s only fair,” I told him. “I don’t want to be taking advantage…”
He raised his eyebrows and just looked at me, so I cut that out that line of argument.
Our moving day was crazy. It turned out that Iván had a drawerful of medals, from everywhere, including the Olympics. He just kept them tangled up in a drawer. The mover who found them went crazy and everyone came running to look. I packed that box myself. He also had more clothing than a department store and the movers went back and forth, back and forth out of his closet with wardrobe boxes. They were pleasantly surprised by my lack of crap.
Right as they were rolling down the door of the truck, I remembered. “Mikey!”
Iván turned, startled. “What about him?”
“His boxes are in the storage area.”
“Maura, maybe we could leave them. The building manager will toss them for us.”
I stared at him. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
“He was willing to leave it all and go to Mexico. Why would we have to carry his boxes around with us?”
“Fine,” I told him, glaring. “I’ll get them myself. Go ahead and leave with the movers and I’ll get a car over later.” He put his hand on my arm but I pulled it away, stomping ahead of him as he told the big truck to wait, that we had a few more boxes.
The storage area was down a narrow flight of stairs. I felt my heart start to beat harder. I fumbled with the key in the lock.
“Maura? I’ll do this. Go back upstairs,” Iván told me.
I ignored him. This was my brother’s mess, and I was going to do it myself.
It was cold in the storage room and dark. A small aisle was lined with chain link cells packed with people’s extra furniture, skis, cardboard boxes. All the fencing reminded me of visiting Mikey in jail. But it was just so close in here. The ceiling was too low and everything was so confining with the towering piles of stuff. The aisle between the storage units was too constricted. My chest was constricting, too. I dropped the keys and couldn’t find the right one to put into the padlock on the gate to get Mikey’s boxes.
“Hey!” Iván’s hands came down on my shoulder. “Go upstairs, now.”
I had to hold on to the chain links to pull myself along the aisle. When I got outside, I sat down on the front step of the building and took some deep breaths. Oh, glory. It was just as bad as ever.
Iván came up carrying two boxes and directed one of the movers where to go to find the rest. He sat down next to me. “Ok?”
“Fine. Sorry.”
“Let’s go to the car and meet them over at the house.”
We were both quiet as we merged onto the bridge. “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for getting all that and storing it for me.”
He nodded, looking at the road.
I figured I should be honest with him. “I told you that after the first year, they didn’t keep Mikey and me placed together, right?”
He nodded again.
“So, it was because he got in a big fight. It was because of me.”
“What happened?”
Oh, this was hard to say. “We were new in the house. There were already two kids there, a boy and a girl, older than Mikey. They told us that they wanted to play hide and seek. The girl said she knew a good place. She took me down to the basement and showed me a box, like soldiers used to have. A little footlocker.” I could hear a whistle in my breathing and tried to calm myself down. Better just to tell him. It wasn’t a big deal. “I didn’t want to get in, but I wanted her to like me and I wanted to play the game. It was small…”
I stopped for a moment and looked out the window, watching the wires holding up the bridge span flash by. “I barely fit inside, even though I was pretty little. I had to curl up with my face on my knees, and she had to sit on the lid to get it closed. It pressed into my back. Then I heard her lock the box, a click from the outside, very faint.” I wiped off my face. “I couldn’t hear anything else through the box and it was totally dark. I couldn’t breathe very well.”
“Maura.” His voice was very deep.
“I don’t know how long I was in there. It was a few hours, at least. I was trying to scream but I couldn’t get a big breath, and no one could hear me inside the box in the basement anyway. Mikey was going crazy, I guess. The other kids told him that I had left, run away, but he knew I wouldn’t leave him. He tore the house apart trying to find me and got into a fight with the bigger boy and the dad too, when he tried to stop them. A physical fight. Finally, the girl admitted where I was. I wasn’t doing so well.”
I tasted a little tang of blood and made myself stop biting my lip. “After a while, I guess they took me to the hospital but I don’t remember. But they took Mikey away. He was only trying to help me, but no one would listen. That was why they put him in a new placement and it was a really bad one.” I blew out a long, quiet breath. “Anyway, that’s why I get scared. I start thinking that I can feel the box pressing on my back and that there’s not enough air.”
A funny noise came out of my chest, like a sob. I cleared my throat. “That’s the story of why I freak out,” I told him. “It happened a long time ago, but I’m still not over it. Maybe I won’t ever be, but I feel like it’s getting a little better. I went in the parking garage and I was on a crowded bus and it was all right.” Oh, glory. That sounded so pathetic.
Iván just reached over and took my hand. Even though with his skills as a driver he probably should have kept both hands on the wheel, I held onto it.
Chapter 11
“It just looks weird,” he complained.
I tilted my head. We had moved—Iván had moved—the living room furniture about ten different times, positioning it this way and that way. It still didn’t look right.
“It’s just that all your furniture is really modern,” I said finally, “and the house isn’t. It looks a little out of place. Maybe a few pieces of modern furniture would look nice if they were mixed in with older things too.” Really, the only thing that seemed at home in the room was my flea market lamp. I had to say, it looked awesome.
My dream for practically my whole life had been to have a house to decorate (in my fantasies, it had been my own house that I owned and where I lived with Mikey, but this current situation was closer than I’d ever been before). In real life, outside of my dreams, decorating was harder than it looked.
The move was also a little more difficult than I had anticipated. I was feeling totally better, but there was still a lot of work to do. The kitchen was half-unpacked, as was Iván’s room, but we couldn’t find the paring knife and I was beginning to think the movers stole it, along with Iván’s favorite soccer ball from his youth which he swore was also missing. I sat down on the couch. Movi
ng had never been my favorite thing but it was certainly easier when you were carrying most of your belongings in a few crates and a duffle bag instead of what seemed to be hundreds of boxes.
“What do you think about the paint?” I asked him. I had put several large swatches on the wall, the best way to pick a color according to the people at the paint store.
Iván stared at it. “I can’t see a difference. Is there a difference?”
“Iván! That’s totally a warm white, but the one on the left has grey undertones. See?” I pointed. “Do you want white in this room, anyway?”
He threw himself down next to me on the couch. “Let’s give it a break. It’s New Year’s Eve. I don’t want to use up all my energy pushing furniture around. We’re going out, remember?”
Yes, I did. We were going to a huge party in San Francisco, fancy fancy. I had pulled out my dress from the vintage store to wear again. But I had gotten a better pair of shoes, heels that made me even taller but hurt a lot less. I took a long time getting ready, putting my hair up and adding a lot more make-up than I usually did. I had finally found my mascara, so I couldn’t accuse the movers of stealing that anymore.
Iván was waiting for me when I came downstairs. Oh, glory. I liked him with the beard, in a pair of jeans. Without the beard, in his tuxedo, I was about to faint. He was just drop-dead, full on gorgeous. I licked my lips involuntarily.
“You look beautiful,” he told me, smiling.
“Thank you,” I said, mad that I sounded shy and kind of giggly. “I like your, um, your look.” What was I saying?
“I have something I brought back from Spain. I was going to give it to you on the sixth, el Día de los Reyes Magos, but maybe you could use it tonight.”
He took a box from the table. “At least the movers didn’t steal this, like the umbrellas.”
“And all my hair ties.” I opened the box as he held it and saw a square of black silk. I took it out and unfolded a beautiful shawl, black with black embroidery of flowers and leaves, with long fringe. It was absolutely stunning. I carefully wrapped it around my shoulders. It was so soft and light.
“It’s called a mantón. I got it in Madrid.” He ran a finger over a rose draped over my arm. “The man there does it all by hand.”
“Someone embroidered this by hand?” I looked closely at the design. I couldn’t imagine the hours and hours of work it must have taken.
Iván nodded. “It’s to help keep you warm on these freezing California nights,” he said, smiling. “Are you ready?”
I nodded. “Thank you. I love it.”
He nodded again, still smiling at me. “I thought of you often while I was in Spain.”
The party was bigger and swankier than I could have imagined, in an incredible hotel on one of the hills in the city. I kept my arm through Iván’s and my shawl around my shoulders. It felt a little like armor to me—I was not the best in these big social scenes. I certainly didn’t have a lot of experience with them. Of course, Iván knew a ton of people and we stopped every few feet to say hello to someone new. Apparently some of them remembered me from the dinner at the restaurant weeks before.
“It’s still you?” a man asked, peering at me. “Wow, nicely done,” he told me. “Iván, I must say, it’s a surprise.”
“Pardon me?” I answered. I had a sinking suspicion that I understood what he was saying.
Iván walked us past him without saying a word. “We’ll see who else is here.” He spotted another friend from somewhere and we talked to him and his wife for quite a while. We ate a delicious dinner, and then an orchestra started playing in an adjoining room. “Let’s dance,” Iván told me, holding out his hand. What woman could resist him? I put my hand in his and let him lead me to the dance floor.
“So, the last time I danced with a partner was in tenth grade at Homecoming, I believe.” I put my hand on his shoulder. Glory, he filled out this suit well.
“You didn’t dance at your prom?” Iván smiled.
“I skipped it.”
His face darkened as he realized why: Robin. I was already living with him my junior and senior years, so prom had been out. I tugged on his shoulder to distract him. “Should I start off with a curtsey? I make no promises about my skill level, ballroom-wise, but I know I have rhythm.”
As it turned out, he had rhythm too, and he knew how to dance. We glided across the floor, with him spinning me and dipping me and the two of us laughing constantly, then when the song ended, I danced with a bunch of other people I had met, which was not as fun at all.
“Are you and Iván a couple?” my current partner asked me suddenly.
“Me? Iván?” I felt a hot blush move across my cheeks. “We’re friends.”
“I guess that makes more sense. Are you gay?”
“No.”
“Do you want to go out?”
“No. No, thank you.”
He shrugged. “Thought I might as well try it.”
“Sorry.”
The word seemed to spread around that Iván and I were not together. The next two guys I danced with also asked me out. Then one asked me to go to Greece to saling on his yacht. I figured there had to be some very hard-up men in this town. Iván and I danced again, and I told him that, laughing.
“Why do you think so?” he asked me, amused.
“Because I’ve gotten four offers to take me out, one to go to as far as Europe. How desperate must they all be?” I laughed again.
Iván didn’t find anything about it funny. “Who’s trying to take you to Europe?”
I shrugged. “I don’t even remember his name. I said no, if you’re wondering.”
“I don’t want to talk about anyone else.” He executed a number of quick turns and I had to stay on my toes, literally and figuratively, to keep up with him. His hand on the small of my back pulled me closer, and I rested my cheek on his chest, sighing. Now this was dancing.
“It’s almost midnight.” The crowd began to count down. I picked up my head and smiled at Iván.
“I’m glad I’m here with you,” I said.
“Happy New Year, Maura.” He leaned down and kissed me.
At first I think it was just a traditional New Year’s kiss. He pressed his lips against mine, soft but firm, too, and then drew back to look at me. We stared at each other for a moment. Then he bent and kissed me again, and I lost track of the fact that we were on a dance floor, surrounded by people, with confetti and balloons and streamers and voices singing “Auld Lang Syne.” I just felt Iván, so close to me, his tongue stroking mine. He raised his palm to my cheek and with his other arm he pressed me tightly to his hard chest. We could have been there for seconds or for hours.
A balloon popped and I pulled away. Iván kept his hand on my cheek. “I’m not going to push you, or rush you,” he told me quietly. “But this is what I want.”
“Kissing?” Sex? is I wanted to ask.
“You.”
My thoughts flew out the window, soaring around the roofs of San Francisco, taking my heart with them. Then one thing came back to me. Something Julia had said: Iván had a woman in every city.
And then came the next thought: there was a lot he didn’t know about me. I had told him some, but not all. I hadn’t told anyone the all, and I didn’t know if I ever would.
“I don’t know,” I said. It suddenly terrified me. “I don’t want to—we’re friends, if I—” What would he do if I said no? Would I lose him? What if I said yes? I could lose him either way. I was clutching the sleeves of his tuxedo.
Iván looked very serious. “I’m not going to push you. Just think about it. Think about me.” He took my head and held me to his chest and I clung to him, my eyes closed. I realized that he was never far from my thoughts, anyway.
∞
“Maura!” Benji ran off the bus and flung his arms around me. My schedule this semester was going to be a little better with getting to his house in time to monitor him getting off the bus. I had worked it out.<
br />
I felt a huge smile on my face. “Hey, buddy!” We hugged, then walked together around the back of the house to the kitchen door. I kept my arm around his thin shoulders. But actually, he seemed to have filled out, a little.
It was so strange to be back in this house. Joana hugged me too, studying my face. “You look better.”
“I’m not sick anymore.”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t mean that you don’t look sick. I mean you look better.”
I shrugged. “Thanks. How was your trip?” I asked Benji, as Joana put down a plate of fruit and cheese.
“It was so fun!” He told me about his grandma, his aunt and uncle and cousins, their farm and house, their animals. It sounded like he had loved every minute of it.
“How’s your mom?” I threw in, and my eyes met Joana’s. I wasn’t going to ask about Mr. Dorset.
“She’s fine. She was busy in Atlanta. We didn’t see her much. Anyway, they got geese since the last time I was there! And maybe in the summer there will be goslings. Do you know how goslings come to be?” he questioned me. “If the gander loves the female goose very much, then—”
“I get the basics, thanks,” I said quickly.
“I thought you didn’t know too much about science,” Benji explained. “I had to tell you all about Pluto.”
Joana turned back to the sink, shoulders shaking. “What was your mom doing in Atlanta?” I asked him.
He shrugged. “Business stuff. That’s what she usually does. She got an apartment there.”
My eyebrows went up. “An apartment, or a hotel room?”
“Oh, I mean a hotel room. It was really fancy. My grandma and I met her for dinner and saw it but later they had words.”
“Had words?”
“That’s the polite way to say that they got into an argument, my grandma says. I told her that my mom and my dad have words a lot. But my aunt and uncle don’t, at least that’s what my cousins said. Did I tell you about the hay? How you can slide on it?” He was off and running for another ten minutes about the barn. One thing he never mentioned, to my utter happiness, was anything about Blazer or anything to do with a screen.
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