by Hall, Marie
I sit up. “Did you go there?”
“Oh my God,” she scoots up and throws her arms around me. “I cheered there. How come I never saw you?”
I couldn’t help wishing we had, wishing I’d seen her. Even at fourteen I bet she would have been gorgeous.
“Four year age difference?”
“No,” she shook her head, “I graduated at seventeen, I was a freshman at fourteen.” Cold fingers grip my chin. “The first time I saw you, I thought I remembered you. Like déjà vu or something.”
“I would give anything to go back and see you at fourteen. I bet you were hot.” I trace her breasts, body getting hard when I see a shiver course through her.
Her eyes drop and lose some of their sparkle. “Actually, I was out a lot that year.”
I touch her flat stomach. “Javier?”
She nods and I wrap her in my arms, pulling her to my chest until our limbs tangle and interlock. I’ll never admit this outside this room, but sometimes I just like holding her. Touching skin to skin, smelling the intoxicating flowery scent, of course I can’t hold without wanting other things too. Tasting her, moving inside her.
“Maybe we did see each other back then,” she whispers, rubbing her cheek against mine, “I’d like to think so anyway. Why did you join the military if you were so good at sports?”
Baby steps.
I can do this.
“No scholarships. Family wasn’t going to pay my way through college, and I…” I clear my throat, “I had to get away.”
“Tell me about your parents.”
Crawling out of my lap, she doesn’t let go of my hand, still continuing to toy with my thumb. I focus on her touch.
“Not much to tell.” My voice is calm, but flat.
“You never talk about them. Do you still keep in touch?”
Grinding my jaw, a muscle ticks in my cheek. “Not really.”
“Ryan,” her gaze is intense, “do they even know where you are?”
“Hope not.”
Chewing on a corner of her lip, I read all the questions in her eyes, know she’s holding back, know she wants to ask more.
Open up, Ryan. For her, open up.
I swallow hard. “They never trusted me. About anything.”
She waits, giving me time to gather my thoughts.
Closing my eyes, doing something I will never do for another soul in the world, I let myself remember.
“My dad was this hard-nosed bastard. Really by the book. Expected dinner on the table at five, throw ball on the weekends with his only child for thirty minutes precisely, go to church Sunday morning, eat chicken dinners Sunday night. Worked as a foreman at a construction company.”
All the images come tumbling back with extreme clarity.
Sweaty, jeans stained with grime and paint, he’d walk in the house. A big man in my little eyes. Every day it was the same thing, he’d come through the doors, look at me and I could never decipher what it was I was seeing.
Looking back on it, I think it was disappointment mixed with a lot of scorn. Even as a kid, before all the shit, he’d never wanted me. He did his duty, and nothing more. He brought home money, paid the bills, put a roof over our heads and clothes on our backs, but always blaming me for ruining his life.
“Dad never hid the fact that I was an accident that shouldn’t have happened. He and Mom had me late in life. They were already in their forties and neither one wanted kids. Slip of the condom.” I snort, shaking my head. “Me, I was just a fucking disappointment from the start.”
Her mouth pulls down and she presses herself back into me, lining her back against my chest, wrapping my arm around her waist. I toy with the swell of her breast.
“Why do you say that?”
Because none of that other shit mattered to the kid me. I would have given it all up just for a hug, a pat on the back, an ‘I love you’. “Because they’d been planning for an early retirement. Dreams of leaving Texas behind, settling into the Caribbean somewhere and drifting off slowly off into their twilight years. But then I came.” I chuckle, a miserable sound, and I’m surprised that after all this time it still bothers me.
“I’m sorry. But I’m glad you ruined their lives.” She kisses my hand and I nuzzle her flower scented hair.
“He did do one thing right though,” I say.
“What’s that?”
Tugging on her shoulder until she rolls over, I smile down at her beautiful face. “He loved my mom. Adored her. I grew up wanting that.”
“I love you so much, Ryan,” she whispers.
“Me too, Lily. With everything.”
Then she’s tugging me down for a kiss and I’m scrabbling for another condom and this time our love isn’t fast or hard, but slow and full and filled with so much love.
That night I have another dream.
Chapter 21
Liliana
The next few days slip by in a blur of final exams and getting ready for Thanksgiving. I have three glorious days off and I plan to spend every one of them at home with Ryan and my family.
“Mama.” Tiptoeing into her room, I tap her shoulder gently. It’s only nine in the morning, but usually she’s up much earlier than this.
Last few nights have been rough on her. Crying out in her sleep and moaning, honestly, I haven’t gotten much sleep either. I’m not sure anyone other than Javi has.
“Mija?” Her voice comes out weak and scratchy.
Her skin is so pale today she looks like a ghost. Running my fingers through her hair, I try as best I can to curb the disarray.
“I’ve got to run to the grocery store and get a few things. Ade’s in the kitchen if you need anything.”
Filmy blue eyes blink back at me. “And Javi?”
“Still sleeping.”
Her lids slowly slip back down. “Okay.”
She’s back asleep even before I close the door.
Ryan’s standing in the kitchen, munching on a carrot stick and talking low to Ade. One look at my face though and he’s by my side.
“Angel?”
I shake my head. “She’s asleep, Ade. We’ll be back.”
Adelida’s face is grim.
The writing’s on the wall. We all know it; it’ll be a miracle if Mama lives out the rest of the year.
When the rest of the world is getting ready to celebrate and gorge on food, all I want to do is hide in my room and cry.
Ryan doesn’t say anything until we’re in the car and he’s cranked up the heat to high. My teeth clack hard.
“She’s dying, Ryan?” I turn to him, not holding back the tears.
He holds me, just hangs on and lets me cling and I’m so grateful.
We sit like that for I don’t know how long. Finally-- sniffling-- I wipe my nose. “It’s getting so hard to see her like this. A part of me just wants to run away, leave like Papa did. Does that make me a horrible person?”
Thumbing tears out of my eyes, he shakes his head. “Of course not. Lili, I can’t even imagine what this is doing to you. She’s not my mother and it hurts me. I’m so sorry, baby, but I’m here.”
Chin wobbling, I pat his knee. “I know. You know, I think God sent you to me because he knew I wouldn’t be able to handle this on my own.”
He chuckles. “Then he’s got a cruel sense of humor.”
He always does that, talks himself down. Can’t he understand just how much he means to me? “No, he doesn’t. Because if I’d chosen, I don’t even want to know what I’d have wound up with. Probably another little loser like the one that got me pregnant.”
“You know, I’ve always been curious about that guy.” He pulls the car out onto the road. “You ever see him around?”
Rubbing my arms, relishing the heavy heat pumping through the car, I roll my eyes. “Unfortunately. He and I go to the same school. I bump into him every once in a while.”
“I ever see him?”
I love when his voice gets all growly.
Smirking
, I pat my caveman’s knee. “Probably not. He likes to think himself big dog on campus, so you’re pretty much guaranteed to see him at every party and bar in town. Since we don’t do that…” I shrug, letting the rest dangle.
A light dusting of Texas snow starts raining down. Which is to say a mix of rain and ice, slush really. Turning on the wipers, Ryan taps his fingers on the steering column.
“Doesn’t it ever bother him?”
“What’s that?”
“Not seeing his kid? I couldn’t imagine that. I’d never do that to mine.”
“Wish more guys felt like you.” I give him a grim smile. “But most don’t care. He knows Javi’s here, I’ve never stopped him from seeing him. First year he’d come around every once in a while. Then the visits became less and less. Until finally they stopped altogether.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
I toss my hands into the air. “I don’t know. It used to. Not anymore. It’s easier this way. Javi’s all mine, I raise him the way I want.”
“And his grandparents?” He frowns.
“My mother is his only grandparent.” I lick my lips, settling back into the seat, staring out the window.
Aching for so much that Javi will never get the chance to experience. I don’t think about these things often anymore, life is just life, I'd resigned myself to that fact years ago and I don’t lose any sleep over it. But thinking about it now, it isn’t fair.
The only grandma Javi will ever know might not live to see him become a man. Might never actually get to hear him speak his first words.
Ryan touches my cheek and I look.
“Let’s talk about something else.”
Appreciating the gesture, I pinch my lips. “Fine, how about what you plan to bring to Thanksgiving.”
“Hey, that wasn’t in the plan. I planned to eat lots of turkey, and watch football.”
I pinch the curve of his sexy ass, remembering how I’d been able to cup them last night. The man could move in bed, made my toes curl thinking about the things he did to me in there. “Loafer, you come, you bring. That’s the rules.”
“Omelet? I’ll make sure it doesn’t look so ugly this time.”
Remembering the first one he made me, I snort. “That thing was pretty hideous. But I don’t think so. We’re not making turkey anyway. We’re doing a traditional Panamanian Thanksgiving.”
Stopping at the red light, his brows gather. “And what’s that?”
“Tamales wrapped in banana leaves, ropa vieja,” I pause, “means old clothes by the way, before you ask. Patacones, which are delicious, they’re crushed plantain’s, taste a lot like fried chips, and probably some tocino.”
“Mmm… sounds appetizing, especially the old clothes, that what you called it?” He pats his belly and I don’t miss the heavily laced sarcasm behind those words.
“Excuse me, mister,” I wag my finger in his face as we slowly ease back into traffic, “it’s delicious. I have no idea why they call it old clothes, but it’s actually steak and vegetables stewed in tomatoes. It’s really good and you’ll love it. Ade makes the best. ‘Course she’s Mexican, so that’s sacrilegious of me to say. But it’s true. So what are you bringing?”
He shrugs, turning left into the grocery store parking lot. “I don’t know, I’ll figure something out. You like dessert?”
“Tres Leche?”
Getting out, he waits until I met him around the other side of the car before spreading his jacket over my head to keep the sleet off. We dust each other off once we get below the overhang, shivering as we walk in.
“Is that that milk cake stuff?” he asks, getting back to my question.
“Ahh,” opening my mouth exaggeratedly, I nod, “so someone is learning Spanish. And here I thought you just liked to hear me whisper naughty stuff in your ear.”
He actually blushes, which is so adorable I can’t help but sidle into him, letting anyone looking know he’s mine and mine alone.
“Not exactly, but this is Texas and it’s everywhere. I can’t make that stuff, but I can make a mean jello mold.”
Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I laugh. “Make it blue raspberry and we have a deal. It’s Javi’s favorite.”
We’re tossing what few groceries we still need into our cart. Ryan holds out a stalk of cilantro for me to smell when I see him go completely rigid.
“Ryan?” Turning, I touch his arm, but he’s looking at me.
He’s standing face to face and toe to toe with an older man. The man looks to be in his late fifties, early sixties maybe. More white in his hair than black, wearing thick glasses and a blue button down shirt on his still muscular frame.
Lines bracket his mouth and eyes, but it’s obvious to anyone with half an eye who this man is. Because the eyes are the exact same-- the deepest blue of a bottomless ocean.
I clear my throat, knowing someone needs to break the tense silence, and extend my hand.
“Hi, I’m, Lili. You must be Ryan’s dad.” Maneuvering a step back so that I can press the length of my spine into Ryan, I smile as brightly as I can.
The man barely spares me a glance.
“Lili, Jack. Jack, Lili,” Ryan makes hasty introductions, his whiskey voice strained and rumbling.
Finally Jack looks at me. “Who are you?”
Embedding his fingers into my shoulders-- maybe for comfort, maybe to prevent himself from punching his dad in the face… I don’t know-- Ryan leans over me, his entire body trembling.
“My girlfriend.”
Jack’s answer is a disgusted grunt. “So you’re back. Didn’t think to look your Mom and I up, didn’t think we’d care at all. That it, boy?”
“Cut the shit,” Ryan hisses, “we both know that’s not true. All that time I was in Afghanistan I didn’t get not one goddamned letter from either of you, so don’t tell me you fucking cared. At least don’t lie.”
Jack jerks his thumb at me. “You let him kiss you with that mouth?”
His question is so condescending and mocking, that I have to bite my tongue to keep from snapping.
“It’s a wonder you ever found anyone to date you.” Jack rolls a bag full of oranges in his hand before dumping it into the green basket he’s holding.
Keenly aware of the pairs of eyes beginning to gather around produce, I rub my hand down Ryan’s side, hoping to calm him.
“How long you been back?” Jack shifts his feet and it’s obvious the small talk he’s making is completely forced, since he keeps checking his wristwatch and glancing toward the door.
“Mom waiting outside?” Ryan drawls, obviously also aware.
“Actually, yes. We’re meeting your Uncle.”
At that, I feel Ryan’s body go completely still and my heart beats so hard I could taste the adrenaline on the back of my throat.
“You remember, Uncle John. You used to be best friends with his boy, Alex. Good kid that one, comes and visits. You know, remembers his family.”
I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Hearing. Sometimes when someone tells you a sob story you think, it can’t honestly be that bad, right? But this is worse. How can a man just look at his son like that? With such contempt and scorn, hate. It’s visceral and biting and I want to slap the smug smirk off his face.
“Oh, I’m sorry, you mean the bastard I almost killed? Now why would I want to see that piece of--”
Jack leans in, his nose so close to Ryan’s face I feel squished between the two of them.
“Utter another fucking word,” he grates out so hard his spit lands on my face, I have to fight not to gag. “Say it. I dare you, Ryan. We all know what really happened. You’re a liar. A screw up and a fucking liar.”
Forgetting anything other than getting him away from this ugly, hateful man, I shove Jack back. For a fleeting second astonishment floats through his steel blue eyes, like he couldn’t believe I’d dared to touch him that way. But it’s gone just as quick as it appears.
Nostrils flaring, hands fl
exing, he rights himself on the store fridge, then makes as if to come back at Ryan.
Whipping my finger up, I plant my hand firmly against Ryan’s chest just in case he’s got any crazy ideas. Like say, attacking his dad the way he had Olivio.
“Go away,” I warn, dropping my voice low so that prying ears don’t hear. “He doesn’t want to see you anymore, and frankly, neither do I. He’s a good man, better than you and you never deserved him.”
