Arizona Allspice

by Lewin, Renee

  Success! “Of course I remembered your favorite meal. I’ll never forget how you wolfed it down the first time you ate it.”

  Elaine rolls her eyes at me before seating herself around the table. It’s not long before she forks a piece of chicken and mango. I follow her lead. She might have her guard up, but her enjoyment of the salad is apparent. The way she holds the food in her mouth, the food I cooked with my own hands, and savors it is sensual. Somehow, I refocus on my goal: baiting the true Elaine and making her stay for good.

  “Hey, remember our acting skills that night I woke up at the hospital?” I smile. “It’s kind of funny, looking back at it.”

  Elaine shrugs her shoulders and continues chewing.

  “Think about it. I wake up out of a coma. How soap opera is that? I open my eyes and I’m like ‘…Huh?’ Mom was crying, ‘My son. Are you okay?’ ‘I, uh, I think so, Mama.’ ‘Boohoohoo! I’m so happy you’re alive. Now tell me why the hell I didn’t know Elaine was your girlfriend!’ ‘She isn’t my girlfriend!’ You give me some desperate, guilt-inducing puppy dog eyes. ‘You’re my girlfriend? Oh yeah! I remember. Uh huh, we’re a couple and stuff. Yeah, Elaine and I make out pretty hard, Mom.’”

  Elaine shakes her head and chuckles lightly. “Where are you going with this, you perv?”

  “Nowhere in particular.” I say innocently and bite into a juicy slice of mango. “I’ve just been thinking about the interesting moments we’ve shared. Like my first day of therapy when you helped me get dressed.”

  “I recall it as the time you almost went to therapy shirtless and barefoot,” she smirks.

  “But I wasn’t shirtless and barefoot.” I smile. “Because you’re a kind-hearted person who helped me when I was in need.”

  “Didn’t you notice what I dressed you in? You looked homeless,” she laughs at me. She pauses to eat more salad and then continues laughing.

  I frown at being the subject of her joke. “Why’d you let me leave the house looking like that?”

  “‘Cause you were annoying me.” She pierces a lettuce leaf with her fork.

  Wait a minute! She’s distracting me from remembering the nice things she did. Oh, she’s good. She almost led me completely off course.

  “That’s not what happened. I had to wear that shirt because it was the only button-down I had. And you weren’t embarrassed to be out in public with me. You invited me out to the restaurant for lunch.”

  She shrugs and chews. “I was hungry.”

  “Okay, well, what about that time you went all Mama Bear at Mr. Jeremy’s store?”

  Elaine laughs aloud and gives me a beautiful smile. Success again! “Mama Bear?” She arches an eyebrow.

  “Don’t deny it! People were crowded around the truck like I was part of a freak show and you scared them all off. I thank you.”

  “I did it because I wanted to pump my gas in peace.” Her tone is unassertive. I watch as she rakes her fork across the dusting of spices on the surface of her chicken. To my delight, she adds to the conversation with her own reminiscence. “Remember when you conned me into snuggling on the couch with you in front of your mother?”

  I flash a wicked smile. “Very fondly.”

  “Let me remind you of the punishment you received that day: my fingers digging into your flesh.”

  I hiss. “Hey. You hurt me pretty bad. I still have a mark on my side.”

  Surprise widens her guilty eyes. “You do?”

  “No.”

  She glares at me, but I can tell her heart isn’t in it. Her heart still yearns for our friendship, I think.

  Elaine lays her fork down and crosses her arms. “So, we take a trip down Memory Boulevard and then I’m supposed to forget how you disrespected me yesterday?”

  Foiled! “No, I was going to wrap by apologizing for that. I shouldn’t have brushed your feelings off just because the other girls don’t seem to mind my jokes. You are not other girls.”

  “I’m glad you realized that,” she nods and sips some iced tea.

  “Are we friends again?” I ask eagerly. “I can’t really tell.”

  “I’m not sure you know what it means to be a good friend, Joey,” she murmurs as she stares down at her food. “You were supposed to be my best friend. I needed you in Palo Verde and you walked out on me.”

  My shoulders slump from disappointment and shame. I know I could have handled the situation better. I could have stayed with her even though I didn’t agree with what she was doing. It rips me up inside that our friendship could end over what I did. “I told you how sorry I was when I called you that night. I just wanted you to live in a home that’s safe. I was desperate to keep you out of harm’s way. I don’t get why you have to keep punishing me for something I did to protect you. Doesn’t it matter that I didn’t mean to hurt you?”

  She shakes her head ‘no’. Her mouth trembles. “It should, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Maybe I’m just a hateful person, but I can’t let it go. Even though my Mom taught me better than to hold so much hate in my heart, I’m filled with so much anger,” her voice strains. “I’m just so angry.” Her brown eyes smolder but there’s also helplessness in them. I start to see that her anger hasn’t been a calculated emotion. She didn’t purposely direct her anger towards me just to make me suffer. She felt out of control. She was sick of being hurt, sick of feeling victimized.

  “Of all people, you can talk to me about that, Elaine. I wish I had known sooner that you weren’t just upset with me. You’re still in fight mode after trying to get your Dad out. You’re just like I was after I retaliated against my stepfather. Days later I was still in fight mode, years later when it no longer served a purpose. You can’t let yourself slip into bitterness. Don’t be like I was. I wasted a lot of time, said stupid and hurtful things, and created so many regrets.”

  “But you haven’t had any outbursts lately,” Elaine quietly adds. I nod. She’s right. Lately I haven’t done any major screaming or destruction of innocent objects. “Joey, what do I do to deal with it?” She settles her hand on the middle of her chest as if checking the pulse of her dormant temper. “What finally helped you with your anger?” The answer to her question came to my mind immediately.

  “You.”

  A crack of violent thunder rumbles at the windows of the trailer after the word left my mouth. Elaine jumps in her seat. Both of us briefly turn our attention to the ominous storm clouds. I’ll take that thundering as a sign. Maybe professing my love for her right now is a bad idea. “When I know I have you to talk to, someone who understands me and can make me laugh, I don’t feel like life is completely unfair.” I said what needed to be said, not what I wanted to say.

  “That’s how I want to feel again,” Elaine confesses with a small smile. “I was really happy. It was the first time in years that I didn’t worry about anything. I just hung out with you a lot and every day felt like a little adventure.”

  My heart smiles at that. I blush, to my embarrassment.

  “Then when I saw Daddy in the hospital, all the anxiety and frustration came twisting out of me. I think what hurt the most was that I ran to you. It bruised my pride to need your support so much and then be rejected. I wanted you to make it all better like you usually do.” She smiles, bashful but not uncomfortable.

  I make it all better for her? Her words ignite fireworks in my head. My breathing quickens because oxygen never tasted so sweet. I can’t even respond because of the lump of joy in my throat. The sound of the raindrops violently slapping into the window panes and the cracking of lighting outside can’t touch my happiness. That’s exactly how she makes me feel. She makes it all better. Her eyes, which hold all the magic in my world, follow me as a I stand up from my chair, walk to her side of the table and kneel beside her.

  “What are you doing, silly?” she smiles.

  “It’s time I be honest and tell you I hate your glasses.”

  “Huh? I thought you said I didn’t look stupid wearing them.”

&nbs
p; “You don’t, Sugarbutt. I’d like to see more of your face, is all.”

  “Please, don’t make that my nickname!” she squeals as I remove her glasses from her face and set them on the table. Next I try to take her hair down and she smacks my hand away and laughs. “Never touch a black woman’s hair. Unless, of course, you pass the probationary period of ten years of marriage, then you can touch.”

  “You let me run my fingers through it last time,” I point out and begin reaching for her hair again. She intercepts my hand and pins my arm down across her thighs.

  “It was your very lucky day, buddy. I say it’s my turn to mess with your hair. Fair is fair.”

  I shrug. “Fair is fair.” As if my hair or I would bite her, she gently pets at one curl. Then she pulls on one to watch it snap back. Strangely, that entertains her. Bolder, her fingers move deeper into my mess of curly hair. She has all ten fingers in there at some point. It feels heavenly. My eyes fall closed. Next I feel her thumbs slide across both my eyebrows. What on earth is she doing? I chuckle but keep my eyes closed.

  “Your eyebrows are a different shade than your hair. They’re darker. But your eyelashes are really fair.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say without thought.

  “What are you apologizing for?” she playfully scolds me. She cups my face in her hands. I open my eyes. She quickly plants a warm kiss on my cheek. “Can you tell now?” Her full lips part into a grin. “We’re friends again.”

  I shake my head. “I want to be, for you, but I can’t.” My heart starts drumming hard like a battering ram in my chest. “Elaine, I can’t just be your friend anymore. I love you so much more than that. I have to be with you.”

  Her warm palms slip away from my jaw line. If it were possible, the perfect coffee color would have drained from her face. She grasps her mouth with her hand and exhales a sigh of despair as her body leans into the back of the chair. All the while she’s searching my eyes.

  “Joey, I’ve really only known you, the real you, for a few weeks now,” she finally speaks, “So, you’ve only known me, the real me, for a few weeks. How do you know that you love me? How could you possibly mean that?”

  “It’s not something that I know. It’s something that I feel. I know you feel it too. Am I lying?”

  Elaine’s gaze drifts down to her lap.

  I gently raise her chin with my pointer finger. “Look at me. Am I lying about that?”

  “No you’re not. I admit that I feel things for you sometimes. I do love you. You’re my best friend. I just don’t think we should be more than that. It doesn’t feel right.”

  “Why? What can I change to make you happy?”

  “You prop me up on a pedestal, Joey. Raul never did that to me. I am who I am and he accepted that and he didn’t think I was some Supergirl.”

  The mention of Raul irritates me. “Isn’t that what a guy who loves you is supposed to think? That you’re amazing? That you’re the most beautiful and most precious thing in his life?”

  Elaine’s body shivers at my words. She wraps her arms around herself. Is she disgusted? She has a pained expression on her face that sends daggers into my chest. My voice grows louder, more passionate. “You got used to the way Raul treated you. He kept you where he wanted you to be: Below him. He didn’t introduce you to his friends, he didn’t introduce you to his family, he didn’t respect you and take you into every single part of his life, but I do.”

  She nods at first. “You have, and it’s made me open up and see that I do have something good to offer other people. That made me very happy. I couldn’t have done it without you,” she smiles sadly. “Joey, listen to me. You haven’t met all the girls you need to meet to make your decision. You haven’t left Cadence enough to realize all your options. How can you say that yet? That I’m the one?”

  “For years my heart’s been pointing me in your direction, no matter how hard I’ve fought it. I couldn’t be more sure about who I want to be with.”

  “You have your soccer team, all your friends, the folks in the Tumbleweeds, and you want me, too? Another burden? Another project? “

  “What are you talking about?” I say, taken aback. “You were never a project. If you were a burden to me, I wouldn’t have held on to you so tightly for so long.”

  “Your anger. It”

  “It’s getting better, I swear.”

  “Your anger all these years has been my fault. It won’t be long before I stir it up again. I frustrate you. Even your mother says she wanted you to stay away from me. I bring out the worst in you.”

  Her eyes are filled to the brim with glistening tears, but they never fall. I knew she would be hesitant to be with me because of my anger. I never ever thought she blamed herself for it. I want to bury my face in her stomach and cry. Staring into her eyes and shaking my head at her words is all I can manage to do. Then her explanation for turning me down becomes even more twisted and untrue.

  “I can’t help but think that you spent so much time wanting me that you didn’t figure out what you want to do with your life, what career, what dreams you want to fulfill outside of being with me.”

  “No, that has nothing to do with, with”

  “You’re wishing for a fairytale. Things won’t magically be better if we start dating.”

  “Yes, they will.”

  She shakes her head like I’m missing the point. Her leg is bouncing. It’s a nervous twitch that she has. I place my hand on her knee. Her movement slows, but it doesn’t stop. “Do I scare you? Is that it?” There is a pause, then a slow, reluctant nod. I reach out and trace the side of her face with the back of my hand. She presses her cheek further against it. I pass my thumb along her soft, swollen lips. Her mouth parts against my finger. She’s not afraid of me touching her. What is she afraid of? “Give me permission to show you how it will be if we’re together. I’d be the best boyfriend ever,” I force myself to chuckle. “Please. I just need one chance. One day.”

  As she clutches her stomach with shaking hands and chews on her bottom lip, her final response is to shake her head ‘no’.

  My hand grips at her knee. She won’t give me a chance? I’m not even worth a try? I bolt up from kneeling at her feet, begging at her feet. Numb, I stare down at her and though my throat is constricting I utter, “I don’t want to see you anymore and I don’t want to hear your voice anymore…I don’t want to love you anymore. You are killing me.”

  The tears that had been collecting in Elaine’s eyes suddenly cascade down her face like they’re the watery dot at the end of my sentence. She quickly swipes the tears away and her mouth hangs open in shock and confusion. I can’t even look at her. I feel like I’ll hurt her, like I might yank her out of her seat and take her for myself like I’m King Kong, so I walk away.

  ******

  I wanted to grab his hand and scream “No!” but I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. I hadn’t expected that when I broke his heart I would also break mine.

  I get up from the small dining table and walk out the front door. I have no jacket, hat, poncho or umbrella to shield me from the whipping rain that meets me once I open it. My entire body is burning with shame and misery and longing. Once I step out into it, I savor how the icy rain feels against my skin. I just keep walking through the cold rain, fighting against the wind. Before I know it I’m halfway home, on the other side of the trailer park, and in the middle of this monster of a storm. My boots are heavy with water, my clothes stick to my skin. My warm breath is a puff of fog. My hair is matted to my scalp and my tears mix with the rain.

  Denise’s words from high school echo in my mind: You don’t have a heart! That’s not true. Just because I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve, doesn’t mean I don’t have one. If I don’t have a heart, what is this inside my chest ripping apart? “Make me numb,” I plead the rain, but the rain can’t wash away what’s inside of me.

  ******

  I stand inside my room not knowing what to do with myself or if I’ll
slip into madness or rage. I grasp some handfuls of my hair and try to forget the sensation of Elaine’s fingers moving through it. I imagine striking a match to my house so that I won’t be reminded of all the moments we shared in its rooms. My heart feels like it’s in a bear trap, but…I can’t help wondering if Elaine is okay right now. I told her she was killing me. It’s not her fault that I love her. I shouldn’t have made her feel guilty about that. Shit, Joey! Have a backbone. But I don’t have a backbone when it comes to her.

  I run out of my bedroom to apologize. She’s already gone. I notice her glasses sitting on the table. I glance at the window and see the dark outline of her truck outside. I could catch her before she leaves. I grab the glasses and run full speed out into the rain. I run to the passenger side of her truck. Once I’m inches in front of the window I realize the truck is empty. In disbelief, I try the door and it opens. I stick my head in. The truck is empty. I shut the door and stand stupidly in the rain. She’s still in the house?