by Susan Ward
She says it as an imperative, as if I were doing something terribly wrong, wanting to separate my roses.
My eyes round and I shift my gaze to Jack. He makes a face as if to say he doesn’t get Maria’s reaction either.
“Fine. One vase,” I agree.
Maria smiles. “The note is the roses.”
I stare at the flowers. The note is the roses? What the heck does that mean?
“Is it in Spanish? Can you read it for me?”
I make a playful pout, Jack laughs, and Maria rebukes me with her eyes. Those giant, dark eyes flash at me. Maybe I insulted her with the Spanish joke. My cheeks warm and my contrite face this time is sincere.
“I’m sorry I was rude. How is the note in the flowers?”
Maria turns the box and points. “The red roses are the man. He’s passionate. He burns for you. The white roses are you, Chica. Purity of love. Innocence. Beauty. The man in the center burns for you and wants to be surrounded by you, purity of love.”
My entire body burns red. Jeez, how could Maria say that in front of my father? And how the heck did she get that all from a box of roses?
“Definitely put them in separate vases,” Jack orders, breaking the heavy silence.
He laughs as Maria walks away, shaking her head.
Jack’s eyes fix on me. “I definitely want to meet your janitor now.”
The color on my face darkens. “They’re not from Neil.”
“Whatever you say, baby girl. I still want to meet him.”
I pick up the ribbon from my lap and finger the pretty violet bow. The flowers couldn’t possibly be from Neil. He wouldn’t even think of doing something like this, and he definitely can’t afford it. Logic says Alan, but my broken heart tells me that’s not possible. But why do I feel suddenly alive and as if I’ve just been touched by him? Why am I suddenly burning in my own skin?
~~~
I pull over in the drop-off loop at the Santa Barbara Airport. Even though it is the day after Christmas, a busy travel day, there are only a handful of travelers in the departure area.
Rene springs from the car. I’m really going to miss her. The first five days of break has flown by and we had a good time together, visiting our local haunts and getting into what I consider only low-key trouble.
I join Rene at the trunk of the car and help her pull out her suitcases. I grab the handle of one of the cases and we roll toward the ticket counter. “I’m really going to miss you.”
“Me too, Chrissie. Three weeks in Georgetown with Dad. Total nightmare. Be happy you don’t have to split yourself between your split parents’ homes.”
I give her a fierce hug.
She steps back and taps on my chest. “Be good to you.”
I nod obediently. “Call me when you get to your dad’s.”
She rushes off to the security area. Once through, she looks back and waves. “You stay sweet,” she yells, oblivious to the travelers around her.
I smile and wave back, “You stay cute.”
I climb back into the car and pull away from the curb. I suddenly feel anxious. I haven’t a single plan for the next three weeks. Not good, Chrissie. Not good at all.
Instead of driving directly home, I take the long loop through the city. I head toward State Street, through downtown. It’s my favorite drive. The road is narrow with a slight decline, so you can see the beach and pier as you cut through the heart of the city. It’s always crowded with people, and traffic is slow because there’s a stop light every block. Gives me enough time to people watch, look at the white buildings, the patio eateries, the pretty walk-ways with the small fountains and wood benches, the historic structures.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m at the waterfront and doing the last couple of miles back to Hope Ranch. I pull into our driveway and sigh when I check the dashboard clock. That killed all of thirty minutes. It sucks when you don’t have anything to do.
Inside the house, I find Maria in the family room watching her favorite Spanish soap opera and folding laundry. I sink down on the couch beside her and put my head in her lap. For some reason I want to cuddle up next to Maria like I did as a little girl and have her rub my forehead. I’ve got all kinds of messy emotional junk going on inside me and I’m not exactly positive it’s just about Rene ditching me for the next three weeks.
I’ve been in a strange mood since the roses arrived. I can’t describe it, and I can’t shake it.
Maria puts her gentle fingers in my hair. “Why is my girl so sad?”
I shrug. “Not sad. Restless, I think.”
“Do you miss your young man?”
I flush. I stare up at her. “I don’t have a young man.”
“You do in here.” She taps my heart. “Do you love him?”
I look away. No one ever asked me that question. Oh, there were questions, lots of questions, last spring after my fling with Alan, but no one, not even Jack, ever asked me if I loved him.
“It doesn’t matter how I feel,” I whisper, feeling tears suddenly threaten.
Maria smiles sadly. “It’s the only thing that does matter in life, Chica.”
In silence we watch Maria’s soap opera and it’s just gotten steamy when the phone rings. Spanish soap operas are very nasty things, and Maria is pissed that the phone is interrupting a very scandalous part. The irritation on Maria’s face makes me laugh.
I push up from the sofa. “I’ll get it, Maria. But you have to explain what happens when I come back.”
I jog into the kitchen, so I don’t disturb her, and grab the receiver off the wall. “Taco Bell. May I take your order please?”
I hear a pleasant, familiar male laugh. “You’ve been in SB too long, homegirl.”
I smile. “Hey Neil, Merry Christmas one day late.”
“What are you doing?”
I sink on a stool by the center island. “Watching Spanish soap operas and folding laundry.” He laughs again and it’s obvious he think I’m joking. I frown. “How did you get my number in SB? I never gave you my number and it’s unlisted.”
“I’ve had it since we met at Peppers. I got it from Josh. It’s the number Rene gave him.” Neil starts to laugh. “You should have been there the one time Josh called Rene and your old man answered. Your dad is a trip. Really gave Josh a full dose of shit.”
I roll my eyes. Rene giving out my dad’s phone number to guys she meets in bars. Good one, Rene!
“So, what are you doing?” I ask.
“The family thing. But I think if I don’t get out of here soon my head is going to explode,” Neil says in aggravation.
I do hear a lot of background sound and people. “Big family?”
“Big enough. Three sisters and twenty cousins. All here. So noisy I can’t think. What are you really doing?”
I laugh. “Watching Spanish soap operas and folding laundry.”
Silence. I stare at the phone.
“So, do you want to go kick around or something?” Neil says finally, after a long while. “Just hang out? Do some of those SB things? I just really need to get away from the family thing for a while.”
I make a face at the receiver. Hang out? SB things? Is Neil Stanton finally asking me out on a date? I can’t really tell for sure. Or is this just more of our buddy stuff from Berkeley?
I shrug and wonder why it even matters. It’s not like I’ve anything else do to. “OK. I’m up for kicking around. What time are you picking me up?”
“Picking you up?” Neil repeats. More silence. “I don’t have a car here. I flew down. You’re going to have to pick me up, Chrissie.”
“Ah, so what you really want is transportation,” I tease.
“If that’s what you think, don’t bother,” Neil replies, a harsh edge to his voice. “You’re a very difficult girl to be friends with. Do you know that?”
Coldness crawls across the surface of my face, and then heats rapidly. Jeez, why so touchy? I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Where do you live
?”
A long pause. “The lower eastside, one block over from Milpas Street.”
I frown. Neil says that like I should know where it is. “How do I get there?”
“My house or Milpas Street?”
I scrunch up my nose. “Both.”
“What kind of homegirl are you? Go south on the 101 and there’s Milpas Street. You want to go left, not right toward the beach. Left toward the eastside.”
Well, that sounds simple enough. I grab a pen and a piece of paper. “What’s the address?” I write it down and repeat it to Neil since I’ve never heard of the street before. “Is that right?”
“Perfect. Now, when you get here, just pull into the driveway and honk the horn. That’s what Josh does. It makes everything easier.”
I don’t like the sound of that. “What? You embarrassed to have your family meet me?”
“No,” he replies with irritation. “I don’t want to be trapped here for another hour while everyone insists on meeting you.”
I laugh. “It can’t be that bad.”
“I don’t bring girls home, OK? Like seriously. You’ll be the first one.”
I frown. That’s odd. Neil is a really good looking guy. He must have had tons of girlfriends in high school.
“Didn’t your parents ever want to meet your girlfriends?”
A loud exhale of breath. “Yes. And I should point out, you’re not my girlfriend.” Another long pause. “Fine. Walk to the door. Find out for yourself. When can you get here?”
“When do you want me?” I blush. That didn’t come out right.
“About eight hours ago,” he says with humorous desperation.
I smile. “Give me thirty minutes.”
“You may be saving my life, Chrissie.”
I hang up the phone. OK, a date that is not a date, hanging out and doing something Neil calls SB things. What do I wear? I pull from my drawers a pair of jeans and a black tank top, from the closet I grab my Converse and a pink sweater to tie around my waist. It’s warm now, but the weather could change in an hour and I don’t know where we’re going.
After I dress, I go to the bathroom, brush my teeth, and put on a touch of mascara and some lip gloss. I brush out my hair, puff it with my fingers, and give it a light spray.
In the driveway, I find my car blocked in by Jack’s. I go back into the house and down the hallway to my dad’s bedroom. Jack is on the bed, reading.
“Can I borrow your car, Daddy? I’m blocked in and I don’t want to play musical vehicles.”
He looks up over the top of his book. “Where are you going?”
I have to fight not to make an are you kidding face at him. In high school Jack never questioned where I went, but that was pre-Alan. Crud, I’m nineteen, I go to Berkeley, and I’m getting the parental treatment over an afternoon in SB with Neil Stanton. If it wasn’t so weird it would make me laugh.
I sink on the bed. “Just out to kick around and do some SB things with a friend.”
“Male or female?”
I roll my eyes. “Male.”
“Janitor or TA?”
This time I do make a face at him. Jack is just teasing me. “Janitor, if you must know. May I take your car? Where are the keys?”
His eyes return to his book. “In the kitchen. You know where. Don’t be late.”
~~~
I go south on the 101 searching for Milpas Street. I can do this. I stop at the street lights for the downtown freeway cross-through traffic. I wonder if I missed the off-ramp and I’m not familiar with south of the lights on the 101. It’s like a demarcation line. I never drive pass the lights on 101.
The light turns green and I continue frantically reading the signs. So there is a Milpas Street. I pull off onto the ramp and make the left turn toward the eastside.
Jeez, I’ve never been on this street before. I didn’t even know there were buildings with bars on the windows in Santa Barbara. What kind of neighborhood does Neil come from? I tighten my fingers around the steering wheel. I should have played musical cars and taken mine. The Volvo would have definitely looked less out of place than my dad’s shiny new black Porsche.
I stop at a light and read the street sign. I haven’t a clue where I’m. Two blocks down I find my turn and I make a right. One block over from Milpas Street was what Neil said. I look at the address I scribbled down. Two-twelve, two-twelve, where is two-twelve? Why is nothing in Santa Barbara logically laid out?
There! No wonder I missed it. The house is set back from the street, with a long driveway and a smaller structure before it. Well, this isn’t awful. It’s charming. It makes me curious about Neil’s family.
Neil’s parents’ house is a lively blue California bungalow with white shutters and a pretty front porch, crowded with plants and rattan patio furnishings. It’s an old house, but then most houses in the downtown area are old, and it is small. Neil said he has three sisters. How do they all fit in there?
I pull into the driveway, lift my hand to honk the horn, and stop myself. Nope, I want to go inside. I want to meet Neil’s family.
Neil is, if nothing else, an enigma. As friendly as he is, he is never personal. He never talks about his family, his days with Josh and the band, his music, or even casually about his love life. If I take Neil at only what he shares, I would have to believe that this superhot guy doesn’t date. Why is Neil so private about everything?
I climb from the car and I can hear the sound of lots of people from the backyard. I walk up the four concrete steps onto the porch, pull back the black iron security screen door, and knock beneath the wreath of eucalyptus on the heavy oak door.
I take a last, anxious glance over my shoulder at Jack’s car having second thoughts about this. It didn’t occur to me until I knocked that Neil might get pissed about this. He doesn’t introduce girls to his family and he didn’t want me to come in. I’m sort of invading his personal space. Personal space is definitely an important boundary to Neil, and I don’t know how he’s going to feel about this.
The door is jerked wide. Too late.
“May I help you?”
The man standing before me is tall, tan, and very fit for what looks like a man in his fifties. His expression is warm and strangely intimidating simultaneously. Sandy brown hair, big green eyes, baggy board shorts beneath a t-shirt: Neil’s dad.
“Do you need help?” he says, this time louder.
I blush. Crap, I didn’t answer him the first time. I just stood there studying him. Neil’s dad looks over the top of me and notices the Porsche parked in his driveway. A curious stare fixes on me and the color on my face deepens.
“I’m here to pick up Neil,” I mutter and then kick myself mentally because that was lame. I smile. “I’m Chrissie.”
Now his expression is one of surprise. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Chrissie.” His gaze shifts to the car again. “Would you like to come in?”
Another tall male, clearly a Stanton by the looks of him, and by his age probably one of the twenty cousins, is in the doorway now with his arm around Mr. Stanton’s shoulders. “Is that your car?” he asks.
I nod. What is it with guys and cars?
“This year’s model. A Carrera. Right?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. It’s my dad’s. I drive a Volvo.”
Mr. Stanton laughs. “It’s good that your dad has his priorities straight. I see too many pretty young things like you wrapping cars like that around poles these days.” He makes a slight gesture with his head. “Come on in. I think Neil is in the back with the rest of his cousins. I’m Robert Stanton. You may call me Robert. Or Mr. Stanton. Or if you haven’t guessed yet, Officer Stanton—”
“Or Officer Robert,” the guy at his side interrupts with a grin.
Mr. Stanton frowns. “Come on in, Chrissie. The rest of them are not as obnoxious as Taylor here.”
I laugh. Mr. Stanton is intimidating, must be that cop thing, but he’s friendly enough, and I can see where Neil gets his dry
humor from.
The door is closed behind me, and the living room seems to shrink around me and the very tall men. It takes only a half dozen steps to get across the room to the patio doors.
My eyes round as I step out onto the simple brick patio. Jeez, Neil wasn’t kidding. His family is enormous. The yard is a pretty nice size for a city lot, but it seems to strain from the sheer number of them. And crud, this is a family barbecue I’ve crashed and I don’t even see Neil here.
I’m quickly surrounded by four men that I can tell are Mr. Stanton’s brothers; the same coloring, approximately the same age, and the same smile.
Mr. Stanton places an arm lightly around my shoulders. “Everyone, this is Chrissie. She’s here for Neil.” That elicits an interesting assortment of reactions. I flush. Mr. Stanton smiles down at me. “I’m going to do this once.”
“And there’ll be a quiz before you’re allowed to leave here,” jokes Taylor, and everyone laughs.
“This is my wife Michelle,” Robert announces proudly. “She’s modern. She likes to be called Michelle.”
The woman in the chair in front of me stands up and offers her hand. Her smile is quick and pretty, and she is tall, blond, and curvaceous. It’s clear that the Stantons adore each other.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Chrissie.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Stanton.”
She shakes her head, smiling. “I’m Michelle. Always Michelle. Mrs. Stanton is my mother-in-law.”
I laugh and Robert takes me by the hand and introduces me to the rest of them. I can’t keep up with the names, and there’s an undercurrent of affection in the fast flowing words around me, the quick exchange of quips and comments tossed around the yard by the Stantons like a rapidly kicked hacky sack.
Neil’s sisters are young, the oldest only in tenth grade, and they’re pretty, long limbed, and green-eyed like their brother. I can’t help but smile at everyone’s boundless enthusiasm at meeting me. What’s up with that? Neil’s family is delightful. Why wouldn’t he bring his girlfriends here?
I’m directed by Mr. Stanton to sit in a chair beside Michelle.
“What would you like to drink? Diet or regular?” Taylor asks.
