IMPERFECT MONSTER

by Jennifer Bene

  We passed the dishes around, filling our plates with the simple barbecued chicken and sides that Nicky had brought home, and it still smelled amazing. Just as I popped the first bite into my mouth, hungry from the long day, I heard my mother clear her throat.

  “You have been sending me money, hijo.” It wasn’t an accusation, more a statement, and I nodded as I chewed.

  Swallowing hard, I shrugged a shoulder. “I didn’t want you to struggle when I could help.”

  “And you joined the police?” she asked, clarifying what I was sure she already knew.

  “I did.” With the salty sweet sauce on my tongue, I wish I had the rum we’d left outside, but I had to settle for the water in front of me.

  She nodded, poking with her fork at the beans on her plate. “Because of Hernan?”

  Pain surged behind my ribs, an actual heart ache, and I nodded again, staring down at my plate because I couldn’t face her. Not when I could so easily remember the emotional rage she’d had the last time I’d said his name.

  “Did you know that Benito died four years ago?” she asked, and the pain increased.

  “No, Mamá,” I answered, and she leaned over to grab my arm, squeezing tight.

  “He was killed in some foolish drug house. Dealing, just like your padre.” She shook her head, leaning back in her seat, and I could tell Nicky was frozen. “Just like you would have been had you continued on that road, but you did not. Gracias a Dios.”

  I flinched, sad to know that my older brother had died in such a lonely way. I had hoped he would have cleaned up his act, stuck around to keep the family going while I stepped away. Taking the brunt of my mother’s anger over Hernan’s death. To know he’d acted just like my father, and died for it, hurt on a different level.

  “Andre saved my life,” Nicky said, breaking the spell as I jerked to look at her, and my mother turned as well. “He got me out of a very bad situation when he was undercover, kept me as safe as he could.”

  “Belleza…” I groaned at the lie, but my mother raised her hand to silence me.

  “My son saved you?”

  “Yes.” Nicky smiled, looking up at me with her perfect blue eyes, the slight blush highlighting her cheeks easier since her tan had faded. “I would have died, or worse, if he had not protected me. He risked everything, his whole assignment, to keep me safe.”

  “That’s not true,” I tried to argue but both of them spoke over me.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Shh, hijo. I want to hear this!” My mother patted my arm as if I were a child interrupting adults, and I sat back in the chair grinning as Nicky leaned closer, describing me in kinder language than I deserved. Calling me her hero as if I’d never made her scream in pain. Never terrified her, or made her cry.

  I’d learned over the last year how to temper that aggression, to take her in a way that made her cry out in pleasure, even with a little pain mixed in. Still, not the right thing to be thinking of as my mother grinned broadly at Nicky, glancing at me occasionally with pride in her eyes.

  More than I could have ever hoped.

  “Did you know Andre had siblings?” my mother asked, her accent thick, but Nicky just leaned her chin on her hand as mi Mamá dug her phone out of the little purse she had. “Andre was the second oldest,” she said softly, swiping through her phone. “But this is Rosa, his younger sister. She is twenty-six now.”

  My heart stuttered seeing Rosa as a full-grown woman with a toddler on her hip. “She has a kid?”

  “Yes, his name is Michael. Almost two.” My mother was a proud grandmother as she swiped through more photos. “And here is Miguel.”

  “He’s tall,” I said softly, staring at the five o’clock shadow on my baby brother’s face, but he was clearly a man now. “That makes him twenty-five?”

  “Next week,” she answered, and of course she remembered his birthday and I didn’t. I couldn’t even send him anything, which felt worse. Touching her phone again she finally smiled even broader. “Look at Josefina! She is graduating community college. The first of us, although Miguel has been taking classes.”

  Staring at the phone I felt like she was talking about different people, like the photos were of strangers, not the kids, the teenagers, I’d left behind in that small apartment when she’d kicked me out.

  Benito was dead. Hernan was dead. But I had survived, and so had the others.

  As if my mother knew what I was thinking, she reached over to grasp my hand, squeezing as hard as she could. “We have missed you, hijo.”

  “I couldn’t put you at risk, Mamá. I wanted to reach out, I wanted to talk to you, but… this was where they needed me.” I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “And I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me again anyway.”

  “Andre…” she stood and moved to wrap her arms around me, and for a moment I felt ten years old again. Young, untainted, and innocent, with my mother making everything fade away. “I was wrong, so wrong to send you away. I knew that too late. I could not find you. Benito could not find you… and then you sent the money. Every bit I got was like a sign from God that you were okay, and I only prayed that you were somewhere safe.”

  As soon as she started crying, I stood up and hugged her, in disbelief that she’d thought about me as much as I had her. It was better than I’d ever dreamed, and I looked up to see Nicky with her hands pressed over her mouth, tears in her eyes. She had pushed me to ask for this, for the Marshals to reach out to my mother, and it had taken months of arguing — but Nicky had never backed down. Even when I had told her to drop it, sure that my mother didn’t want to see me, she had insisted.

  And now Mamá was here.

  Maybe I had finally done something good enough for God to forgive me. To let me have Nicky, to let me see my mother again… it was an answered prayer I’d never even had the balls to whisper aloud.

  “Lo siento, hijo. I am ruining dinner with tears!” She pulled back, wiping her eyes as she squeezed my hand and took her seat again, finally taking a bite. “This is good.”

  “Not homemade. I’m sorry about that, but I’m really not a great cook.” Nicky laughed, unashamed, and my mother laughed too.

  “Andre knows how to cook. Don’t you, hijo?” Grinning, she launched into talking again. “He used to stay in the kitchen and help me, it was my favorite time of day. Making dinner with my boys as their little brothers and sisters ran around.” Her expression grew softer, a little sad, and I knew she was remembering Benito and Hernan. “Those were good days.”

  “They were, Mamá.”

  My mother took a deep breath and turned toward Nicky. “Where are you parents?”

  She stopped with her fork almost to her mouth. “Oh, um, they died in a car accident. Almost six years ago, I was twenty-two.” Smiling sadly, Nicky lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug. “My mom didn’t cook either, but she always had friends over. She loved to have a full house of people enjoying themselves. It’s probably why I ended up as a bartender.”

  “I didn’t know that,” I said, surprised by the snippet of her childhood.

  “You never asked.” Smiling, she winked at me to let me know she wasn’t upset, and then she turned her full attention back to my mother. “My father was a mechanic. He could fix anything, and cars were his life. He would trade work for parts all the time, always working on a few old pieces of junk, convinced he could bring them back to life.” Nicky laughed, bright and airy. “I did not inherit those talents.”

  I felt bad for not asking more about her parents, for not bothering to get to know her better. It used to be a painful topic for both of us. “I could teach you a few things about cars. I’m no mechanic, but I can do some stuff.”

  “Sounds fun,” she answered, smiling.

  “Do you have any siblings?” My mother prodded, always the talkative one, the one too curious about others to bother with things like tact. Fortunately, Nicky didn’t seem bothered at all.

  “Just a brother. He joined the military when
we moved out here, with a little… help.”

  “Help?” Mamá asked, and I laughed as she looked at me.

  “He’d been in some trouble when he was younger, but the department helped us clear a few of those indiscretions off his record so he could enlist.”

  “And who encouraged him to do that?” Nicky prompted, eyebrows lifting.

  “I had a talk with him about the situation he’d put Nicky in with his decisions, and suggested he join the military in exchange for his record getting tidied up.” I grinned. “He needed the help, belleza.”

  “Right.” She laughed a little, popping another bite in her mouth, and my mother laughed too.

  “You two are so good together! I am so happy my Andre found such a good woman. When do you plan to give me a grandbaby?” Her question hung in the air as I choked on water and Nicky turned bright red, before we both started laughing.

  * * *

  Nicky

  A whole day with Andre’s mom had been even more of an adventure than dinner had. She was insistent that we actually get married after I admitted to her the rings were just for show, and I got to witness a first-hand Catholic-mother lecture — as Andre called it — when she confronted him about it.

  The words living in sin were spoken amidst a lot of rapid Spanish, with hands waving, and I couldn’t help but smile as Andre cowered before his mother that was a full foot shorter than him. In the end, he’d said it wasn’t up to him, it was up to me, and I’d received a barrage of questions on why I didn’t want to marry her son.

  Even the memory made me laugh, because that wasn’t the issue. I loved being with Andre, I loved him, but right now we weren’t even real people. We were fictional identities created by the cops so we could testify against Paulo García, Luis Ramirez, José Rodriguez, and Samuel Martinez. Samuel’s brother Nicolás had died in the raid on the warehouse, but otherwise everyone there was in custody, dead, or extradited back to Columbia to be tried there.

  Andre didn’t think that would even happen, but it wasn’t our concern. The Columbians didn’t know Andre, and they’d never met me. Still, all I really wanted was to be myself before I even thought about marriage. Missouri was pretty, but it wasn’t Florida. It wasn’t Miami with the beach, and the sun, and the afternoon rain that made the whole area smell fresh for a few minutes. I missed the bustling city, and the intense nightlife that made me a fuck of a lot more in tips than this small town. I wanted my life back — but being with Andre was worth it. I’d never felt more loved, more safe, than when we were in bed together with his arms around me.

  Although for two nights in a row that had been all we’d done in bed.

  “Nicky, Mamá wants to tell you goodbye.” Andre poked his head into the bathroom, and I nodded, grabbing my shirt to pull it on.

  “Is Greg here already?”

  “Yeah, he showed up early.” He was sad about his mother leaving, I could tell, but I also knew that this visit had done more for him than anything else. He’d needed to know that his mother forgave him, still loved him, and wanted him back.

  Someday I hoped we could even move back to Miami so he could see the rest of his family, so I could meet the rest of his family, but the courts moved slow, especially on something this involved. Someday, I repeated in my head as I took his hand and walked out to see his mother by the door, already crying.

  “Oh, hijastra, I will miss you.” The tiny woman hugged me, and I smiled as I hugged her back, more relieved than I cared to admit that she liked me.

  “I’m going to miss you too, Señora—”

  “No. You will call me Mamá, because I know you will marry my son.” She leaned back, patting my hand as she squeezed it tight. “Please? I have not seen him in so long, but you have made him happy. I see it in his eyes, su corazón. His heart.” Laying one of her hands over her own heart, I saw the tears slip down her cheeks once more as she hugged me again, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

  “I love him, and one day… maybe.” I smiled, but she huffed and threw up her hands.

  “You will! And it is Mamá, yes?” She gave me a look, and I sighed.

  “Yes, Mamá,” I answered, and she cheered and clapped her hands together before she beckoned Andre closer to hold him tight.

  “Do not let this one go, mi hijo. Bring her home to us.” His mother spoke quietly, but I knew she used English so I’d know what she said.

  It made my heart flutter to think of joining such a big, loving family, but there was anxiety too. I really needed to get better at Spanish. I needed to not be such a mess all the time, and I needed to be sure that we’d survive the court case before I even imagined a future beyond tomorrow.

  A knock at the door made us sigh. We could see Greg’s shape through the frosted glass panes of the front door, and his mother’s tears just flowed faster as she hugged Andre tighter. I went and let Greg in, tilting my head toward them as he stepped inside. He flinched, and looked at me apologetically. “I’m sorry, this was all we could do. Any more time away and people are going to ask questions.”

  “I know,” I answered, but I still felt terrible that they were already being ripped apart again. “Maybe she can come back?”

  “I can ask,” he said, giving me a tight smile as the two finally separated.

  “We do need to go so she can make her flight, Andre. I’m sorry.”

  “It is okay,” his mother said, holding Andre’s face as she stared up at him. “I have seen him, held him, told him I loved him. That is more than I thought I would get in this life.”

  “Mamá…” Andre hugged her again, and I appreciated Greg staying quiet as they embraced, but he did pick up her suitcase and open the door again to signal that it was time.

  “Why don’t you walk out with us, Andre? See her off.” Greg gestured outside, and they followed him as I stepped out onto the porch to watch. It was bittersweet, watching as he put his mom in the car and stepped back to talk to Greg. After a few minutes, he laid his hand against her window, and then waved as they pulled away.

  I waited, not saying anything as he watched the car pull down the long drive to the main road, but eventually he turned and came up the steps, pulling me into his arms.

  “How are you?” I asked, keeping my arms wrapped loosely around his waist.

  “Grateful… I really never thought I’d see her again.” He hugged me tighter, leaning down to press his cheek to my hair as he whispered, “Thank you, belleza. For making it happen.”

  “You deserved something good, Andre.”

  “I already had you, and that is more than I deserve.” Pulling back just enough to look into my eyes, he leaned down and captured my mouth. Tongue teasing my lips until I opened and tasted him. I moaned into the kiss, desperate for his touch, wanting nothing more than to take advantage of our solitude, but he stopped me as I went for his jeans. “Wait, I have something to tell you. Greg…”

  “What?” I asked as he trailed off, a somber expression on his face that made my stomach clench tight.

  “There’s a new judge on the case, and he’s challenged some of the evidence that the prosecutor has on Paulo and the others.” Andre sighed, fingers digging into my hips as he fought the anger I could sense swelling in him. “Greg isn’t sure what it means, not really, but he wanted to warn me that there’s a chance they may rule a mistrial.”

  My head spun, chest tightening as I found it hard to breathe. “But… if they do that, he’d go free, right? He’d be out there?”

  “Greg says the locals are fighting it, reminding the judge that there are witnesses, like us, that are still meant to testify— but there’s a chance that, yeah, he could get out.”

  “And the others?” I asked on a whisper, my mind filling with memories of Paulo and Luis and José. Pure fear skittering down my spine. Fear of what they’d do to me if they found me, fear of them killing Andre if they learned he was alive. Miami wasn’t free of corruption, and there were enough people that could be bought off with the kind of money Paulo had
that Andre’s undercover role could be revealed. And if they learned about him, they might learn about his mom, his family…

  “I don’t know, belleza. If they ruled it a mistrial, I think it would be for all of them, but I’m not sure. I’m not a lawyer.”

  “No! They can’t do this!” I shouted, and he pulled me with him to the chair on the porch, tucking me into his lap. But not even his warmth was enough to push back the chill in my bones.

  “You know I’ll never let anything happen to you. Ever again. Right?” Andre tilted my chin toward him so I could see his eyes. Warm brown in the sunlight of the morning, but the forest around us suddenly didn’t seem peaceful — it felt treacherous. As if it could be hiding men with guns, men sent by Paulo.

  “We have to testify. We have to call Greg back and get him to take us back to Miami so the judge can’t do this.” I knew I was panicking, but it had taken weeks for the bruises Paulo and Luis had left on me to fade completely. The mental shit had taken longer to deal with, and if I were honest with myself there were times, like right now, that I still couldn’t handle it. They were nightmares, bogeymen, and to think of them outside of a jail cell was too horrible.

  “There are… other options, belleza.” His tone was empty, cold, dark, but it drew me closer. An unfulfilled promise that we rarely spoke of, but it was always there. Waiting.

  I swallowed and sat up in his lap to look at him, my shadow casting half his face into light and half into dark. Andre was my hero, I hadn’t lied to his mother, but I knew that what had made him capable of being my hero was his darkness. It was what made him dangerous, what made him so easily able to slip into Paulo’s world and stand on his own two feet.

  “You’re serious?” I asked softly.

  Reaching up, Andre brushed my hair back from my face, tucking a strand over my ear. “I swore to you that I would kill them for what they did to you. You stopped me once before, you said you wanted them convicted, to spend their lives rotting in prison, but…”