But, I’m not going to be the one to bring it up, however. I’ll let Tex do that.
It should have only taken me a few minutes to change into my pjs but I linger in my room until I know it’s about time for the lasagna to come out and try not to think about what a coward I’m being. I don’t like talking and I don’t like difficult conversations and the ones Tex wants to have are going to be the hardest.
“I thought maybe you fell asleep in there,” he says when I come out. The lasagna is on the table, along with breadsticks and the bowl of salad that I started but he finished.
“Just doing some stuff.”
He nods but doesn’t say anything. He knows I was avoiding him but at least he isn’t making a big deal out of it.
He cuts a piece of lasagna and puts it on my plate before serving himself as I grab the milk out of the fridge.
“Nina, I get that you don’t like sharing personal stuff, so why don’t we start with easy stuff and go from there.”
I can do easy.
“I’ll ask you a question and then you ask me one.”
“Okay, what’s your question?”
“What is your full name?”
“Nina Marie White.” That was easy. “Yours?”
The corner of his mouth quirks. “I bet you don’t even know my first name.”
My face heats. I’ve worked with him for two and a half years, and he’s kissed me, so I should know this, but I can’t remember ever hearing it. The first time I met him Miguel introduced him as Tex and that’s all I needed to know. Maybe if Miguel would have let me take over the payroll like some of the other books, I would have learned it, but I haven’t. “I don’t,” I finally admit.
“You’ve got to promise not to laugh.”
“It can’t be that bad, can it?”
“Tennyson LeRoy Lippincott,” he says with pride.
There is nothing wrong with his name. “Tennyson, as in Lord Alfred Tennyson, the poet?”
Tex puts his hand over his heart. “Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.”
Well the poem is a lot easier to say than live by.
“My mom would be thrilled that that is the first thing you thought of because most everyone else asks where she came up with that kind of name.”
“I take it you were named after the poet.”
“Yep, though my dad wasn’t too thrilled. He thought it should have been LeRoy, after his father.”
“I like Tennyson better than LeRoy.”
“I used to hate it until NCIS came one. LeRoy Jethro Gibbs kind of made the name cool.”
I smile. That is one show I do like.
“Next question,” he says after taking a bite of lasagna. “Nicknames. Any when you were a kid?”
“The only nickname I’ve ever had is the one you gave me.”
He grins. “A nickname you well deserved, Horns.”
I roll my eyes at that. “What about you.”
“My sister likes to call me Tenney, and I hate it.”
“Tenney,” I tease. “I just may have to start calling you that.”
He groans. “Please, don’t.”
It’s been a good night. A really good one. Once Nina realized I wasn’t going to delve into painful memories, we had a lot more fun getting to know each other. Between dinner, dishes, watching the weather updates and the snow fall, I know her favorite color, season, sports teams, school subjects, movies, which she’s only seen a few, and television shows, except she doesn’t really watch that much television, and her favorite books.
We’re sitting at opposite ends of the couch, a quilt over us and her feet entwined with mine. I could be cuddling with her, and we could have been kissing, but then I wouldn’t learn everything I want to learn, and if we were cuddling, I couldn’t watch her face. I need to see Nina’s eyes to know what she’s thinking or if something becomes painful or makes her happy.
“Music,” I say.
She bites her lip and looks down.
“Well, I know it’s not country, hip-hop or classical. Anytime those were played in the gym you put in your earbuds.”
“You probably haven’t even heard of my music.”
What does she listen to?
“I’ll show you.”
Nina gets up and goes in to her room and then comes out and hands me the cassette tapes.
“These.”
“You can still listen to these?”
“No.” She laughs. “I’ve downloaded all the music to my iPod.”
I read the labels on each of the tapes: Pat Benatar, Madonna, Joan Jett, Stevie Nicks, and The Go-Go’s. I’ve heard of the artists, of course, but what is Nina doing listening to music that was popular fifteen to twenty years before she was even born?
“My mom and dad never threw anything away.”
Those words get my attention. Everything has been light since that conversation before dinner.
“I didn’t even know they were hoarders until I saw the television show, but we could barely move in our house because of so much stuff packed to the ceiling and in almost every room, including the room I shared with Jade. Hallways were reduced to narrow passages that only one person could enter at a time.”
I just nod. I’m not about to interrupt or ask questions, and I just let her tell me what she wants. It’s also the complete opposite of my mom, who donated anything that wasn’t used for the past six months. Every six months she goes through the house and does a total purge.
“One of the things she had was a Walkman from like when she was twelve or something, and those are tapes she recorded.” She gestures to the tapes she just gave me. “Jade and I used to take turns listening to the music, singing and dancing.”
A smile pulls at my lips. I can’t imagine Nina singing or dancing, but I’m glad to know she did as a kid, before her world took a bad turn.
“Jade was listening to the Walkman when the cops came,” Nina says after a moment and my heart seizes. She’s not looking at me but I don’t have to see her eyes. I hear the pain in her voice.
“Dylan was fixing mac and cheese for dinner. Jade was sick and we’d cleared a place on the couch for her so Dylan could keep an eye on her while he cooked dinner. Noah was doing his reading homework.” Nina glances up at me “Dylan always made him read out loud so he could make sure Noah was pronouncing everything right. I was at the kitchen table coloring because I had already done my reading.” She glances to the side, looking out the window at the snow coming down.
“Mom and Dad were in the basement, where none of us were allowed to ever go. If they weren’t in the basement, they were gone. I have few memories of them being with us and awake at the same time.” She clears her throat. “The day the police busted in was the last day we were together. Jade started crying and Dylan tried to comfort her. A cop turned off the stove as four police ushered us from the house as more cops in heavy, black gear, with guns pointed ahead of them, went through our house. At the time, I thought they were monsters. Big, covered in black, some had stocking caps over their face, others with shields, and they terrified me. We were each allowed to take one thing. Mine was my teddy bear, but I swiped the cassette tapes and shoved them into the hole in the back of my bear. Then we were hustled off to child services, put in separate homes, and I haven’t seen my siblings, or my parents, since.”
That had to have been fucking terrifying, especially to a kid of six.
“Jade held onto the Walkman and her bunny. Noah grabbed his books and I don’t know what Dylan took. Maybe nothing because he was trying to keep Jade calm.”
She’s real silent for a bit, probably lost in some really sad memories and I’m kind of afraid to say anything, but the thicker the quiet becomes, the more uncomfortable it gets.
“Is that the same teddy bear on your bed?” I assume it is. The thing is old and ratty, like it’s been loved on a lot.
“Dylan got it for me for my birthday from a secondhand store that year. My mom and dad fo
rgot. I don’t even think they were home, but Dylan made pancakes and put a candle in the middle of the stack and told me to blow it out really quick.” A small smiled pulls at her lips. “He was always afraid of a fire starting in the house and the four of us getting trapped inside. Not that I blamed him. The place was filled to the ceiling with boxes and papers.”
Nina tilts her head and looks at me. “You know, I didn’t listen to those tapes again until I was like fourteen, after I bought a really cheap tape recorder at a secondhand store. After getting some fresh batteries, I went to the park, popped in the tape, plugged in the ear phones and listened. The only one that was missing was the Cyndi Lauper one. She was Jade’s favorite and she was listening to it when the cops came.”
“Damn concussion,” she mumbles before she wipes a tear from her cheek.
The concussion isn’t what’s making her cry but if it makes Nina feel better to blame it on her head injury, I’m not going to argue with her. Besides, this is the most she’s ever opened up to me and I’m not ruining it.
“I missed them so much in that moment, even though it had been eight years, I really wanted my brothers and sister back. The music is the one connection to my childhood, the memories that make me happy. I used to listen to the tapes over and over until I bought an iPod when it was on special last year at Christmas. Then I splurged and downloaded the songs I used to listen to as a kid, even the ones Dylan wouldn’t let us listen to, along with some that Benatar recorded after Mom quit making tapes.”
“What didn’t Dylan want you to listen to?”
“He didn’t like Madonna and the song about virgins.” She laughs. “At least that’s what I remember him saying. I didn’t know until I was older what song he was talking about. It wasn’t appropriate for our young ears, per Dylan.” She chuckles. “I think it’s because I may have asked him what a virgin was.”
Yeah, I’d hide the tape too if my younger sister would have asked me that question at the same age. Not that Mom or Dad would have ever allowed music by Madonna in the house.
“Even though I was no longer six, when I listened to the music, I still felt a little rebellious. Deep down inside that little girl was rebelling and sticking my tongue out at the older brother who was more of a parent than the people I called Mom and Dad.
“Do you still listen to the music, or do just have it for memories?” I know she usually has her earbuds in when working out or when she runs, I just had no idea what music was playing.
“I listen to them all when I’m working out or training, but it’s Pat Benatar that I run to.”
I’ll need to pull up that music and listen since I think I only know one or two songs, if that.
“Have you ever listened to her?”
I guess Nina can read my mind. “Not sure.”
She grabs her iPod off the desk and messes with it. “This is my running list.” She hands it over. “I know Benatar isn’t the Country you like, but I think you’d like her music.” Nina stretches and yawns. “I’m going to turn in.” She glances out the window one last time. “It’s still coming down, but I’ll set my alarm anyway, just in case we can open tomorrow.”
“You’re going to bed?”
“Yeah,” she says like what else is there to do, completely shutting me out. Or shutting the conversation down. Or, maybe she’s shut her memories down and wants to get away from them or me. I’m not really sure, but it’s almost like I saw a wall go up immediately, like she took a few bricks away to let me look inside, and then sealed the hole shut.
She just told me a hell of a lot about her. Things I never dreamed about her childhood, and I want to go after her, hold her and comfort her, but she’s pulled away. The one thing I’ve learned about Nina is when she shuts down like this, I need to just wait until she comes back on her own. With time and patience, she’ll shut down less and less until she no longer knows how.
Her bedroom door closes and I stick the earbuds in and hit play. I have to look at the screen so I know the name of the songs since I’m not sure I know any of Pat Benatar’s music.
23
The rude buzzing jolts me awake and I fling my arm out and try to find the alarm, then hit the top of it over and over until it stops. Groaning, I roll over and sit up. This is the first time the alarm has awakened me in a really long time. I turn it off before heading out into the living room to turn the TV back on and check outside. The sun is just starting to come up, not that I can see it yet, but with what little light there is, I can see the snow and it’s really piled up overnight. Plus, it’s still snowing. After turning the coffeepot on, I head down to the gym and look out those windows. There is no way in hell anyone is going to try and come in. If they do, they are idiots.
I check the answering machine and I’m not surprised to hear from the part-timers that are scheduled today telling us that they can’t make it in. Then I record a message that we will be closed due to the weather and head back upstairs. If Miguel calls and gets that message, he’s going to freak but what the hell are we supposed to do?
After grabbing a cup of coffee, I wander back into the living room and curl up on the couch under the quilt and watch the local channel. My iPod is in the middle of the table and my stomach tightens. Did Tex listen to all of my music or just the running list? Did he even listen to any of it? Some of the lyrics say things that I cannot and I’m not sure he’ll get it. If he does, will it change anything?
I told Tex things last night that I’ve never told a soul. It was hard, but not in the ways I thought it would be. He didn’t get all weird on me, like I was afraid he would, but I hadn’t expected to almost cry either. It’s not like this is all new to me, but talking made the memories fresh again.
What’s he going to think of me now?
He’ll probably distance himself and I don’t blame him. My parents cooked meth and a kid raised me.
But, unburdening did work wonders. I was so exhausted when I got to bed that I couldn’t cry even if I wanted to and then I slept like I haven’t slept in a really long time. No dreams and no waking up. Like I was dead or something for a full nine hours. I can’t remember the last time I slept that long.
“So, do you really think love is a battlefield?”
I guess I should have known that I couldn’t just leave my music for him and we’d never talk about it again. “Sure is.”
“Why do you think that?”
Turning around I look at him. He’s frowning with confusion, but I can’t help but smile. I’ve never seen him like this. His normally curly, but tamed hair is going every which direction, pajama bottoms hugging his hips and he’s not wearing a shirt.
Damn! I’ve never seen Tex without a shirt before and I hope he doesn’t put one on anytime soon. Just because I’m not a fan of sex doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate some fine, flat and toned abs. There is a slight tent in his bottoms and my girly parts kind of tingle.
What the hell? My girly parts do not tingle. Or, at least, they never have before.
“Are you going to explain?”
My face heats because I so forgot his question. “Explain what?”
This time he frowns. “You okay?”
“Yep.” I turn around and concentrate on the weather before he realizes that I was ogling him and can’t remember what we were talking about. “We are supposed to get snow all day.”
“I better check messages and leave a message that we are closed.”
“Already did that.”
He grabs a cup of coffee and then comes in and sits on the end of the couch. He finds my feet and squeezes them through the quilt. “Did you sleep well?”
“The best. You?”
“Not so much.”
Shit!
I should ask but I don’t want to. “They are calling this the storm of the century.”
“I heard.”
The phone rings and I hop off the couch before Tex can and answer it.
“Why are you closed?” Miguel demands.
“Have you seen the news?”
“Bah, they are exaggerating.”
“The snow is halfway up the main door and nothing has been plowed on any street in the area. I can’t even see the cars across the street because they are buried so deep.”
“So make Tex get out there and shovel.”
I roll my eyes, glad he can’t see me. “He was planning on doing just that,” I lie. “But even if he did our walk and sidewalk, nobody can get to us. Nothing’s been shoveled between here and the subway.”
“Bah,” he says again. “Get it shoveled so you are ready when the plows come through.”
“We are staying closed until then. I don’t want people risking their necks because they don’t want to miss a day at the gym.”
There is silence of a moment and then Miguel yells at someone. “Turn on the weather.”
Wherever he is the television is loud and I can hear the different voices as they flip through channels until it stops on the weather.
“Holy Mother of Jesus.” It’s more of a prayer when it comes from Miguel. “That’s so much snow.”
“Yep!”
“It’s blowing too.”
“Yep.”
“Too cold. Too much wind. Don’t let Tex shovel until it’s done.”
“I’ll tell him.”
“I’m not gone one day and you shut down my gym,” he grumbles.
“It wasn’t me.”
“It was your voice on the answering machine.”
“At least we haven’t burned the place down.”
“Not funny, Nina.”
“So, are we fired?” That was his threat.
“Of course not, unless you don’t shovel, then you’re fired.”
“I’ll get out there as soon as I can.”
“Not you, Tex. Understood?”
“Yes, Miguel.” Like I’m going to let Tex shovel all of that by himself. “How is your brother?”
There is a pause and then a sigh on the other end.
Shit, I hope he didn’t take a turn for the worse.
“They are doing surgery later. It’s not good Nina. Say a prayer.”
All Horns and Rattles: The Baxter Boys #5 (The Baxter Boys ~ Rattled) Page 14