by Ranae Rose
“Oh.” She moved slowly, but approached the counter again, standing where she had before.
The weight of her silence was crushing. “Sorry you couldn’t get in touch with me. I was just so pissed that I threw my phone. That was pretty fucking stupid – now I don’t have one.”
“It’s okay.”
More silence. Was there any choice but to explain? “They found out I’m not enlisted anymore.” Instead of looking up from the pan, he gazed intently at the omelet, making sure it didn’t burn. “Wanted me to come back to New York. Like nothing ever even happened.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Between that and the flowers, it was pretty obvious they’re out of their minds.”
Chapter 18
“I guess it is pretty strange to send a guy flowers for his birthday.”
“I’m sure even they didn’t think I wanted flowers. They sent them to let me know that they know my address – where to find me.” Maybe it sounded accusatory, even a little paranoid, but it was just the sort of thing his parents would pull. If they had a message, they always found a way to get it across.
“Did they expect you to pack up and come home?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. They really broke out the heavy artillery – or at least, I’m sure that’s what they thought.”
“What do you mean?”
“Offered me a job. A nicer place to live than anyone really needs. Money. All that shit.” He might as well have been cooking his insides instead of breakfast-for-dinner – every internal organ he possessed was hot with anger. Had they really thought he could be lured in with material possessions?
That stuff had meant something to him at one point, but never as much as it meant to his parents and brother. Now, it meant nothing to him. All the material possessions in the world couldn’t make up for what he lacked as a person.
“Your parents have a lot of money?” She sounded surprised.
And why shouldn’t she be? He lived like what he was – a blue-collar worker just trying to get by. “More than what’s good for them. My father is CEO of a multinational construction firm headquarted in Brooklyn. It’s a pretty successful company.”
“So I guess they were disappointed when you joined the Marine Corps instead of pursuing a white-collar career?”
“That’d be an understatement. I dropped out of college to join when I was less than a year away from a degree. They were furious – thought I was throwing away my future.” As he flipped the omelet, a bitter laugh escaped him. “Maybe they were right in some ways, but not in the ways they think.”
Sometimes – most of the time – it really did feel like he’d thrown his future away. Not that he regretted joining the Marine Corps, but he sure as hell regretted how it had ended. Now he couldn’t even pull off his dead-end construction job, and fighting … he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it forever, or ever move into a higher echelon. He just couldn’t bring himself to think about it.
“What led you to make such a drastic decision?”
However things had turned out, he still remembered his motivation to pursue a military career. “I wanted to do something on my own – make my own choice, you know? I felt like I was too old to just go along with whatever my parents wanted me to do. I wasn’t ready to settle down forever in the version of life they’d imagined for me. I guess that sounds ungrateful, since my life was an opportunity some people would kill to have.”
His parents had told him over and over again how stupid he’d been to throw away what they’d given him, what anyone else would’ve appreciated. It hadn’t gotten through, and even though he still didn’t share their opinions, it was hard to imagine that Ally would think he’d acted like anything other than a spoiled brat. He knew damn well that she’d never had the opportunity to pursue a college education.
“I don’t think so.”
“No?” He looked up for the first time, driven by surprise to meet her eyes and search her face for any sign of dishonesty.
“It’s not like you left to do something selfish. You volunteered for something that wasn’t about you – something that not many people could do. And it wasn’t easy. So why should you feel bad just because what you wanted wasn’t what your parents wanted?”
“Yeah.” Relief flooded his mind, so strong it washed away most of his anger. “You’re right, but they won’t see it that way. They’re not used to not getting their way. And honestly, after all this time, I couldn’t give a shit less.”
“Sorry about your parents and … everything.”
He shook his head. “Not your fault.”
“No, I mean, this is a terrible birthday. I wanted to make today special for you, but it’s been anything but.”
He forgot about the omelet he’d been about to lift from the pan. Turning, he devoted his attention to her instead. “Last year on my birthday, I was in Afghanistan. Spending the day with you – sex with you and even eating omelets with you – beats the hell out of that.” She had no idea how true it was.
“You were in Afghanistan a year ago?”
He nodded. “It was just after I turned twenty-five that I got caught in that IED explosion. A couple months after that the Marine Corps decided I wasn’t fit for duty anymore and I was honorably discharged for medical reasons.”
“Because of your TBI?”
“Yeah. That and my leg. You know how it gets stiff when I haven’t moved it for a while. Not a big deal at home, but at war it could be the difference between life and death.”
“Do you regret having been discharged – I mean, would you rather still be in the Marine Corps?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes I think so, other times I’m not so sure. I didn’t completely realize what I was getting into when I enlisted. Don’t know if anyone does. I guess you could say it was a love-hate relationship. But life since then has been… I don’t know. I feel like I’m just existing instead of really living. At least then I had a purpose, even if it was one I was ordered to have.”
The purposelessness had been the hardest thing since being discharged. That and the loneliness. Before, he’d always had his orders and a team of others like him to live among and work with. All that was gone now. It felt so wrong to be alone, free to do what he wanted, as if he had any idea what that was.
“Well, I’m glad you’re existing here, in Baltimore.”
“I don’t feel that way when I’m with you.”
“What – like you’re just existing?”
“Yeah. When you’re around, I feel alive. Like I’m living in real time again instead of watching everything pass by.” It was true and it was amazing.
“Really?”
“Yeah. When I first laid eyes on you during my first day at Knockout, it was like something that had been missing for the past year or so just clicked into place. I wanted something – someone. It was a good feeling. When I was in Afghanistan, I wanted to come home. When I did, it wasn’t like I’d thought it would be. And then I didn’t want anything, really, because I didn’t know what to want. Until I saw you.”
“I didn’t realize…”
“Yeah, well, I couldn’t tell you that then,” he said, finally removing the omelet from the pan and thinking back to when they’d first met. “You would’ve thought I was crazy.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy now.”
“Good to know.” He would’ve felt crazy admitting it to her now, except he’d already shown her his worst side, had already hurt her. After that, surely telling her what she’d given him back couldn’t make things any worse.
He halved the omelet, sliding each portion onto its own plate and handing her one. “Here.”
She took it from him and they settled down at the kitchen table.
“Maybe you could come over to my place tomorrow,” she said. “I could cook a belated birthday dinner for you.”
“As long as you don’t think I’d be intruding.”
“You wouldn’t be. It’s just me and my mother, and
she likes you.”
“Does she?” He couldn’t think of why she would, especially if she knew how he’d treated Ally on Friday.
“You’ve been a hero in her eyes ever since you rescued Melissa from those creeps.”
“All right. I guess you can get in some driving practice on the way over. We’ll have to pick the Mustang up from my work’s lot though – it’s still there.”
“Okay. Maybe we can go out and get you a new phone first.”
He nodded as another twinge of guilt struck him. “I don’t want to be unable to get in touch with you.”
When his plate was clean, he rose from his chair and stood behind hers. The closeness the small table had forced them into hadn’t been enough – he needed to touch her. Wrapping his good arm around her from behind, he let his hand rest on her breast, his fingers curling lightly to conform to its swell. “You’re still planning to stay the night, right?”
“Yes.”
The sense of peace that had teased him a little while ago returned.
* * * * *
Just a few minutes after helping Ally carry groceries in, he realized he’d broken his personal record for time spent inside her house. It wasn’t like he didn’t like being there. But the argument he’d walked in on haunted his memory as he sat at the kitchen table, right where it had happened. As Ally stood at the counter cutting a bright red bell pepper into slivers, it was easy to remember the way her eyes shone when she held back tears.
The tension lurking in the back of his mind colored his perceptions. Ally’s mother Maria sat across from him, and it seemed like there was something off about the way she clutched her cup of tea. Were the little lines present around the corners of her mouth usually there? He remembered her looking younger, her face smoother.
“Is something wrong, mamá?”
Ally’s question took him by surprise and tripped his internal sense of impending trouble. If Ally could sense that something was off while standing at the counter with her back to the table, something had to be.
Maria lowered her cup and her gaze, almost as if she were ashamed. “I thought we could talk about it later – I didn’t want to put a damper on the celebration.”
“Is it something serious?” Ally poured a bowl of dark chocolate batter into a pan. “I mean, if it’s something I need to know… It’s not about papá, is it?” Her voice crept up an octave, as if the possibility had just struck her.
“No, no.” Maria raised her cup and pressed it to her lips, but didn’t drink.
“If you need to talk to Ally, don’t let me stop you,” Ryan said. The last thing he wanted was to sit there and cause problems for Ally and Maria, keeping them from discussing something that was obviously important while Ally slaved away cooking for him instead. “You won’t be spoiling anything. And if you need me to leave—”
“No, no,” Maria repeated. “There’s no need for you to leave.” She shot a glance across the table, wearing a slight frown and looking apologetic. “It’s about Manny.”
“Did he show up again while I was gone?” Ally was wielding a skillet now – that would be for the shrimp fajitas she’d insisted on making him after finding out that they were one of his favorite foods.
Maria nodded. “He dropped off the bridesmaid dress Inés picked out for you. It’s on your bed.”
“And?”
“He had a long cut running down one arm. And a smaller one on his jaw. I think they were from knives.”
“Did he say that?”
Ryan had only known Ally for a few weeks, but he knew her well enough to hear the underlying tension in her voice, just barely audible.
“No. When I asked him what happened, he told me I didn’t need to worry about it.”
“Well…” Ally started slicing another pepper. “He probably just didn’t want to upset you.”
“Well, he did.” Maria picked up the tag on the end of the string that hung over the edge of her teacup and toyed with it, glancing toward the front door. “I wish he’d forget about Carlos and the rest of them.”
“That’s not going to happen. Sorry, mamá, but people don’t just walk away from that lifestyle. Not anyone who’s second in command, anyway.”
Ally was right. Still, sitting in on the mother-daughter conversation was awkward at best. He would’ve wanted to leave if it hadn’t been for the sense of mingled anger and dread Maria’s revelation had left him with. The thought of Manny coming around where he wasn’t wanted, covered in knife wounds, was enough to kill the appetite Ally’s promise of fajitas and birthday cake had given him.
“Your father did.” Maria’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper.
“That was different. Papá never wanted to live that sort of life. He was young when Carlos manipulated him into getting involved. And he regretted what he’d done. Manny chose his path even after papá’s warnings.”
Carlos, the gang – it was all familiar, thanks to what Ally had shared with him before. So was the sense of sick dread sitting in the pit of his stomach like a rock. The more he thought about Manny hanging around the house, the worse it seemed. If there were people out there who’d attack him with knives, what was to stop them from following him to Ally’s home and bringing trouble down on her and Maria?
Nothing. Ryan wasn’t a native of Baltimore, and back in New York he’d led a privileged life. But he wasn’t an idiot or a stranger to violence, either. The fact that Ally’s brother was placing her in danger was as plain as the frown on Maria’s face.
“You’re right,” Maria said. “I just wish he’d change his mind.”
Ally was silent for a moment. “If you don’t mind, maybe you could help me by making the salad? I guess I underestimated how long preparing the fajitas would take me.”
“Of course.” Maria pushed back her chair and stood, heading to the counter where she washed a head of lettuce. Preparing the salad seemed to soothe her – she didn’t say anything else about Manny.
Ally looked over her shoulder and met Ryan’s gaze, flashing him a little smile that was half bemused and half sad.
He shrugged, hoping it would ease her worry for the time being. They could talk later, when they weren’t in her mother’s presence.
“So how old are you now, Ryan?” Maria asked. “Ally never mentioned which birthday you’re celebrating this year.”
“Twenty-six.” He shifted in his seat, resting his cast on the tabletop.
“Oh? So you’re only a couple years older than Ally. I didn’t think you two were too far apart in age.”
“Not far apart at all.”
Maria kept the small talk going, and he went along with it. It was better than hearing the note of longing that entered her voice when she talked about her son. Surely she wouldn’t want Manny around at her own expense and Ally’s? The thought was unnerving.
It was a relief when the fajitas were done, both because his appetite had returned and because eating would be the perfect excuse not to make conversation.
Ally set the table, warmed a stack of tortillas in the microwave and pulled the cake from the oven when the timer went off. All the aromas of her cooking were enough to have him salivating despite the unsavory conversation that had occurred. The first bite of her homemade fajitas was warm, spicy heaven.
Although he’d felt guilty just sitting around while she’d made dinner for him, her cooking would sure as hell be easy to get used to. He enjoyed it, eating and saying little, other than to let Ally know how good the food was. Hopefully she and Maria didn’t mind the silence – they didn’t seem to.
When he ended dinner by devouring the last fajita, Ally put on a pot of coffee and busied herself at the counter with an electric mixer. The smell of peanut butter filled the kitchen as she prepared his favorite icing. Combined with the smell of coffee, it was enough to make him think that he could eat a little more despite the huge portions he’d just downed.
After smoothing the peanut butter icing over the cake, she asked him if he wanted a cup o
f coffee.
“Yeah, sure.”
She pulled three mugs from a cupboard and poured the fresh-brewed liquid into them. “You like yours black, right? Or…”
“Right.”
She handed him a cup before pulling out a carton of cream and setting it on the table.
“Hey mamá, do we have any candles? Like the kind for cakes?”
“In the cupboard next to the stove.”
Ally opened the cupboard and pulled out a package of candles and a lighter before he could say anything.
“You don’t have to put candles on the cake,” he protested as she approached the table again.
“C’mon, it’ll be fun.” She pulled a handful of the colorful spiral-patterned candles from the box and began inserting them into the thick top layer of icing. “Without candles, it’s just an ordinary cake. I don’t think I have twenty-six, but I’ll add a handful to make it an official birthday cake.”
She looked so happy, smiling as she arranged the candles in a patternless arrangement, that he didn’t say anything else about it. It took her a few tries to get the lighter going, but once she lit them, they burnt bright. “Blow them out before the wax starts to drip onto the icing. Unless you want us to sing happy birthday first?”
He leaned forward before she could burst into song. No one had sung happy birthday to him since he’d been a kid, and never seemed like a good time to resume the tradition. “That’s all right.” He blew out the candles in one breath.
“Happy birthday,” Ally said, her voice halfway between a whisper and laughter as she leaned in and wrapped her arms around his neck, breathing against his temple, his jaw. Her breath was as warm as the steam rising from his coffee cup, and in that moment, he was happy.
“Thanks.” She was so close that when he turned his head, his lips brushed her ear. He resisted the urge to trace the curve of it with the tip of his tongue, conscious that her mother was sitting across from them. Still, he savored the light contact for a few more seconds, reluctant to give up the moment. She smelled so good, felt so good – was so good. And right then, she was safe and she was his.