by Tiana Laveen
“He said he doesn’t like missing too many workout days, regardless of whether he’s on vacation or not, so that’s why he was at my place of business. It’s not far from his mother’s house,” Andre continued. “I tell ya, it sure was good seeing him again. Brought back some great memories.” Andre continued on for a while longer, then went into a long spiel regarding a client who was eating cupcakes daily on the downlow, acting oblivious as to why he was gaining weight instead of losing after their sessions. Though she heard him, his words were blurry around the edges. She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face upon hearing Jordan’s name, but at the same time, she felt a sense of longing and sorrow, too.
Andre said Jordan’s only going to be in town for a week. That’s probably for the best. They didn’t talk about me, or Andre would’ve mentioned it. Oh well. It’s great that he seems to be doing okay. He probably doesn’t even remember me, let alone recall anything we talked about. Seems kind of strange though that when I went through the old Christmas cards Erin had given me over the years last week, I actually thought about Jordan – and now, here he is. She had one that was all silvery and gold, so pretty, and on the front of it was a house like the one he used to live in. The Victorian. It brought me right back to that day he’d spoken to me for the first time… Never mind. None of this matters. I need to concentrate on getting this work finished, getting spiffed up for this fancy dinner tonight, and preparing to see my huge, crazy family for Thanksgiving. But if anyone asks me again at that damn table why I’m still single, I swear I’ll scream.
CHAPTER FOUR
Back in the Hub
Sitting on the concrete front step of the burnt orange and umber Victorian house of his youth, Jordan twiddled a toothpick around in his mouth, finally managing to fish the tricky piece of turkey from between his teeth. He spat the fleshy bit into the air, surprised the spewed saliva didn’t freeze upon hitting the brisk air. He heard a burst of laughter and looked behind him, then back at the street. Ma’s house was full of people, a bunch of noisemakers, friends and family from all over the neighborhood. When he’d entered the house, he’d been accosted with questions, even from a few strangers who drilled him as if they, too, were due some answers. He expected as much. It was his own damn fault for staying away too long, and now, he had to wrestle with the reasons as to WHY. Regardless of his long stint away, one thing was certain: Ma always welcomed him back with open arms.
Those same arms about smothered him when she’d first laid eyes on him a few days prior. She’d hugged him at least a thousand times since then and insisted he stay right there in his old house. In his old room, though the bed was new and it had been converted into a sewing room. The spools of colorful thread and odd canvas mannequin didn’t do much to dull the memories of his times behind those walls. He was drawn to it, yet wanted no part of it all at the same time. I don’t want to stay here… He’d had other plans, which had included a stay at a nice hotel in the heart of the city, but when he’d mentioned that to his mother, the woman had been damn near in tears.
The big house felt like a trap now. It was too big for Dad not to be there, walk around like he did, his weight on the hardwood floors. Dad had been a bit shorter than him, but he’d been wide and strong. You’d hear him coming before you ever saw him. Gone was the thick odor of cigars. No more boxing, baseball and football on the TV blaring so loud, a guy in China could hear it and give you the score. Ma still had the old man’s plaid jacket hanging on the hook by the front door.
She’d never moved it. It stayed there, year after year, just like it did when he’d walk in after work, hand her his lunch pail, hang that jacket, shower and wolf down two to three plates of food, all while laughing, drinking his ale, and cursing up a storm as he told his tales of the day.
Dad, Happy Thanksgiving. I could really use your company right about now. I thought I’d feel better after exposing Dennis, but it’s not enough. It’s not even that my ex cheated. People cheat all the fucking time. I’ve cheated. I’ve lied. I’ve stolen. I’ve hurt people. Sometimes on purpose. Most of the time, I wasn’t even sorry. It’s not just that it was with a good friend of mine, either. It was the fact that the sense of honor wasn’t reciprocated. We, me, our family, don’t operate that way and if someone crossed the line like that, they might get shot. It would be justified. I’m tryna be this civil guy now, ya know? Trying to be… what’s the word? Classy and well put together, because all my life when I left the comforts of our little circle, I was told I was crass, uneducated, crazy, a thug, and trash. It didn’t matter how many touchdowns I made, how popular I was, how many friends I had, how people in the neighborhood loved me—as soon as I stepped away from here, I was scratching at the window, lookin’ in at fancy people on the other side, tryna fit in and be accepted, prove that I was just as worthy.
Just as smart.
Just as good.
I didn’t know that’s what I was tryna do at the time when I left for college, but it seems like maybe, hell, I don’t know… I was. At first I was afraid to go, ’cause I knew people would think I was just some jock from Boston, and they’d make fun of my accent – say stupid shit. And all that did indeed happen, too, ya know? But not always. Once I realized people took to me, that it was all right, it’s like it wasn’t enough. I kept questioning their motives in my mind. Did I have to become one of them in order to get the full acceptance I guess I wanted way back then? I was uncomfortable, questioning things. It was like wearin’ a costume that was too damn small.
But it’s worn me down, Dad. That’s not who I am. I’m just Jordan… Jordan DeMarco. And I like wicked pissa cars. Sexy women. Football games. A nice house. At the same time, I like integrity and realness, too. I miss it. I miss lookin’ a lady in the eye and knowing she’s being sincere, not just tellin’ me what I want to hear so she can get what she wants… a shopping spree or some shit. And I like me, ya know? I have no problems with ol’ Jordan. I don’t wanna be anyone else. I’ve been here for five days, and all this shit I tried to forget is grabbing me in a million directions. It even gets me going in my sleep. Dreams.
I’m remembering situations, and things, and people I haven’t thought about since I left. Now, I’m back. I can almost feel ya here, Dad. I didn’t know where else to go… but somethin’ was pulling me home. Was it you? Was it Grandma? Something said, ‘Go home before you kill someone.’ ’Cause I was this close, Dad. I had my gun when I walked into that wedding. I had a fuckin’ gun and I was ready to use it. Something said, ‘No. Stick to the plan.’ It was crazy. I called Ma and Grandpa and said I was booking the first flight out. Said it was for Thanksgiving, but Grandpa knew I was full of shit. He always knows when I’m blowin’ smoke up his ass. I’m just so fucking pissed off.
Dad, this anger though, ya know? My temper is raging. I wanna run out here and fuck up the entire world. I wanna beat somethin’ down, make somethin’ bleed. I feel weak, and I feel strong. That’s crazy, isn’t it? If you were here, I’d be all right, ya know? You’d have good advice for me I bet. Sometimes I’d ask ya something and it didn’t make sense to me at the time so I’d chalk it up to you being drunk or crazy, but later, all the pieces would come together. Now, I can’t ask you nothing. I can’t talk to your tombstone and expect to hear anything back. A fucking heart attack took my pops. Stole you right away from us. Sucks to be me, right? One minute you were here. Then, just like that, you were gone…
He heard the front door slowly open, and the screen slap loud against it.
“Riley is askin’ about ya,” Jennifer’s voice broke through the quiet. “Coming back in?”
“In a minute.” He shuffled a bit as he sat there on the step, looking about. He was bundled up in his bomber jacket, but a deep chill still raced through him, coursing through his heart and chest. The cold rage made him want to put his fucking fist through a wall. Much to his surprise, instead of turning away, Jennifer joined him. She sat in her oversized red sweater and skinny jeans, her long, dyed dark blond hair
tucked behind each ear, showcasing a pair of diamond stud earrings her third husband had gotten her for her birthday. She’d made sure everyone knew they were real, but the marriage hadn’t been.
“We’re glad you’re here, Jordan.” She rested her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arm around him, squeezing him tight. He smiled as he looked up into the sky. It was a canvas of soft blue velvet. Stars danced and died right before his eyes.
“Thanksgiving still feels weird without Grandma, Uncle Nico, and Dad.” He shook his head, then looked down at his black boots. “Don’t you think?”
“Yeah.” She shrugged. She pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket. “We’ve had time to get used to being broken. You never slowed down enough to feel the first slap of grief. Now that you’ve been here for more than just one day since ya left, it’s got ya in its grip. It stings. Want one?”
“Nah. I had stopped smoking for like a whole year, then started back up when some shit back in California hit the fan.” She lit herself one and took a drag. Her narrow cheekbones drew in hard, giving her a corpselike appearance, and her pink lips pouted like a duck’s as she blew out smoke.
“Shit hit the fan in Cali, huh?” She smirked, tapping the ashes onto the ground.
“Yeah. Don’t really wanna get into it tonight.” He rested his palms on his knees, his gaze fixed on the stars.
“I guess your friend havin’ cake by the ocean with your lady can do that to ya.” She chortled.
He spun around in her direction. Her eyes were glassy with both sympathy and mirth.
“How the hell did you know?”
She laughed real lazy and easy like. “Seems you made quite a scene. Your friend Dennis that you talk about all the time, well, he has been callin’ me. You had me as an emergency contact, remember?” He sighed and closed his eyes. “Well, I guess he felt like this was a damn emergency. He said nobody knows where the hell you are.”
“What exactly did he tell you?”
“If you’re wondering whether he offered the gory details, he didn’t.” She took another puff. “He didn’t directly say it, ya know, that he screwed your woman, but I could read between the lines. He sounded pathetic. I told him if I saw ya, I’d let you know he’d called. That was it.”
“It wasn’t on the beach… but it happened all the same.”
“…And now, a man I barely know except in conversation with you calls me about my brother after what he did.” She sucked her teeth, took another puff then exhaled. “What fucking nerve.”
“He didn’t have a choice. The asshole can’t call me directly because I blocked his number. He was calling me while I was on my way to the airport, saying crazy shit like, ‘You ruined my wedding.’ He left it on a voicemail.”
“Ha! He messes around with your girlfriend and tells ya you’re to blame! Must be that California thinkin’ and dreamin’. I can’t relate.” His sister laughed sarcastically as she cradled her cigarette close to her chest, crossed her legs, and shivered. He slid off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders.
“Yeah, well, that’s how the cookie crumbles I guess. He knew better than to say that to my fuckin’ face. He then resorted to other ways to talk to me… sent me an email askin’ me to call. Said we needed to talk. I blocked him on there, too.”
“Did he sound sorry?”
“Did he sound sorry?” He rolled his eyes, snatched her cigarette, took a puff and handed it back. “Who tha hell cares?” Rings of smoke rolled from between his lips. “Remorse is a game of convenience. We don’t have anything to talk about.” He shrugged and crossed his arms. “He’s lucky I didn’t fuck him up right there on the spot. He deserved to be bagged. If I’d walked in on ’em in the act, I promise ya, I’d be in prison right now.”
Jennifer nodded in agreement, a wily, all-knowing smirk on her face.
“This is it. There’s nothin’ he could do or say to fix this. I let him off easy. He should be thanking me.”
“Yeah, seems like your friend doesn’t know you like we do. Best to leave it alone. He’s still alive. He should count his blessings. Come on, Jordan, I’m freezin’ my tail off. It’s cold out here. Let’s go in.” She took another draw of her cigarette, then got to her Ugg-covered feet.
“I’ll be there in a minute. I just need a sec is all. Some peace and quiet.” She nodded and handed him back his coat before heading back inside, leaving him all by himself once again. He put his jacket back on and stayed on that step for quite some time. It had to have been for his limbs started to stiffen and his bones were chilled to the core. His mind was buzzing from the beer he’d drowned his sorrows in. In good news, the food Ma fixed was fantastic. His aunts on his dad’s side of the family had even stopped through, dropping off some delicious dishes.
His belly was beyond full with the homecooked meals he’d had most of his life being once again at his disposal. Ma would be serving dessert soon. Maybe I’ll drive to Dunks and get some coffee in the morning. He’d gotten to see a shitload of his cousins he hadn’t laid eyes on in years. Ma looked healthy and happy and it was obvious that Grandpa was right in his element – the star attraction. But, even with all of those people around, the music, all the love and affection, he still felt alone. His heart slapped against his ribs, beating his soul to death. The stars stared down at him, their tiny bodies glistening like fresh tears in eyes of a child. He began to make a wish, like he used to do when he was a little boy, then stopped himself. It felt foolish. Silly.
What do I have to be upset about, huh? Wishin’ on stars, for what? Dad would say, ‘Man up.’ I’ve got a great job. Nice home with state-of-the-art security in a wicked good part of town, a pool in my backyard – all that shit. A sweet ride is parked in my garage. I can get pussy twenty-four-seven from some of the most beautiful women in L.A., Santa Barbara, San Diego, all over the place. Hell, I’ve fucked professional models, for God’s sake. The American dream. He took a deep breath, sighed, and looked down at the ground, slumping like heavy fruit on a vine. But, Heidi cheated. Dennis lied. Who cares, right? It’s just another woman. Easy come, easy go. She and I were done way before this happened. All we did was fuck and fight, anyway. I didn’t even really like her anymore. We’d been together for almost three years. Hell, we lived together. Neither one of us seemed to want to call it quits. Not out of love, but out of convenience.
I couldn’t stand her anymore, and she couldn’t stand me. We didn’t get along. Just roommates who messed around. But Dennis? I’ve done some fucked up shit, so it’s silly for me to think that some fucked up shit wouldn’t be done back to me. Karma, I guess they call it. But that was my friend… It didn’t matter that I wasn’t in love with her anymore. She was still mine! You don’t touch what your brother had! Where’s the honor?!
His chest rose and fell as the wound opened wider, salt pouring on it and tearing him apart for good measure. Reality finally hit him. He’d gained nothing but pain. He’d lost one of his best friends and his girlfriend, all at the same damn time. Jennifer was right. He’d never slowed down to feel grief or sadness. He’d kept moving, telling himself he was all right until his back was against the wall.
There’s just some shit you don’t do… Girlfriends and wives are off limits. No ifs, ands, or big ass butts. Honestly, the last six months of my life have been a damn disaster. Work was fine, but everything else is in the trash. What do you do when you just don’t love someone anymore? Who fell outta love first? Worst of all, why didn’t I care? Maybe I never loved ’er the way I was supposed to in the first place? I knew I wasn’t going to marry ’er. That’s what she wanted. We didn’t mesh like that… Shit, I want to get married, too. I want a kid someday. I’m not gettin’ any younger. But the woman I make the mother of that kid is like hella important. Heidi was just a pretty face. She was nice enough. She just didn’t understand me. She didn’t like the same things I like. She wasn’t interested in me as a person, and didn’t even care if she ever met my family in person. What kinda shit is that? T
he only time we got along was when we fucked. The sex was great, but that was it… Maybe this is all about my ego.
He ran his hand over his head, his hair cool to the touch.
Maybe Grandpa was right. Maybe I have been actin’ like I’m better than everyone here back home. If I have, it sure as hell wasn’t on purpose. Maybe I fooled myself into believing that I was one of them – and then the wakeup call came. I’m not a Californian. I’m from the fuckin’ Dot. OFD. We fuck you up and ask questions later. I was waiting for this wedding though. Eager. I had to play it off for three months, and it was fuckin’ torture, but so worth it. These people never really got me. We’re not cut from the same cloth. I’ve got thick skin. I’m not politically correct. I fucking hate swimming. The ocean is for fishin’ only, in my book. Disneyland is overrated. I like cold and warm weather, too.
He rubbed gingerly along his ribs, as if bruised. Maybe he was trying to find his heart again, make sure it was still beating… He needed to pat it, to make it believe everything would work out.
Seeing the look on Dennis’ face, though, was priceless He wants my sloppy seconds? Fine. I hope he now thinks about the fact that when he kissed his wife in front of all his family and friends, my dick had been in her mouth, balls fuckin’ deep.
He snatched up a large clump of snow, packed it between his calloused palms from years of lifting weights and playing football, and threw the misshapen snowball far in the air. It smacked against a tree branch across the street, causing a cracking noise from all the force behind it.
Dad, if ya can hear my thoughts, ’cause I’m not gonna sit here looking crazy by saying it out loud, ya gotta help me. Steer me the right way. I never asked ya for nothin’, but I’m asking now. I’m fighting wanting to go back to California. I’d gotten used to it there; I knew what to expect. But then, I rushed to get home, back to Boston. Now I want to rush to leave. Why did I come back here? No. Not the reason I’m tellin’ myself. The REAL reason.