by Delia Steele
“Hey, man. Whatcha doin’ here this time of night?” I turn to see my best friend coming from the back with a chubby brown bundle wrapped in a towel. RJ is the cutest kid, and he is so happy. He is currently pulling on Rome’s nose, giggling as Rome dries him off from, I assume, a bath.
“I need to talk.” I don’t say much else. The stress written all over my face says it all.
“No worries. Everyone here is good. Give Thax about ten minutes to get back, and I can have him watch RJ while we talk.”
“Where is he?” I ask. “That boy sure keeps the roads warm.” I smile at Rome’s attempt to run a comb through the mass of hair on RJ’s head. It’s pointless. That kid has as much hair as I do.
“He ran that girl home. I wish he would find someone nice to mess with. This chick is selfish, and it ain’t going to end well. Either he gets mad at Rory or Rory gets mad at her. Every time we try to include her, it’s a mess. He tries to make sure she is gone before his sister comes in. One day, I just know she will end up knocking that smart mouth little bitch out. Seriously, Rory can’t stand to hear her name.” I smile because, to know Rory, she is amazing, sweet, kind, and caring. But to know Rory, you know she can be as mean as a yard dog. When it comes to her family, she will kick ass and take names later. She doesn’t play, and that crazy, red headed stepchild behavior comes out full force when threatened.
After packing up Saige’s backpack for the next day and helping Denver do the same, we both tackle the glitter, paste, and paper pieces on the floor. Rio lays his trifold board flat to dry, and as we are heading towards the back to make sure everyone is down, I hear the door open, followed by female laughter. It’s in that moment that I remember why I came over. Helping Rome with his mini army of munchkins distracted me from my stress. Nevertheless, Rory’s laughter is enough to set my soul aflame again. “We have to talk, dude; I can’t wait any longer.” I say to Rome as I turn and walk outside to be alone, waving at Rory and Thax as I pass. Thax timed that to perfection. Must be an acquired talent for him. I see Rome hug Rory and kiss her on his way to me. It hurts to want something so bad that your chest aches and your breath catches at the thought of never getting it. I’ve never been envious of them or their life until right now.
“OK, man, spill. I can sit here all night if you need me to. My family’s out, and the wife’s laughing with her brother, so I am safe!” he says as he sits across from me, pulling out the dominoes. I hear the door slide open, and Rory walks out, still in her diner uniform. It’s nicer than the one she used to wear. Even as the manager, she still gets her hands dirty helping out.
“Hi, Clay. I figured you guys could use some sweet tea.” She sets the glasses down and drops a light kiss atop my head before walking back inside. I see the sadness in her eyes as she slides the door shut, eyeing us. She is observant; she knows something’s going on.
“I won’t waste any time. I’m so sick of playing games and brushing it off,” I say, fiddling with the game pieces. “Not this game. Sorry.” I look up at Rome in an attempt to apologize for sounding so rude.
“Man, you have been nothing but good to me and my family since the day I met you. Say what you need to. I’m here for you. It’s about damn time you sought out someone instead of sitting in that house alone all the time. It’s kind of creepy.” He laughs at me, and it actually makes me smile.
“It’s Mando, man. She’s flopping around in the deep end of the shit pool. I know . . . I know, but I mean more than normal. Something is going on. I haven’t seen her or spoken to her since she stormed out of here the other night. She told me to leave her alone. For good. I’ve tried calling and texting. Hell, I even called Gran. I had to know she was OK. I’m so desperate I find myself praying nonstop. I would sell my soul to save her the pain and hurt she is obviously enduring. That girl holds my heart in the palm of her hand, and she is crushing it, along with all our plans. Our whole life has been planned for so long, but she just won’t commit.” I look at Rome to make sure I still have his attention, making sure I haven’t lost him along the way. “I mean, she’s built her wall so high she doesn’t even realize she is breaking her own heart by staying behind that barrier. She is keeping me out. I don’t know…maybe I am pushing her too hard.” I rub my hands down my face to mask the tears trying to escape.
“Clay, you have given her five years to figure it out. You bend over backwards to comply with her every desire. You can’t blame yourself for the wild hair she’s got up her ass right now.”
“That’s just it, Rome—I think she feels like maybe she doesn’t believe she has a choice. I can understand her feeling lost, or confused even. But what price is she willing to pay to figure it out? I mean, does she even see she is losing us…losing me? She is my disease. She has infected my entire life, and I don’t want to live it any other way. There isn’t a cure for her, and I don’t want one. I will die without her. I have given her the best of me, and she is telling me right now that it’s not good enough. I sit here, crying like a baby, pouring my heart out to you, and where is she? I’ll tell you where. She’s out with some joker named Charlie. Gran says it isn’t serious, but we all know Mando hates serious anyway. What if she sleeps with him? What if he is eat up with a STD? She may be being careless, and it could kill her. I won’t sit here and lose her, and I sure as hell won’t share her. I need answers.” I look up to see Rome motioning to Rory through the door, and a few seconds later she joins us, hugging me close. It causes me to cry harder, but I can’t help it. My heart is twisted and in need of comfort right now.
“The name ‘Charlie’ sound familiar to you?” he asks, looking at her. She ponders it a moment, and her face screws up hard. “Charlie Wilson, maybe? He lived at the park with us back in the day. He messed with that skag, Crystal, a lot, and I think he goes by Chico or something now. He is trash, but he’s the only Charlie I know from Monroe Falls. Why?” Rome’s face gets a menacing look.
“I hate those fuckers. I never knew him as Charlie, though,” he says, more to Rory than to me.
“I only know his name is Charlie because Mando told me they used to be best friends.” She looks at me and asks, “Why, Clay?” I wipe my nose on my shirt before I can continue.
“Because, apparently, Mando has chosen the likes of him over me.” I feel numb right now. Completely invalid.
“OH, NO! Clay, you have to get her! Chico is bad news. He works for some big, badass dealer. She isn’t safe with him. He sells some heavy drugs like coke and meth. If he screws up, she could pay for it if she’s in his company. We gotta go get her. Give me a minute to get ready, Clay, and we will bring her home.” I grab Rory as she turns to go.
“I can do it. If I need you, I’ll call. You guys have a family, and you can’t just jump up and leave on a whim. I don’t expect you to.” She looks at me and then back at Rome. Something passes between them.
“Clay, if Mando is in danger—and I believe she could be—I will leave here and go to her. She is as much a part this family as anyone in this house. She is a part of me, Clay. She is my best friend—my sister even—and if she needs me, I’ll go. Don’t you ever question my love for her.” I look at Rome. I know he’s had issues with Mando, so I doubt he feels the same.
“I agree, man,” he says, surprising me. “She’s family. However, Rory, understand that Mando needs Clay the way I need you. Let him fix them before you run in. She’s still brittle, and for whatever reason, it has something to do with you.” I look back at Rory and see her tearing up, so I try to reassure her.
“I will bring her home, and if I can’t do it alone, I promise to call you.” I hug them both and head home to figure out some type of strategy.
I couldn’t ask for better people. They are the type you want to surround yourself with. Truthful, caring, loyal. Though they have their issues, they keep it private and fix it. They’ve never been the type to air their dirty laundry for the world to see, and I can respect that. Right now, I have my own dirty laundry piling up. I’ve got
to find a way to clean up this mess and get my life back. Get my love back.
Chapter Six
Rolling around and grunting, I refuse to get up. I don’t do much anymore besides sleep and drink. “What day is it?” I ask Gran when I see her standing in my doorway. She doesn’t answer; she just stands and looks at me with heavy eyes. “Gran!” I growl in frustration and pull the blanket higher over my head.
“Rosaria needs you at the diner today.” I haven’t been to work in forever and couldn’t care less about going. However, Gran is being distant, and I do wonder what her deal is. She has never been so icy towards me, and I’m wondering if it’s disappointment in my recent actions or the lack thereof. I know I am a perpetual disappointment to others, but I don’t want to be to Gran. I get up and dress in the first thing I see—no clue if it’s clean and not caring either way—and head to the bathroom.
After brushing my hair and teeth, I return to my room to grab my purse. Hating the aftertaste of the toothpaste, I grab the bottle of vodka by my bed and cram my toothbrush in it. I scrub vigorously back and forth and then smack my lips together. Much better. The vodka rejuvenates like water after running a marathon. It quenches my thirst. I head to the living room. “OK, Gran, I’ll be back. I’m headed to see what Mom needs.” I slide on my overly large shades and stumble out the door.
Yanking the car door open and climbing in, I toss my huge bag onto the passenger seat and press my forehead to the steering wheel. I feel like shit. My body aches, my mouth is dry, my head is pounding, and my clothes are so baggy I’m constantly pulling on them. These stupid ass suits. It pisses me off, to be honest. I am sick of crying, and that’s exactly what I am sitting here doing…once again. Anger fills me to the brim, and I slam my hands against the wheel. I pull down the visor and flip open the mirror. Jerking the shades off my face, I stare at myself…my makeup stained, bloodshot eyes.
“I HATE YOU!” I scream at my reflection. The anger in me has me shaking. “I hate everything you cause me, everything you do to me.” The anger needs to release me; it needs to let me go. In a moment of lost control, I lean over and bite the steering wheel hard. When I sit back up, I see Gran standing on her porch watching me, head tilted and tears in her eyes. Shoving the shades back on to hide my shame, I grind my teeth and shift the car into Reverse. I fucking hate myself and my life, but never Gran. She is amazing. However, with the way I feel today, she could go fuck herself with a rubber canoe, and it’d be fine by me. Fucking stupid life, stupid world, and stupid people. Everything is just so fucking stupid.
Pulling in at the diner, I notice the parking lot is full and dad’s truck is gone. That joke of a man isn’t even helping her. I run through the door, knowing she will be in freak out mode. She can’t deal with Americans the way Dad can. I have tried to teach her more English, but she just can’t fully grasp it. She doesn’t understand it. She gets overwhelmed and shuts down.
“Estoy aquí mamá, veo. ¿Dónde me necesita?” I ask her as I round the corner. She points at the plates piled on the open window as she runs past me with root beer floats to deliver. Grabbing a few plates and the corresponding tickets, I cut out in a frenzy. I rarely do the waiting part, but I know everything about this place. I helped decorate it and grew up playing here while my mom worked. So I’m easily able to jump in where I’m needed and do what’s requested of me. I regret my lack of hygiene as I hand out plates, but it’s too late to fix it now.
Thirty minutes later, the rush has subsided, and I can breathe. I reach towards my mom, who is wiping sweat from her brow. “We need to talk, Mama,” I say as I head towards her office. I hear her tell the girl up front she will return soon. The girl replies with “Huh?” about three times before I decide to walk back to the counter.
“Listen here, Angie. Get with the fucking program. I need to talk to my mother, so you’re going to actually earn your wages today. Go take a fucking order and fill a fucking cup, you little drugged-out whore with daddy issues.” I walk away. What can she say? She knows it’s true. I felt sorry for her when I saw her in my dad’s office the other night, but now I’m past that. She chooses to stay in that life, so she deserves what she gets. If you want things to change, then fix them. Don’t just sit back and cry about it. No one has time for that shit. Not me, not anyone.
We close the door to the office and sit down on the boxes piled around. It’s not a great space, but no one comes in here except me to do the books and cut checks. “Mama, I miss you, but I can’t come home. I have something going on, and I don’t like how it makes me feel. I . . . I act like Balt, and I don’t want to hurt you with it.” I look down at my feet in shame. My mama is a good woman, weak but good. She deserves a daughter worth bragging about. I heard her going on repeatedly about her daughter’s accomplishments once, and I got excited until she said Rory’s name. It may have been the first time I ever felt hatred towards Rory. Mama loves her, and with good reason. Rory was a dream to us. She was sweet and hardworking and released Mama from the stress of the diner. She is going above and beyond in Atlanta, and she returns the love she gets tenfold. “I just don’t-” I am cut off as the door flies open, and my father stalks in angrily. My mama turns from a concerned parent to a fearing child right before my eyes. I hate seeing that reaction. She shouldn’t fear his dishonorable ass.
“There are customers waiting, and you left that illiterate fool to run things? Are you trying to lose this place, Rosaria?” His question demands an answer.
“You know what? Fuck you, Balt! She was trying to be a parent, which is something you don’t know jack shit about.” I turn to my mother. “I love you, Mama, but he is ruining you. AND YOU LET HIM! I can’t watch this shitfest anymore. I’m out.” I stand and attempt to shove past Balt. I have to stop, though, because he is just standing in the doorway, looking down on me. “You can look down at me, but my opinion won’t change. I hate what you make her be, I hate what you do to people around you, I hate who you are, and most of all, I hate who I am because of your actions.” I try again to push past him, but he grabs my wrist.
“I told you if this kept up you would lose it all. I am done with you. Don’t come back to our house, and don’t ever ask me for anything, little girl. You’re a filthy little piece of trash, just like your mother.” He doesn’t scare me like he thinks he does. Not anymore. I will never cower to him again.
“You lay one hand on me, and you will be sorry. I’ll call the cops, FBI, ATF, who the fuck ever. You name ‘em, and I will fucking call ‘em. I don’t want your money, time, or anything else you have to offer. You obviously haven’t noticed that I don’t even live with you anymore. Too busy doing your dirty work or fucking your employee’s wife for payment, I assume. You’re a joke. They all laugh at you behind your back, as do I, motherfucker.”
I can’t believe I do it as I walk out, but I do. I spit at him. I have never had the urge to spit on someone. It’s nasty, but it felt right, so I didn’t fight it. He is the reason I feel the way I do, he is the reason I act the way I do, and he is who has created the monster I am. I have allowed him to do all these things to me, so it is ultimately my fault, but he’s played his part. I needed my mother, and he just barged in and took over like he always does. I’m over it. I can do this on my own. I don’t need anyone. If he fucks with me, I’ll get his damn green card taken away. His ass will be swimming around like fucking Nemo in the Rio. #Justkeepswimmingbitch
My thoughts run wild in my mind as I walk to my car. I wanted my mother to hold me and let me cry to her, but he is the most important thing in her life. It shouldn’t bother me. It’s always been this way. I’ve never been number one to anyone.
As I reach for the door handle, I hear my mama crying. I look up, and she stands at the back of the diner, where no one but employees can see her. She is shaking all over and holding her rosary between her fingers, rubbing the beads as she speaks quietly. I assume she is praying for my salvation. She thinks I’m the one who’s lost. She should be praying for her own.
I need her, but she is lost to me. As much as I love my mother, I can’t save her from the spell he has over her, no more than she can break the spell the Devil weaves around me. The difference is: I can see what he’s done to me. She has no clue how lost she is. Whatev’s. This shit they call life is a ball-busting joke. I’m over this caring bullshit. It’s overrated.
I get in my car and look once more at my mother. It could be the last time I ever see her. It’s sad, but it’s true. She chooses this life, so she has to live it, but not me. She looks up to see me watching her and holds up those beads towards the sky in my direction, pleading with her eyes. All I can do is shake my head no. I don’t need her spitting her religion at me today. This isn’t about religion; this is about the truth. And truth is: God hasn’t lost her; she’s lost herself. And she isn’t going to find herself thumbing those beads. She’ll only find herself by following her heart rather than her fears. But that’ll never happen. Balt won’t allow it because finding herself would mean finding God, and finding God would give her peace. In their world, Balt is God, and there is no peace, and I won’t sit back and be ruled by him anymore.
I put the car in Drive and floor it as fast as I can. I have to get away from them. I have to get away from the phony image they want the world to see. To the naked eye, they are an amazing, perfect family, but I know the truth. The ugly, sinful, damning truth.
I find myself dressing without thought of a place to go. I just know I want to relieve this stress. I want to live in my liquored-up bubble of ignorance for a night. I dig through clothes, shoes, and hairpins, and I can’t decide what I want. Everything is so different, so me now. I want me ten years ago. When I was happy and carefree. I know I have to grow up—I get that—but I shouldn’t have to compromise who I am. I have conformed to my father’s demands so much over the years that I don’t even wear the same style of clothes or shoes. I’ve lost my individuality, my identity, my pizazz. #lostmysparkle
