by Ward, H. M.
It’s really strange thinking about it, but Henry seemed like a nice guy on the outside. Meanwhile, Sean seems like he’s actively looking for a puppy to kick because it would amuse him. All this time I thought the happy-go-lucky people were the ones carrying their hearts on their sleeves, but I don’t think that’s true anymore. It’s the people with that ferocious I’ll-eat-you-alive look—the folks that scare the bejesus out of old ladies—those are the people with their heart on their sleeves. The barbs in their vacant stares aren’t animosity or hatred, but pain and brokenness. At some point it becomes impossible to hide how many pieces they’ve shattered into and you get this charred outer shell that’s brittle as hell, and impossible to fix.
When I look at Sean, that’s what I see. What looks like a bitter, arrogant man is actually just another guy trying to hold it together. Dad used to say that when things got rough, having Mom around was like having a brace. Even if they both tipped to the side, if they leaned toward each other, they wouldn’t fall down. Being alone means falling flat on my face.
Sean must sense someone is looking at him, because his gaze lifts and searches the parking lot, his face slowly scanning the people.
“Oh shit!” I squeal and slink down at the same time Mel smashes my head into the dashboard. I yelp, but she doesn’t take her hand off the back of my neck. Instead, she sits there, leaning against her door, and looks behind us, like she’s waiting for someone to come out of the store.
“And he’s still looking…” she says over her shoulder. When her hand releases the back of my neck, I can breathe a little better, but I don’t sit up. “What the hell is he doing out here, anyway?”
“Something with his brother, Peter.”
“Pete Ferro is here too? Shit, add one more and it could be a Ferro family reunion. I bet they’d all kill each other before we got to dessert.” Mel leans her head against her hand after propping her elbow up on the door. “He don’t know your license plate number, right?”
“That was so grammatically disgusting. Why do you talk like you took a brick to the head?”
Her foot gently kicks me, originally aimed for my side, but I turned my head and the tip of her sneaker goes into my mouth. Mel yanks her foot back as I spit out gravel, gum, and other parking lot nastiness. “Oh, that was foul. I didn’t mean to make you eat shoe. Sorry about that.”
I’m spitting and resisting the urge to strangle her. “The laughter kind of negates the apology there, Mel.”
“Well, you asked for it. All making fun of my intellectuality. I’m a smart girl. I can handle myself.”
“So, why do you flip between talking like an intellectual and a bag lady?”
“You don’t understand nothin’. I’m me and I let you see both sides of my life—the good and the bad. They mix together and fall out of my mouth in ubiquitous sentences that I got no control over. You think this mind can be reproduced? Hell no, and it won’t be tamed either, so keep your comments on my urban vernacular to yourself, thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome very much. Not that you make sense or anything, but is he gone? I didn’t hear the bike start up and my head hurts from getting slammed into the dashboard. Thanks for that too, by the way.”
“Psh, whatever.” Mel waves me off. “I’m helping you develop some character. All white girls need a little color here and there.”
“Not in the form of bruises. Come on, where is he, Mel?”
She smirks. “Oh, he’s gone.” Chuckling to herself, Mel continues, “He drove off a few minutes ago and went that way.”
I sit up and give her a girlie slap, the kind where hands are a blur of motion and it’s more annoying than anything. “You suck! We’re going to lose him.”
We pull out of the parking lot and follow Sean’s bike, leaving several cars between us. “Damn we’re conspicuous. The only way we’d be more noticeable was if your horn played La Cucaracha. It doesn’t, does it?”
“No.” I drop back further and hide behind a truck. Mel tells me where he turned and once we’re on side streets, it’s much harder to hide. “Where the hell is he going?”
“Beats me if I know.” But her voice is tight like she does know and it isn’t good. We’re in the middle of suburbia, complete with lawns, houses, and families.
“What do you think he’s doing over here?”
Mel doesn’t answer this time. Instead, she says, “Pull over and let’s find out. He stopped a few houses down.”
I slip over to the side of the road and park next to a minivan. I can’t see much, so I lean over to Mel’s side of the car. Mel is tense and it takes me a second to see why. After Sean parks his bike, he walks over to a woman standing on the front lawn of a cute house. A work crew is putting in a white picket fence, beautiful flower-filled gardens, and painting the little home so it looks like new.
The woman matches Sean’s height with inky black hair that’s tied into a neat chignon at the base of her neck. The dress she’s wearing fits her perfectly. The longer I sit and stare, the more I wish I had no eyes. The two of them seem comfortable together, like there’s a relationship there. This can’t be what it looks like. I slip back into my seat and glance at Mel. “Well, what’s he doing?”
The smug smile that’s usually lining Mel’s lips isn’t there. A crease furrows her brow as she stares down the street at the couple and the house. “It could be anything, Avery.”
“Yeah, but what’s your gut impression?” Mel’s quiet for a moment and that’s all the answer I need. “Yeah, mine too.” I manage to say before swallowing the lump in my throat.
I lean back over to get another look, hoping that it’s not what it looks like. Because, to me, it looks like that is Sean’s house and this woman is close to him, like in a relationship kind of close. I see it in the way they stand shoulder to shoulder, their bodies turned toward one another. She’s not a business associate. His body language is too personal, too intimate for that.
I swallow hard, looking at the white picket fence. That’s what I wanted, but it appears that he already has that with someone else. I wonder if the whole family thing was an excuse to take off, to come back here to this woman. But then what the hell was Peter doing? Why’d he come say those things to me? Sean’s actually smiling as he leans in close to her ear, closing the space between them. His hand slips around her waist and they stay like that, head to head, talking. Maybe that’s not an intimate pose for some people, but it’s a step past sex for Sean Ferro. No one is close to him like that. My heart is crumbling in my chest. I wait for them to separate, but they don’t.
Mel and I watch them for way too long. The woman touches his hand, arms, and shoulders, pointing and smiling at the house and the yard. Sean doesn’t shirk her off like he does with other people. Instead his hand finds the wrist of her hand, and he helps her through the messy yard.
I can’t watch any more.
33
Without a word, I start the car. The engine turns over on the first try. I sit there for a second. Running is for losers. I could get out of the car and stomp down the street like a jaded lover or I could leave and pretend that I never saw any of this—but I did. My stomach is so sour that it feels like I’m going to wretch.
Mel’s voice is soft, compassionate. “You want me to walk down there and take his balls off for you, honey?”
I laugh a little and shake my head. “I thought he loved me. How is he making the life I wanted with someone else? He said no to me and yes to her? I don’t understand.”
“Oh, Avery…” Mel is awkward for a second, like she’s thinking about hugging me, but then kicks the door open. “Fuck this. He needs his face rearranged.” Before I can stop her, Mel is walking way too fast down the sidewalk.
My eyes go wide and I freeze in place. Before I think, I jump out of the car and race after her. We’re in front of a beautiful colonial, two story, home with huge grass plants in the front flowerbeds. As soon as I catch up to Mel, I launch myself at her and we fall into
the plants.
“Don’t,” I beg her, voice shaking as I roll off of her and onto my back.
“Avery,” she pushes herself into a sitting position. Blades of grass are stuck in her hair. “He’s a douchebag. Telling him so will make—”
“Will make me feel worse. You can’t go over there. He has a life with someone else.”
“No, I don’t.” Sean’s voice booms behind me. When I look up, he’s standing there with the woman two steps behind him, looking irritated beyond belief. Sean is wearing his dark jeans and a tight fitting sweater that makes me want to run my hands over his toned chest. A dusting of stubble lines his cheeks and that dark hair is messy, like he just had sex. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you.” Mel and I stand and brush ourselves off.
“Did you change your mind?” he asks, and, for a second, Sean looks hopeful.
My eyes glance between him and Mel, and then back to Sean. “Nooo.” What? Why does he think that? Confused, I ask, “I thought you missed me?”
Sean looks at the woman standing behind him. “Please, excuse us for a moment.” Then he looks at Mel and adds, “Don’t rob her while my back is turned.”
“Fuck you, Ferro.” Mel is tense, ready to fight.
Sean ignores Mel and takes me by my shoulders, trying to pull me away from the group, but I dig my heels in. I’m so confused and mad. How could he do those things with me last night and be like this today? It makes me feel used, so I second-guess myself. The thing is, I’m totally sick of doubting everything I do and I won’t be handled with kid gloves this time. Screw it.
I muster up a civil tone and manage, “No, say whatever you have to say right here, right now. I’m not doing this with you. You can’t say you miss me at night and blow me off during the day.”
“Avery, I admit that I’m pleased to see you—a little surprised—but glad all the same. However, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He slips his hands into his pockets as a breeze rustles through his hair.
Folding my arms across my chest, I feel the anger about to burst out of my mouth like a geyser. “Of course not. Of course you’d do this. So who is she?” I flip my hand toward the woman watching me like I’m crazy. I probably look insane. I tackled Mel into a plant before Sean walked over. I’m wearing jeans and a ratty sweater with pieces of grass stuck in my hair.
The corners of Sean’s lips twitch, as if he wants to smile. “Are you jealous, Miss Smith?”
“Don’t call me that, and don’t change the subject. Who is she?”
The woman steps forward with a wrinkle at the dead center of her eyebrows. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I’m Mr. Ferro’s assistant for the Granz Project.”
“For what now?” Mel barks, folding her arms over her chest. Seriously, Mel and I look like vagrants. All we need is an old shopping cart and a bottle of booze.
“This house. Mr. Ferro is restoring this old home and I’m the person in charge.” Her big brown eyes blink at me and then Mel. When no one says anything, she adds, “I’m his employee.” A nervous smile flitters across her mouth and then disappears.
Sean continues to stare at me while his business buddy speaks.
Mel clarifies, “So there’s no nothing going on between the two of you? You’re not his wife, hidden in the suburbs or something?”
The woman’s eyes go wide and she takes a step back as her hand covers her heart. “Oh God, no!”
“Yeah, but you seem kinda cozy—”
The woman looks mortified. “I’m a family friend. Sean and I were children together. He gave me this job and that’s it. I’m not his wife! I don’t even like him.” She glances at Sean. “Well, not like that. It’d be like dating my brother.” She makes a face and laughs. “Sorry, but that’s gross.” She pats Sean’s shoulder and walks back to the construction in front of the little house.
Sean watches me the entire time, never looking away. Those blue eyes pin me in place, stealing my breath away. Mel slaps me in the back. “Well, then…”
“Yeah…” I say, and rub my hand over the back of my neck, suddenly feeling the need to look at my feet. “So, Granz—isn’t that your brother’s name?” He nods. “So, you’re building him a house?”
“Restoring a house. It’s a gift. Did you seriously think that I turned you down because I already had the white picket fence with the wife stashed somewhere?”
Oh God, I can’t even look at him. It sounds really bad. He takes my chin in his hand and tips it up. Our gazes lock and my brains fly away. A few stray thoughts bang against my skull like drunk bats. “It seemed reasonable. Nothing else made sense.”
He smiles sadly at me. “I told you the truth. I’m not a marrying man. There’s too much—” he stops talking and looks over at Mel, who is leaning towards us, not wanting to miss a thing. “Do you mind?”
She puts her hands behind her back and shakes her head. “No, not at all. Go on.”
“Ah, Mel…” I ask and smile at her, hoping she’ll take a hint and go for a walk.
Mel rolls those amber eyes and then turns on her heel. She chases after the chick working for Sean and asks to see the house. Mel looks over her shoulder at me and points to the front door, telling me that she’s going inside. I nod and wave at her.
Turning back to Sean, I don’t know what to say. “I’ve been trying to get on with things and act like you don’t matter, but you do. The thing is, I want a relationship with you and there seems to be no way to have one.”
Sean leans to the side and drops his helmet to the ground before stepping toward me. His lips are parted like there are things he wants to say, but doesn’t know how. The haunted expression that I’ve seen on his face so many times is lost for the moment. There’s no past and no future. All we have is right now and we both know it. We’re toe to toe when Sean lifts his hands and brushes his fingers against my cheek. I lean into his palm and hold it to the side of my face as his other hand slips back into my hair. “I know. I’ve been thinking about you a lot, too.”
I smile sadly. “Tell me why. I mean, you mentioned it before, but I felt like you didn’t really tell me why you didn’t want to get married.”
“Avery, don’t you see what’s standing in front of you? You deserve so much more than I could possibly give you—”
“That’s not a reason.” I hold onto his hand, but pull it away from my cheek. Keeping his hand in mine, I look at our fingers. They intertwine perfectly. There’s no awkward hand holding, where you don’t know whose fingers go where, and he doesn’t have cactus hands that are covered in calluses. He’s perfect for me. He knows it, I feel like he knows it, but he’s holding back. I smile grimly and look up at him. “After last night, I thought we had a shot. I mean, I really thought you might say yes, but I guess I was wrong.”
“I don’t follow.”
I pull the ring from my pocket and place it in his palm. “I bought this for you. I was going to propose.”
34
My voice catches in the back of my throat and I take a deep breath to muffle the sound. Then I smile too brightly and continue to talk, like it’s for the best even though I’d rather be shot in the head. “Some things aren’t meant to be, I guess. Maybe we’re too alike,” I shrug and talk to his feet. “I mean, we’re both so fucked up that it’s amazing we haven’t been committed. Getting married would probably just make life harder for both of us. It’s not like it’d fix anything, and just because you love someone—well, it doesn’t mean anything. Love isn’t enough, is it?” I glance up at him and see Sean shake his head.
He looks down at the ring in his palm and turns it over, examining the carved band and the stone. “You picked this out for me?” I nod, like a despondent teenager. If I throw in a ‘whatever,’ I’d nail it. He lets out a slow rush of air and tilts his head to the side, looking back at me. “Why the pattern and stone? It’s an interesting choice for a wedding band.”
Tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, I take it
back from him and run my finger over the pattern. “It’s woven together, string by string, just like life. Sometimes it seems like those little threads snap and we’re left hanging. Marriage weaves them together, so even if one string breaks, there are others to hold us up.”
“And the stone?”
“Blood binds, but so does pain. I don’t know. We’ve both been through so much that we’ve bled our hearts out and have nothing to show for it. Maybe that sounds morbid, but that stone looks like a drop of blood. It reminds me of everything we’ve been through and that we’re still standing.”
I smile at him shyly and pinch the ring between my thumb and index finger. I hold it up to the sunlight and watch the stone turn bright red. “I was going to ask you to share my life.” I take a deep breath and look over at him. Sean’s eyes are on the ring, sparkling in the sunlight. His jaw is locked tight, like I said something horrible. I brush his arm with mine and smile at him. “It’s fine. I’m not going to ask you.”
“You’re not?” His eyes flick back to mine.
“No.”
“Then, why’d you show me and tell me all that?”
“So you’d know what you are missing.”
“Avery,” he says, reaching for me. But I step away.
Pocketing the ring, I glance up at him with a soft smile on my face, feeling less fragile than a moment ago. “It’s fine. Buy me when you come to town, or do what you did last night, but you have to realize that I’m going to have other clients eventually. Marty can’t buy me every weekend.”
As soon as Marty’s name comes out of my mouth, Sean looks livid. “Marty?”
“Yeah, Marty. I was with him the night before last.”
