The Science of Loving

by Candace Vianna

  “I just don’t know what to do about that.” This whole mom situation was a ticking bomb. I knew it was only a matter of time before she did something so over the top, I’d go bat-shit crazy on her ass, and Angie would get stuck squarely in the middle.

  “I say we cut the bitch.”

  “I like the way you think, but her head would probably just grow back, two even.”

  We were just going up Angie’s walk when she pulled up. “I’m so sorry I made you wait. I needed to talk to my dad, and it took longer than I expected.”

  “No bigs,” Danny said. “We just got here.”

  I searched Angie’s face. It was obvious she'd been crying. She turned away, trying to hide her swollen eyes and tear reddened cheeks. I enveloped her in a hug. I cradled the back of her head in my hand, my other arm banding around her middle, molding her to me, comforting her with my body. Then I just held her; rocking. She drew in a shuddering breath then relaxed, her hands sliding around me as Danny and I traded a confused glances over her head.

  She finally stiffened, pushing away. “I’ll just get my stuff.”

  I wedged the backpack she returned with into the back, while Danny checked out the grocery bag she’d handed her. “Score! I think I’ve permanently corrupted you,” she said with forced cheerfulness. “I’m so proud.”

  Okay, now I had to check it out. “Gotta love a beautiful woman offering blowjobs.” I was glad to see a little color return to Angie’s cheeks.

  I opened the doors for the girls then reached across snapping Angie’s seat belt, Danny was on her own. I didn't say anything when I got in, I just gave Angie’s thigh a brief caress and dropped the car into gear. The drive was subdued. I shook my head when I caught Danny’s eyes in the rear view mirror getting ready to pounce. I didn't want to push Angie on the way to meet my folks. She was already stressed out enough. I figured sometime over the next three or so hours, while we were trapped in the car, we’d get our answers. Because sure as the sun rises, we weren’t gonna let it go.

  Angie stared out the window, worrying her bottom lip while Danny chafed in the back seat with unasked questions. By the time I pulled into the Walmart parking lot, Danny was about ready to erupt. Mom waved as we pulled alongside their camper. I’d called her earlier, giving her a heads up regarding Angie’s shyness, but one look at Angie’s face had Mom yanking open the car door and dragging her to her bosom. “Oh mija, come here.”

  I mouthed, “Don’t know,” as she looked from Danny to me while Angie stiffly endured her embrace. My Dad, never one to miss a good hugging, strolled over and wrapped his arms around them both. After a moment’s hesitation, Danny and I looked at each other, and with a grin, joined in to get our hug on. I smiled. What can I say; we’re huggers. The poor girl was surrounded by a pride of James’ with no escape in sight.

  “Okay,” Dad said several seconds later. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of our system, let’s give the girl some air before she faints.”

  As we untangled from our huddle, I began making introductions. “Ange, this is my mom, Carmen and my dad, Stewart. Mammy, Dad, meet Angie, Angelina Martin, who is now probably wondering what sort of psychotics she’s gotten mixed up with.” Angie smiled awkwardly.

  “Bah, Matty, there’s no better introduction than a hug.” Mom still had an arm around Angie and punctuated her statement with another squeeze as Angie’s wide-eyed stare begged for rescue. I grinned at her encouragingly, but there was no way I’d risk life and limb by getting between my Mom and her waif.

  “Okay, let’s move out people.” Danny clapped then twirled a hand in the air, throwing it forward as she headed for the car. “Let the wild rumpus begin.”

  Dad smiled at Danny indulgently and gave Angie one last pat before heading to their camper. Mom followed after, but not before delivering the, you-better-get-to-the-bottom-of-this-or-I-will, look.

  It only took about twenty minutes of silence for Danny to crack. “Arrrgh… I can’t take it anymore. Angie what’s the matter?”

  “Yeah, sweetheart, who’s ass needs kicking, and more importantly, what needs kissing to make it better?”

  “I’m all right, I just needed to talk to my dad and get some things off my chest.” Shit.

  “Actually, I’d just as soon not kick your dad’s ass, but I will if you want me too.”

  “No, I’d rather you didn’t. He’s a big help. He always makes me feel better.” Oh sweetheart, if this was better, you must've had a hell of a week.

  “Fine, let’s focus on the kissing then.” Danny began loudly smacking her lips.

  Finally, a genuine smile flitted across Angie’s face. “I’d rather not, if it involves the both of you. ‘Cause that’d be really disconcerting.”

  I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes as we followed Mat’s folks out of town. I could've died when I saw Mat and Danny already waiting in front of my place. I knew what he saw: red nose; swollen, puffy eyes; clothes all wrinkled and limp. I didn't do that pretty movie cry, tears artfully trailing from mournful eyes. When I cried, it was a train wreck and real life ugly. I took a deep breath remembering Mat’s scent. God, he smelled good. I wanted to bury my nose against his skin and never come up for air.

  We pulled into a campsite set slightly apart from the others, Danny climbed out of the Lexus belting out Kaptn’s ‘Ricky Ricardo;’ sambaing—or was that the cha-cha—with an imaginary partner.

  “Sorry Lucy, I went Ricardo.

  I know you’ll be, back tomorrow.

  Get your whining ass out my carro.

  She will be back, that’s mamarro.”

  Stretching, I relieved the tightness accumulated from the strange introduction to the James family, and the long drive. I wandered to the edge of a bluff overlooking willows and oaks arching over a small stream below.

  “Come here mamasita.

  You’re my floresita.

  Lucy-si-si-sita.

  Come meet your fajita.

  Come here mamasita.

  You’re my floresita.

  Lucy-si-si-sita.

  Come eat your fajitaaaaaa…”

  “Turn it the other—” I turned just in time to see the rumbling RV back over one of the many boulders guarding the campsite. “Stop! Stop! Go forward… Now turn the wheel—no, the other way—more… Back… Back… Stop! Stop!” Carmen stood behind the RV frantically waving and yelling, her colorful boho skirt billowing around her sturdy legs as her once black hair whipped about in the breeze, strands of grey turning it a dark steel. She sparkled. She possessed that rare combination of dark Latina skin and shockingly pale gold-green eyes, and it struck me how different my parents were. My mother, even with her spa tan and chemically enhanced hair, styled so rigidly a hurricane couldn’t move it, paled in comparison.

  Where Stewart was tall and lanky, looking like an old school surfer: Rocking a loud Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts and OluKia sandals. My dad was short, soft and round, like a plush pillow; more comfortable in slacks and a polo shirt with a pair of loafers on his feet. Unfortunately, I inherited his small frame—and his hair and eyes—so I’d probably aquire the same roly-poly roundness as I grew older.

  Mat was studying the ground near the picnic table and fire pit tucked in the shade of the scrub oak growing out of the rocky ground next to a mini-van sized boulder. “I’m thinking we’ll set the tent here.” He kicked a rock out of the way.

  “Hey Biggie,” Danny said, walking over, “toss me your keys so we can start unloading.”

  “I don’t think so Taz. You can help Angie clear the tent space.” Danny stuck out her tongue at his back as he headed to the car.

  “Taz?”

  “Tasmanian Devil, like from the cartoon.” Danny put her arm around me, watching him. “I should tattoo a Taz on his ass when he’s not looking,” she muttered. “Pour enough tequila into him and he’ll agree to just about anything. C’mon let’s find the Patrón.”

  “Damn. Honey, the slides aren’t working.” Stewar
t came out of the camper. “Where’d you put the toolbox?”

  They all spoke at once:

  “No, Mammy don’t—” Mat.

  “Stop!” Danny.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetie.” Carmen.

  “My Dad and tools are a dangerous combination,” Danny confided. “It always ends with a fire or some other mechanical fail of epic proportion; spilled blood and trips to the emergency room.”

  “Would your dad get mind if I took a look?”

  “Hey Dad, let Angie check it out.”

  “I’ll get the toolbox for you.” Carmen looked relieved. “Stewart, why don’t you help Mat.”

  “No Mammy, I got it. Maybe Danny and Dad should scope out our neighbors and the facilities.”

  “Sure thing, come on Dad let’s go for a walk.” Danny skipped over to him.

  “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.” He grumped then looked at me. “I’m not that bad.”

  “Of course not, sweetheart.” Carmen patted his chest and gave him a peck on the cheek while Danny stood behind him, dramatically miming explosions and winking.

  Carmen exhaled as they disappeared from sight. “Another, disaster averted. I’ll get you that toolbox.”

  “And the owner’s manual, as well?”

  “Of course, mija.”

  By the time I had the tent set up, and our gear stowed, Angie was completely immersed in the RV’s guts. She’d stripped off the wall panels, exposing circuit cards and wires. I recognize the quiet intensity on her face. I got that same look when my creative juices flowed freely. I quietly backed out of the camper and grabbed a beer, joining Mom at the picnic table to watch for smoke. When Dad and the brat returned, we waited together in the fading sunlight for the disaster that inevitably followed all our mechanical endeavors.

  There was an electric whirring. The RV’s walls actuated, sliding smoothly out, and a few minutes later, the automated leveling system engaged with a hiss. I think we were still holding shocked breaths when Angie popped out a few minutes later with a relaxed smile on her face.

  Mom handed her a beer. “All fixed?”

  “Yep. One of the connectors controlling the drive motors had worked itself loose and you had a blown fuse. Fortunately, the fuse box held some spares.” That was so fucking hot.

  “Lucky for you I met your mother first, boyo, or I’d steal your girl,” Dad joked.

  “Speak for yourself, Stew.” Mom nudged him. “I’d dump you in a hot minute for her. So where’d you learn to do that?” All the praise had Angie blushing.

  “My Dad likes to tinker. It was something we did together when I was growing up. As long as I have a manual, I can find my way around just about anything.”

  “Well I guess I’m up. Dinner’s in an hour. Why don’t you guys get the canopy set up.” Mom stopped Angie. “No mija, you already earned your place at the table. You just sit and relax.”

  We all bustled off in the dimming light. Danny went to get the folding table and chairs, while I carried the bagged canopy to the front edge of the campsite where Dad already waited. I upended the bag, letting the contents clank onto the weedy dirt. Dad stood back, letting me sort out the pipes and joint connectors until I was satisfied everything was there and properly placed. We'd done this many times and he respected my system, or perhaps he was just humoring my compulsive nature.

  We worked together in companionable silence, assembling the frame then unfurling the cloth shell over it. We inserted the front legs and the canopy canted awkwardly until we repeated the process on the back, standing the whole thing up. Lastly, I inserted the legs into some heavy cinder block anchors. I added anchors to the canopy after an ornery Santa Ana wind turned it into a kite one trip, sending it cartwheeling across the campground, taking out several tents along the way.

  Full dark was almost upon us by the time we’d finished, and I could barely make out Angie’s shape at the table. “So what do you think of Angie?”

  Dad knew I was asking for more than a superficial impression. Mechanical disability notwithstanding, my dad was one of the most insightful people I knew. Having spent several decades working as a community organizer and activist, he'd witnessed people at their best, and worse and all conditions in between. His perceptions, especially about people were always illuminating. “Handy to have around… Troubled though. She say anything on the drive?”

  “Not really, just that she’d been talking to her dad.”

  He stiffened. “Think he’s hurting her.” Hurting women and kids was one of the few things my family’s live-and-let-live philosophy had no tolerance for.

  “No, from what I can tell they’re really close. It’s her mom that’s abusive.”

  “Strong words.” He twisted his wedding ring, considering. “I think there may be a few surprises hiding inside her she hasn’t discovered yet.” His eyes narrowed, then he nodded coming to a decision. “In the long run she’ll be all right.” Grabbing the back of my neck, Dad gave me a shake. “Let’s get the lights set up and a fire going. I want to dance with your mother.”

  The temperature was dropping with the setting sun. I sat in the gathering shadows hugging my knees to my chest watching the men talk in front of the canopy. It was easy to imagine a younger more vigorous Stewart, and see the man Mat might eventually become: lighter, leaner, but no less vital. Splitting up, it took them only a few minutes to transform our campsite into an enchanted retreat alight with lanterns and strings of twinkling Christmas lights.

  After Stewart disappeared into the RV, Mat came over to light the kindling waiting in the nearby fire pit, his eyes reflecting a sinister sparkle from catching fire as shadows danced and shimmered across the planes of his face. Straddling the bench behind me, he brought the scent of wood smoke as he snuggled against me, his large hands sliding warmly down my arms to stroke my wrists.

  “I love the lights.” I could barely get the words out. I was suddenly out of breath, my heart fluttering as I remembered the earlier heat those hands left on other parts of my body.

  “Yeah?” He breathed a feathery tickle against the side of my face and a wave of lust broke over me. With one breath, one lowly uttered word, I was drowning in him. His heat, his touch, rolled me under and thunder pounded in my ears. His fingers closed around my wrists as arms, thicker than my thighs, tightened. I nodded unable to speak, feeling deliciously trapped. He rasped his stubbled chin along my skin then soothed the prickly burn with kisses that left me gasping.

  When Danny and Stewart exited the RV heading to the canopy with a folded card table and camp chairs, Mat sighed, planting a final kiss on my shoulder. “Looks like dinners almost ready. Let’s see what’s going on with Mom.” Uncoiling, he led me to the camper. “Mammy, what do you need us to do?” he called through the door.

  “Can you set up the music, mijo?” She passed a box with plates and flatware out to me, topping it with a folded tablecloth. “And Angie, if you could please set the table?”

  Stewart smiled, reaching for the tablecloth when I arrived at the canopy. After snapping it open and settling it on the table, Danny and I circled laying out place settings. The scattered lanterns glowed white-blue around the perimeter and strains of soft guitar music drifted over as the fire pit burned merrily, adding an occasional pop. “It’s really beautiful here; peaceful. Thanks for letting me come.”

  Stewart pulled me into a hug, casually kissing my forehead as if he'd been doing it my whole life. “We’re glad to have you anytime; although, it probably won’t be quite so peaceful tomorrow when the place starts filling up.” I sat in the chair Stewart motioned me to while he lit a couple candles, adding to the soft light coming from the twinkling strings twined about the canopy’s frame.

  “You know, I think this is a camping first,” Danny said. “Something repaired instead of broken more, no accidental fires, no blood, no girly tears from Biggie on the way to the hospital.”

  “Those were not girly tears,” Mat said, setting
a platter of spaghetti on the table. “Those were macho tears of disbelief.”

  I tried not to ogle as shadows caressed Mat’s retreating form, but a guilty blush stole up my cheeks me when Danny plopped down next to me; smirking. He gave Danny an annoyed look when he returned; following behind Carmen with two large pitchers and a basket of bread. “What? She was my friend first.” Danny pouted.

  “Danny.” Carmen didn't say anything more; her tone said it all. I could see where Mat got ‘The Voice.’

  “Fine.” Danny huffed, winking at me before moving over.

  The food smelled great, and for the first time since that awful scene at the bar, I felt hungry. Stewart started the platters around the table, serving himself and then holding them for me. Everything was delicious, the bread was bathed in garlic butter; the lettuce, crispy and succulent; the pasta had just the right amount of herby tang. I guess I wasn't the only one who was hungry. We ate quietly, enjoying our first bites of dinner and something loosened inside me. I drank deeply when I discovered the tart lime of an icy margarita in my glass. Perhaps it was the talk with my dad, or the relaxed company around the table, but for the first time in what seemed like forever, I felt a little lighter.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Flirting With the Dark Side

  Maybe it was the margaritas—Mom’s drinks were lethal—because Angie was noticeably less guarded after dinner, joining the conversation with an easy smile. Danny’d refilled the empty margarita pitchers with blowjobs for dessert, or as Mom called them, “A bitter-sweet experience in the aftermath of tamed hungers when lingering cravings still held sway.” That was my mom, the queen of the poetic innuendo. It was one of the many reasons she was so devastating in the courtroom. And if Angie’s blush was any indication, the allusion wasn’t lost on her.

  “Come woman, let’s sway.” Mom laughed when Dad dragged her into his arms, jerking her close, swaying to the bossa nova beats of Stan Getz’s saxophone.