by Lym Cruz
The doorbell rang and Christina ran to open it. Melissa was standing on the other side, holding hands with Andrew.
Christina let them in and then she glanced at me.
Melissa waved to me, walking towards Erica. With a nod, I raised my bottle in response.
Sienna sat next to me where she’d been the entire time. I could feel her stare penetrating my skull. I turned to face her.
“That’s the girl you sketch.” I didn’t answer and blankly continued looking at her. “She’s pretty.”
I drank from my beer.
“Melissa’s here.” Christina came up to me and pulled my hand, urging me to stand. The beer bottle almost slipped from my other hand. “You guys have to dance.”
“I don’t kno—”
Melissa interrupted with a daring glare. “Can’t keep up with me anymore?”
“Oh, man,” Frank sang. “You can’t say no to that—” Stacie cleared her throat, almost roaring. “To that challenge,” he finished.
I let Christina pull me up and a samba was played in the background.
“Not fair.” I raised my hands. “This is Melissa’s song, of course, she’ll kick my ass.”
Melissa held on to her hips and flipped her curly hair. “I’m awesome like that.”
Her fiancé wasn’t pleased. He was shooting daggers in our direction with his eyes, which was all he could do. If Melissa wanted to dance, she was going to dance. Frank and another guy removed the table, rolled back the rug and also moved the couches back making room. All eyes were on us and the music was turned up.
Melissa was a great dancer, agile, light and quick on her feet. I was happy to dance with someone who knew the rules of Latin ballroom and I wouldn’t deny I enjoyed dancing with her. She was excellent.
I gazed past Melissa’s shoulder as we danced catching glimpses of Christina standing by the kitchen. No one was paying attention to her and she was eating, no, devouring a burger. She was sad. Her eyes indicated as much. And the way she ate was disturbing.
She continued eating fast, almost as if she were a thief in her own home and she had to finish before getting caught. What the hell is going on with her?
People cheered and applauded as we swayed. Whenever I got Christina in my line of sight, she was eating. She picked up a bottle of soda and drank from it. I turned my back to her following the beat of the music, my feet stirred all on their own; my focus was elsewhere.
Christina then cupped her mouth and ran out of the kitchen. She was going to do it again. Abruptly, I let go of Melissa and gave her hand to someone standing close by—I didn’t even register who—and followed after Christina.
“Ezra ...” Melissa called, but I didn’t bother to stop.
I rounded a corner, following after her. Christina was at the far end of the hallway opening a door.
“Christina don’t do it,” I pleaded. “Don’t go in there.”
I was surprised by how much I cared, and how much it was bothering me knowing what she was about to do.
She pressed her head against the door and inhaled. Her shoulders trembled as if she was crying. Slowly, she turned, resting her back against the door. Her face was stricken with tears. Sorrow enveloped her expression like a velvet cloak. Her entire demeanor wilted. Her face was flushed. She ran a trembling hand through her hair, shoving it back.
“Don’t do it, Christina,” I said firmer this time, cautiously taking steps towards her.
“Leave me the fuck alone.”
She was suffering and also ashamed. She couldn’t even look straight at me. I wanted to help ease her burden, but I had no idea where or how to begin.
Christina
There was barely any space separating the two of us anymore. Why did he follow me? What on earth did Ezra want with me?
“Why don’t you talk to me,” Ezra repeated, running his knuckles down my face. “Please?”
“Because I have nothing to say to you.”
“You’re going to do it again, aren’t you?”
He slipped a hand around my waist, tenderly spreading his hand over my hip.
I had a snarky answer prepared but instead, the truth slipped off my tongue. “I have to.” I sniffed up the tears that threatened. “You don’t understand.”
“Make me understand.” He rested his forehead on mine. “Explain it to me.”
I felt lower than low and shittier than shit. It was one of those moments where I hated myself and even if I explained it to him, he wouldn’t understand. No one ever did.
It hurt me seeing him dancing with Melissa so flawlessly. Jealousy and rage both clouded my mind. It was possible he still had feelings for her.
I wanted Ezra here tonight to observe how he’d react around Melissa and she continually held his attention. Watching them together was akin to a sharp stab right in my heart.
The past few weeks have been overwhelmingly confusing for me. Every time he touched me, accidentally or not, I felt something—a tender sensation that ran up my spine. Every time I caught him watching me made my pulse quicken.
I wasn’t frail. I’d learned to toughen up a long time ago. However, this version of myself was baffling.
“Ezra, go back out and do your thing with Melissa.”
“I don’t want to.” His lips were so close to mine. So close his warm breath tickled my skin. “Come dance with me.”
“You’re just saying that to stop me from going into the room. You want to dance with Melissa and it’s obvious you enjoy her company.”
He pulled back with a crease forming between his brows. “What? You’re the one who literally threw me into her arms. You’re the one who said we should dance.”
“But you didn’t turn down the opportunity, did you?”
“Oh, Christina.” His words were underscored by a hint of amusement. “Are you jealous?”
Instantly I scorched, utterly mortified.
“If I wanted to be with Melissa so badly then why am I here?” He searched my eyes but I offered no response. “I could have stayed dancing with Melissa but I didn’t.”
I absorbed his words. God, I was stupid. I instigated this entire situation because I was afraid. It was easier to believe Ezra had feelings for Melissa then to admit that there was something building between us. Or maybe it was my imagination running wild—seeing what it wanted. I wasn’t sure.
“Oh my God!” I heard a high-pitched scream. I could recognize that squeak even if it were a thousand miles away. “I’m, like, so sorry.”
Ezra straightened and I shot Erica a look that said, “If you open your big mouth, I will slit your throat.”
“I’m going, you guys can resume whatever it is that you were doing,” Erica mumbled and disappeared.
“What do you say?” Ezra pressed. “Can I have a dance?”
I shook my head. “I can’t. Not right now.”
He nodded and pinched my nose. “Okay, tomorrow I’ll come get you. I want to show you something.”
“Are you leaving?”
He pressed one soft kiss to my forehead. “Yes, I can’t stay here knowing what you’re about to do to yourself.” I blinked, speechless.
He stopped by the bookshelf and huffed. “Is this where you get your dark side from?” He pulled out one of Stephen King’s novels, inspected it and then put it back. “You have a lot of his books.”
“I have all of his books,” I corrected. “And FYI, I was born with a dark side.”
He smiled, but it wasn’t honest. “See you tomorrow.”
I nodded and he walked away. Even when he was gone, I stood there staring ahead at nothing, considering not going into the bathroom. Even with all the pondering, I couldn’t resist the impulse. I entered my room and closed the door behind me.
The rest of the party was a drag after Ezra left, and as the night went on, one-by-one the guests took their leave. Close to midnight, there was only Erica and Melissa left—plus their respective partners.
David and Andrew were on the couch
with their feet propped up on my furniture. I kicked David’s leg off and Andrew removed his before I was able to strike him. Bending forward, I cleared the empty cups dispersed around them.
“So how has it been working with Ezra?” Erica said casually from the kitchen where she was seated, doing nothing. From the grin on her face, I could tell she was dying to blurt out what she saw.
I made my way towards her and mouthed, “Shut the hell up.”
“Yeah, how’s it going, Tina?” Melissa said, loading the dishwasher. She had her back turned to us. “If you’re still there that’s a good thing, right?”
“Sure,” I said, “things are fine.”
Erica snort-laughed and Melissa spun, leaning against the counter.
“What?” Melissa asked Erica.
“I swear to God, Erica,” I warned, “I will hurt you.”
“Oh, now I’m curious.” Melissa’s eyes lit with interest. “What’s going on that I don’t know about?”
“Mel,” Erica squeaked. I covered my face. “You won’t believe what I saw.”
I took my hands away from my face, waiting for the nonsense Erica was about to spew. As overly dramatic as she was, anything could have come out of her mouth.
“I saw ...” Erica widened her eyes, beaming and whispered, “Ezra and Christina making out in her room.”
“Seriously, Erica? What the hell is wrong with you?” I spat. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“No!” The expression on Melissa’s face was of disbelief. “Ezra?”
I brought my hands up and massaged my temples. “We weren’t making out,” I whisper-hissed. “We were talking.”
“With his mouth on yours?” Erica laughed. “That had to be some very important conversation since you had to deliver the words directly into his mouth.”
“Mel, can we go?” Andrew called.
“Hold on,” she said not even looking at him, rather she dissolved into laughter. “You and Ezra,” she said between chortles. “No way. You and Ezra? I thought you didn’t like him.”
“Well, now I don’t like you either.” The more she laughed it caused fury to wage war inside of me. “I didn’t get the joke,” I said brusquely. “Please explain.” Promptly, their laughter ceased.
“I’m sorry Tina,” Melissa said, her eyes pooled with unshed tears. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I never expected you and Ezra to hook up. You guys are so different.”
“We’re not hooking up,” I said dryly.
“Yeah right, I saw it with my own eyes.”
“You saw nothing!” I slammed my hand on the kitchen island. “We were not making out. We were talking and he’s ... he’s my friend. I think.”
“Whom you occasionally make out with.” Erica had to add. She thought she was being funny, but her jokes were having the opposite effect on me. Was I that bizarre that they thought it was funny for Ezra to take an interest in me?
“Okay, Erica stop it,” Melissa reprimanded. “Jokes aside now, you know nothing happened between Ezra and me. If the two of you decide to take your friendship to the next level ...” I scowled. “Or not, then I’m fine with it. Ezra’s a great guy.”
“Can’t you text whatever it is you all are whispering about,” Andrew complained impatiently.
“No!” we all answered at once.
Chapter Thirteen
Christina
When Ezra said he wanted to show me something, I never imagined it would be a tour of his house. He parked on the driveway of a two-story house. It was the oldest-looking one on their street. The grass was the least green and their garden had a few bunches of flowers here and there. The garage door was dented and in desperate need of a paint job like the rest of the exterior.
He closed the front door behind us and my jaw fell to the ground. It was like we time traveled into the eighties. There was wallpaper everywhere. Not the nice kind with interesting patterns, but the ugly ones with huge flowers. I looked down and old, brownish carpets stretched as far as my eyes could see.
“Impressive, right?” Ezra mocked.
“Yeah, maybe for my grandmother.”
Chuckling, he took my hand and led me up the stairs.
He opened a door, of what I assumed was a bedroom, and motioned for me to go in. It was dark but I could tell the decoration was in line with what I saw downstairs. He flicked the switch and I was right, more hideous wallpaper.
“Ezra, I know a good interior designer. I could give you her number.”
Laughing softly, he took my hand in his and guided me further into the room. The bed was made and the wardrobe was ajar exposing through the crack female garments and possibly a man’s green shirt. The top of the dresser and all other flat surfaces had a thick coating of dust. It smelled like mold and dirt. Evidently, the room hadn’t been used for a very long time.
Dazed, I turned to him waiting for an explanation.
“This is—or rather, was—my parents’ room,” he said.
Ezra mentioned once that his mother had passed away, I never figured his dad was dead too. No wonder he was so close to his uncle.
“I’m sorry. It must have been hard growing up without both your parents.”
“No.” He shook his head. “Both my parents are still alive. At least I’m sure one is.” My brows furrowed, utterly perplexed and he went on, “My mother walked out on us when I was a baby. This room is in the exact same condition she left it in. Nothing has been moved or touched. Sometimes my father comes in here, sits for hours talking to her as if she were still here. This house is sort of a shrine, and this room is his holy place. He wants to hold on to everything of hers, and refuses to accept that she’s gone.”
That was sad. I wanted to say something comforting but I had no idea what.
Glancing around, I spotted a picture of a couple on the nightstand. I reached for it but Ezra clenched my wrist before my hands touched the wooden frame.
“Don’t touch anything. He’ll know if something is moved.”
“You told me she died,” I whispered afraid of being heard. After what he told me, I imagined his mother’s spirit hovering the room.
“It’s what I tell everyone. It’s easier than saying: I don’t know where she is.” He blew out a breath. “When I was younger, I used to make up all sorts of excuses when my friends asked about her. When I was fifteen, I stopped making excuses and decided to kill her off.” My eyes grew large. “Figuratively of course.”
I crouched to get a better look at the picture. I’d always thought Ezra and Vinnie had quite a resemblance and from the picture I saw why. His father and Vinnie looked almost like twins. Although his father was younger in the picture, their eyes were the same deep, brown shade. Their noses were both sharp and their angular bone structure very similar. The woman next to him with long, dark hair was unmistakably Latina. They were both smiling in the picture and hugging like a regular, happy couple. It was a tragic story but I didn’t understand why he’d brought me here.
“C’mon let’s go downstairs,” Ezra said, “this place gives me the chills.”
He took my hand—and there was that tranquility I felt whenever he touched me—leading me down the stairs, towards an open-plan kitchen and living space.
Everything was outdated. The kitchen cupboards were light-colored wood and some were without doors. The refrigerator was white and one look at it revealed it was an old model. In the living room, more wallpaper. It was like an obsession. The leather of the black couches was peeling and the rug was worn out.
He helped me settle on a chair and went to the fridge. At least it was working.
“I have nothing good here,” he spoke with his head stuck inside the fridge. “Just soda.”
“If there’s water in the tap, I’ll take it.” He shut the fridge door, reached for a glass and filled it with water.
“Did this glass belong to your mother?” I eyed it nervously.
“Yes, it did. One of the few still left.”
Afraid to
touch the glass, not wanting to ruin any piece of this museum, I simply stared at the water.
“Where’s your father?”
“Some medical conference in Europe.”
By the counter, I spotted a pad and without asking permission, I reached for it. “Are these your famous sketches?”
“No.” He chuckled. “They’re drawings that magically appear wherever I go.”
Ignoring his sarcastic remark, I flipped through the pages. Most of the drawings were of landscapes. Everything was done in pencil, the shades he created around the trees, waves and mountains gave life to the pictures. They were vivid like they were leaping out of the page.
I closed the book, returned it and clasped my hands. “Ezra, why am I here?”
“Because I wanted you to see that everyone’s a little cra—” He stopped and corrected himself. “A little off. We all have issues. You’re not the only one going through shit in life and you shouldn’t be embarrassed by it.”
I rolled my eyes. “So you decided to play therapist and show me your mommy issues? So what? I could open up to you?”
He chuckled. “No, that’s not it. I was raised by Vinnie and his wife; they’re like parents to me. I only moved back here in my late teenage years for, um, privacy.”
“Daddy issues then?” He laughed again. “I don’t have issues, Christina. I had a great childhood.”
I stopped guessing and waited for clarification.
“When you don’t deal with stuff this ...” He motioned around the room. “Is how you end up, minus the cats. My father’s life is on pause, he can’t move forward because he is stuck on the day she left. He walks, talks, goes to work but if you look at him—he’s a robot. He has no life in him. I think he’s hoping one day she’ll return, and they can pick up things right from where they left off. I understand he loved her, but she’s gone.”
Ezra spoke with such ease about the subject as if it didn’t affect him. Calm like a mere spectator to all of this.
“Why did she leave?” I wrapped my hand around the water glass but was unable to lift it.
