Arizona Allspice

by Lewin, Renee

  “What, um, what should we do?” She averts her eyes and fiddles with the zippers on the pockets of her vest. She’s acting…shy? I’ve never seen her this way. She carries herself with confidence, certainty, and control. Does she think I meant we should stare lovingly into each other’s eyes or that I’ll demand we kiss each other just to placate my mom? I’m not that stupid.

  “We can watch TV or just talk until my mom gets home from work. Of course, I’ll feed you while you’re here. That’s a given.”

  She tries to hold back a smile, but I catch it. She shrugs. “Fine.”

  Three steak and pepper fajitas later she’s cool with me again. She tells me that her mom used to make fajitas, too. I’m smiling, she’s smiling. I feel great until I notice the minute scar on Elaine’s bottom lip and my stomach lurches. I haven’t noticed it since the first day Elaine took me to Canyon Outpatient. It has zero effect on how good she looks so I forgot it was even there.

  Ever since the accident, stupid stuff has been making me nervous. Like, if one of the girls calls me, instantly my heart beats faster and my palms get sweaty. And now, right in the middle of me enjoying this time with Elaine, a wave of panic rushes over me out of nowhere and completely ruins my mood. Why does this keep happening? Are these weird moods a result of my brain injury? Do near-death experiences leave a man jumpy for the rest of his life?

  “Update me, Laney. How’d you get that cut on your lip?”

  “Uh, remember that one time I got punched in the mouth during a really stupid fight?”

  “You’re kidding.”

  She searches my eyes and then leans all the way back in her chair. “You really don’t remember.”

  “That’s why I’m asking,” I say and worriedly run my fingers over a grainy irregularity in the surface of the dining room table.

  “For some odd reason I thought you remembered, but how could you? You don’t remember the fight between you and Manny at all.”

  “The last thing I recollect is you. You gave me the chips and the beer and I was walking back to Manny in the field and then suddenly I wake up in the hospital.”

  “You punched me.”

  She says it so nonchalantly that I think she’s joking. I smirk. “No.”

  She smirks back. “Yes. You and Manny were fighting and I tried to break it up. I got in the middle of you two and you accidently punched me. Joey, wait. Joey, wait!”

  I stumble over my fallen chair and try to escape, but she keeps following me. It keeps following me. The room is spinning. I don’t think my heart is beating right.

  “I’m not mad at you, Joey! It was an accident!”

  I’m mad at me. She pulls on my arm. She tries to meet my eyes but I can’t look at her and I can’t stay. I release myself from her grip. My eyes had been closed tight to not see her so I stumbled into something, the arm of the couch. I opened my eyes and aimed for my room again. My chest hurts. My legs are still moving. I made it through the door of my bedroom. She’s still behind me.

  “Joey, I forgive you. It was an accident. I know you didn’t mean it.”

  I’m going to faint. Her mouth…I’m going to faint. I can’t breathe. I stare up at the ceiling. “I can’tlook at youright now. I can’t!”

  “What am I? Hideous?”

  “No!—I did—that.—How can I—look-at-you-knowing-I…?” My lungs aren’t working right. They won’t let me breath.

  “Joey, you need to breathe.”

  “I-I-c-can’t.”

  “Sit down on the bed.”

  I sit and keep my eyes closed. She puts her hand on my back.

  “No!”

  She takes the hand away. I don’t want her comforting me. I hurt her. My head feels so light. The blood’s not going there. My heart’s not beating right. I’m dying. I must be dying.

  “You’re having a panic attack. I promise it’ll be over soon, but you have to breathe. Inhale through your nose to the count of four, hold four, exhale four and then hold again. Inhale, 2…3…4. Hold, 2…3…4, Exhale, 2…3…4. Hold, 2…3…4. Good. Keep breathing. I’ll be in the living room.”

  I watch her leave my room. She closes my door behind her, two…three…four…

  ******

  My face is splotchy. I look like one of those red-spotted lizards I’ve seen cooling beneath the shadow of our trailer. My eyelids are swollen and my eyes are red even though I haven’t been crying. It felt like I was going to die. Maybe I was crying and didn’t realize it. How did Elaine know what to do? Has she had one of these “panic attacks” before? I wouldn’t wish that experience on anyone. I don’t want to let Elaine see me like this, but she’s been sitting in the living room for almost an hour waiting on me. I run cold water at the bathroom sink and splash it over my face repeatedly, feeling the cool water against my hot skin. After a minute of that, I look somewhat normal, so I force myself to go talk to Elaine.

  I would never put my hands on a woman, but I did, so that’s a lie. I’m sure Elaine has never been disrespected like that by a guy. Not even by her ill father. I was so worried about what her father would do to her. I was the real danger. My stepfather planted rage in me and I’ll become him. I won’t be able to control that monster inside and I’ll hurt everyone. Even the people I love.

  Everything looks normal. Elaine must have picked up the chair I overturned. She’s snuggled into the couch watching Law & Order. She sits up when she sees me standing at the back of the sofa.

  “Hey,” she says surprised. “Better now?”

  I nod and fix my eyes on the top of the couch. It’s still hard to see her when I know what I’ve done to her. My mom has scars. One of them is at her eyebrow from when Mason’s ring cut into her.

  “Come sit with me.”

  I follow her orders and sit down on the other end of the couch. She just watches me look down at my hands, waiting for me to talk. I swallow past the lump in my throat.

  “I know the word ‘sorry’ sounds so impotent and worthless, but I can’t think of any other phrase except, I’m sorry. I’m sorry a thousand times over and I will never put my hands on you again.”

  “Again? I don’t think that’ll happen,” she chuckles, “I’ve learned my lesson. I thought that if I ran over and batted my pretty eyelashes that two raging men would stop fighting. Wrong.”

  “Well, I’ve learned my lesson too. I don’t think I’ll ever fight like that again.”

  “Your mom told me that you saved her from your stepfather, so I know you had it rough early on and you had to fight. I want to stress that what happened with me was an accident. You’re not a monster, okay?”

  I don’t know what to say. I didn’t want Elaine to know that happened to me and I was shocked that she knew what I was thinking.

  “Like I said, I’m not mad at you so I don’t want it to be weird between us. Besides, I think the scar makes me look dangerous and tough.” She turns her head so I can see the little scar on her mouth. She raises the corner or her lip and growls playfully and then kisses the air. She laughs. “Sexy, right?”

  I think it best not to answer that. I smile too widely. “You like being tough, huh?”

  “I enjoy it.”

  “But you’re not so tough, are you?” I smirk.

  “I’d hate for anyone to prove otherwise. I don’t want to have to hurt them too badly.”

  I shake my head. “I know about tough. Being tough is a tiring chore.” For the first time in our conversation Elaine looks away from me. “It’s been so nerve-wracking lately to face everybody as this weak person. I’m not as physically strong as I was before and that’s taken a real toll on, like, my ego. My anxiety has been through the roof and I figured out that it’s because I’m worried about losing my friends.”

  She looks at me quizzically. “You’re pretty well-loved, Joey. I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

  “Well-loved? Are you crazy?” I chuckle.

  “Don’t call me that,” she says curtly.

  “What?”
I ask confused.

  “Don’t use the word ‘crazy’ with me or anyone else in my family.”

  I exhale deeply. “Sorry.” I never cease to screw up, do I?

  “As far as I know, everyone in this town loves you,” she continues.

  You don’t. “A lot of people are afraid of me. My teammates are.” You are. “Sometimes my mother even gives me this look as if to say, I didn’t expect this from you. I wonder, you know, I just think to myself that they’re only friends with me because they’re either afraid of me or because I can help them. Not really for me.”

  “But that is you. Sometimes you have a bad temper, but you always stand up for the people who need it. You are the angry redhead with the big heart,” she smiles. “That’s you. And if you change into some completely different Joey they would gladly ask for the old one back. I can vouch for the fact that you are still the same person since the accident.”

  “I hear you, but” I pause to think. “I’m listening and it all makes sense and yet I still don’t believe any of it. If I’m the same person that I was before the accident then I’m not happy with that. I didn’t like that person. If I’m different now, which is how I feel, then I don’t like that either.”

  “You’re a perfectionist.”

  “Maybe,” I shrug.

  “No, I’m telling you you’re a perfectionist. You don’t have to actually be perfect to be a perfectionist.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I bet you look at some people you know and think to yourself, Wow! They’re perfect. They are confident, smart, they’ve got it all! They’ve got it completely together. I guarantee you that they don’t. They don’t, Joey. They have problems just like you. Their fighting all the thoughts in their heads every second of the day just like you do.”

  Her deep brown eyes seize me. I’m still certain that she’s as perfect as I think she is. “That’s deep, Elaine. So deep, I may never get to the bottom of it.”

  She laughs beautifully. “I know I sure haven’t.”

  “My thinking muscle hurts,” I joke.

  “Yeah, this is getting too profound. Let’s balance that out by watching some reality television.” She picks up the remote from the arm of the couch and flips through the channels and we find a show to make fun of. Forty-five minutes later, Mom walks into the house with a bag of groceries.

  “Hey guys!”

  “Hi Mom,” I smile.

  “Hi, Miss Amelia.”

  My mom walks over to me and we kiss on the cheek. “Hi, Baby.” Then she walks over to where Elaine is sitting and she kisses her on the cheek, too. “Hi, sweetheart.” Elaine looks shocked by that. I smile. Mom walks into the kitchen sending us questioning glances over her shoulder as she puts the groceries away.

  “What?” I ask grinning.

  “Are you guys having a fight? Why are you sitting so far apart on the couch?”

  Elaine glances at me. I glance at Elaine. “She’s just being shy around you,” I answer. Elaine’s eyes widen. “Come here,” I urge her. She glares at me. “Come closer.” Elaine glances at my mom who is smiling encouragingly, so she scoots to the middle of the couch. I take her arm and try to pull her the rest of the way, but she will not be moved unless it’s on her terms. I stare at her hard until she caves and moves closer to me. Close enough so that I am able to put my arm around her. “That’s better.” I hug her to me. My mom goes back to washing the dishes. Elaine stares blankly at the television. I sigh and watch the program as well. Then I feel something like fiery pincers taking a hold of my side. “Ow!” I squirm.

  Elaine looks up at me and bursts out in a maniacal laugh. That pinch seriously hurt!

  “Joey?” Mom calls from the kitchen, concerned.

  “I’m okay,” I laugh. “Elaine just…tickles too hard,” I say as I rub at my side with my fingers. I get comfortable with my arm around Elaine again. She pouts, but resigns herself to the seating arrangement. I watch TV and keep an ear on my mom who is busying herself around the house. At some point Elaine rests her head against my shoulder. I consider that a small victory. My mom walks into the living room.

  “Guess where I’m going?” she smiles.

  I eye my mother’s outfit nauseously. “To a street corner?”

  Elaine elbows me and my mom gives me a sad smile. I have never in my life seen my mother dress this way; Tight jeans, high heels, an off the shoulder blouse. And she’s wearing red lipstick. Red!

  “How could you say that to your mom?” Elaine scolds me.

  “He’s just being over-protective,” Mom says, “but he does owe me an apology.”

  “Sorry,” I grumble. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going out dancing,” she says excitedly. “I haven’t been out dancing in years.”

  “Who’s going to cook me dinner? You know my arm is still shaky sometimes,” I whine.

  “He’ll be fine, Miss Amelia. Enjoy yourself.”

  “Well,” she glances at me hesitantly, “okay. Goodnight, you two.”

  “Goodnight.”

  I sigh. “‘Night. Have fun.”

  Mom smiles and walks out the front door. I hear a car door close outside and I want to run to the window and see who it is that’s stealing my mother, but Elaine is resting against me and it’s probably best for me not to know. The car outside drives off. Instantly, Elaine stands up from the couch and heads for the door.

  “I’m going dancing, too,” she announces. “Peace.”

  I wave glumly. She turns around to sternly say, “And don’t ever do that again.” I smile angelically and nod. She rolls her eyes with an almost imperceptible smile on her lips and walks out into the night.

  ******

  I curl up in Manny’s bed with his notebook computer in my lap. The house is quiet. Uncle Frank is out joyriding in his rented Firebird for all I know. I search the Pima County Jail website to find out when the family visiting hours are. The simple webpage informs me that visitation takes place only once a month with a limit of two people per visit. That sheriff or whoever sets the rules for that jail is a criminal himself for only allowing one visit per month. It means we only have one chance to visit Manny: next Thursday. Which of us should visit Manny? Uncle Frank and I? Or Joey and I? My mind settles on Joey. I’m mad at him for being a jerk and tricking me this evening. He said we would watch a movie or talk and then his mother came in and he scammed me into cuddling with him. At the same time I am worried about him. He did have a panic attack today. His first one.

  Dad used to have panic attacks. That’s why I knew how to handle the situation. In my dad’s own words, a panic attack feels like a heart attack and asphyxiation happening to you at the same time. And every time it happens, you feel like it’s your final moments. I was a little hurt when Joey said he couldn’t look at me and screamed at me the moment my hand touched him. Hurt enough that I forgot he was saying irrational things because he was having a panic attack. I’m just used to my father allowing me to comfort him so it really bothered me when Joey lashed out at me. It made me jump, too. Joey is a strong guy and he’s uncontrollable when he’s emotional. He’s correct. Everyone does have a small fear of his anger. He’s incorrect to think his friends only stick around because they’re afraid of him. They stick around because he’s a cool person despite his anger problems.

  An image of Raul’s bruised shins comes to mind. When Raul’s team, La Tormenta, went against Las Chupasangres, Joey’s team, he would come home with black and blue shins. Joey was doing it on purpose, but Raul didn’t want to seem like a punk and complain to the ref so he’d take it most of the time. He and I both thought it was Joey being a sore loser. I can think of some other motives for his actions now. I want to call Raul. Is it wrong to call him? It’s not wrong to see how he’s getting along. Why hasn’t he called me to see how I’m doing? He’s probably just ashamed. I intended to call and thank him for telling the cops the truth, but never did get around to it. I search for my cell phone and find it buried beneath the blank
et. Raul is still number 3 on my speed dial. I press down ‘3’ and put the phone to my ear. It rings four times.

  “¿Qué?” A man barks into the phone. I’ve never heard this person answer Raul’s phone before“Sorry. Wrong number,” I saybut I know exactly who it is.

  Why didn’t Raul tell me? Didn’t he know I was here? I’ll always be there for him. I promised him that. He could always talk to me and he told me what he’d do to that man if he ever came back. “He’s gonna kill him,” I whisper.