Falling for Her

by Amy Stephens

  Christmas had always been small for our family, in terms of gifts, but we all had something that we were thankful for. We each took turns sharing a little something that had been meaningful to us that year, and I listened as each of my family members shared their stories. That was something new for us to do, and I sincerely hoped we’d make it a tradition.

  Everyone mentioned how thankful they were to have me a part of their lives again, and I struggled to keep a straight face, knowing the truth of my whereabouts wasn’t a pretty one. When it was my turn, I took a different approach. I told how thankful I was that there were still believers in the world, people who saw others as a real individuals, with thoughts, feelings, and emotions, instead of being labeled because of where they were from, where they lived, or what they’d done. I was careful with my words, not wanting to give away too much about her. Without mentioning Erica’s name, I talked about how “my friend” was always understanding. While it’d been difficult in the beginning when she was first getting to know me, she never once judged me because of the things I’d done.

  My family sort of stared at me, uncertain where I was headed with my story. And while no one but Momma had known my whereabouts for all those years, I was sure rousing their curiosities.

  This “friend” of mine had never shied away from me because of what I’d worn. She’d never held it against me that I was Hispanic and that my family was poor. She had faith in me and liked me for the friendship we’d developed over time. Yes, there’d been times when we’d let our emotions take us beyond that, but she was a unique individual who’d made an impression on my life. She wasn’t afraid to be my friend despite the rules we’d been expected to follow. Erica had been a true believer in me.

  When I was finished, Momma had tears in her eyes. My intentions hadn’t been to upset her, but to let her and the rest of my family know that there were still good people in the world.

  That night, when everyone had gone to bed, I sat on the bed and contemplated calling Erica. Was it time? I held the phone, but couldn’t bring myself to dial her number. I wanted to talk to her, to hear her sweet voice, but I couldn’t do it. Not yet.

  I laid awake thinking about how it’d feel to hold her in my arms again. Could we ever be a real couple?

  ***

  On Monday, I met with my assigned counselor at the halfway house.

  I’d taken the bus all the way to the downtown area. I’d almost forgotten how massive some of the skyscrapers were until I stood in front of one of them. Double checking the address on my paperwork, I read the names on the front plaque. After seeing the name Cross Haven Leadership listed amongst the others, I knew I was in the right place.

  Inside, I located the building directory, and then took the elevator up. I thought it ironic to be on the tenth floor too. The tenth floor of the auditorium during my graduation sure had been a memorable moment, one I could still remember so vividly. I wore jeans and a t-shirt, uncertain if it was appropriate or not. I hadn’t gotten the opportunity to buy any new clothes yet, so I was still wearing Ricky’s things.

  I signed in at the desk then took a seat. Looking around, I found I wasn’t the only one in the waiting area. A rather rough-looking guy, who looked to be about my age, sat next to a tiny, bleach-blonde lady on the other side of the room. I wondered if he was a former inmate too.

  I felt a little apprehensive since he’d brought someone with him, and I’d come alone. Not sure if she was his wife or just a girlfriend, it made me wish I didn’t have to endure my first session by myself. I wished Erica was there with me. If for nothing else but the support and encouragement that I could do it, that I could make it on my own.

  Once I’d finally been called to the back, I spent the better part of the morning watching videos and reading through paperwork. It seemed more like nonsense instead of something beneficial, but it was something I’d be doing on a weekly basis for the next couple months. Before I was finished for the day’s session, I was given instructions for logging onto a website that had job listings. That sort of peaked my curiosity, since I was beyond anxious to find employment. The sooner I could get to work and earn a paycheck, the better I’d be.

  No one would seriously consider hiring me for anything that was remotely connected to my degree, but it didn’t hurt to see what opportunities were available. I’d learned what employers could and couldn’t ask in the interview process in one of my Business Law classes, but I’d have some explaining to do with the ten-year gap since my last job. And, well, that would be enough to deter any future employer from even considering me, degree or not. Hopefully, one of the counselors there could provide me with the proper tools I needed to overcome and make the most of those situations as I knew they were sure to arise.

  The counselor encouraged me to go ahead and select a few to apply for, but the more I looked over the jobs that were hiring, the more it sickened my stomach. The ones I’d applied for and had no luck with years ago were some of the same ones listed there. I thought the sessions were supposed to be positive reinforcement. Instead, they left me feeling discouraged.

  I clicked on a couple links, but deleted all my information before submitting anything. I guess I’d psyched myself into thinking there’d be better prospects than that.

  Ricky had already talked to me about a job with the fast food chain he worked for, but we’d have to work in different locations, since they didn’t allow family to work in the same place. At least it was an option, but it wasn’t what I wanted to do.

  I tried to remain hopeful when I got back to the house that afternoon. Even Momma had told me not to worry, that something would work in my favor sooner or later. Well, how long would I have to wait? I’d only been home for a couple days, but I couldn’t hang out at the house every single day. I needed work. I needed money. I needed to talk to Erica.

  Erica. Oh, how I missed her.

  That night, I pulled out the piece of paper with her phone number again. I wished she’d call me. It’d sure make it easier, but I could understand her hesitation not to since I’d not told my family about her. I wasn’t worried about my family liking her, that wasn’t the issue at all, but I’d sure have some explaining to do as to how we’d met.

  I just couldn’t do it. Maybe if I’d had some good news to share with her, then I could find the courage to call her, but I wouldn’t want to disappoint her since I had nothing to share.

  ***

  I spent the next couple days walking from business to business. Since it was after Christmas, most everyone was cutting back their help instead of doing any new hiring. It wasn’t looking good.

  On Friday, I came back home shortly before noon. I was worn out from all the walking I’d done. The next day was New Year’s Eve so there was no reason to even bother with any more searches until the next week.

  I hated to admit it, but I felt as if I was slipping into a depression again. It was too soon to be feeling that way, but somehow I’d thought it’d be easier than that.

  Without changing out of the clothes I wore, I climbed into bed and pulled the covers up as high as I could get them underneath my chin. Momma was still using sheets that she’d gotten from the hotel, and seeing them took me back to the time we were still living in the apartment, right before I’d been arrested. I thought about Javier, someone who’d not crossed my mind in a long time, and wondered where he’d been sent when they’d finally picked him up. I wondered if he’d gotten ten years too. Before long I was sound asleep, but I fitfully tossed and turned.

  After I awoke, I found the room was dark. I hadn’t realized I’d been asleep for so long. I sat up and realized I was soaking wet with sweat. What the hell had happened? Had I been dreaming?

  I remembered thinking about Javier and, well, that was about it. The more I tried to recall what I’d been dreaming about, the more it slipped away. It was just as well. Thinking about Javier only caused me to get angry, and it was probably a good thing he wasn’t around anymore.

  I tugged at th
e neck my shirt because it felt as if it was choking me. Everything I wore now had come from Ricky. The times he’d been around the house, I’d noticed his wardrobe was significantly nicer than what we’d had as kids.

  I got out of bed and walked to the door. I opened it just a bit to see the entire house was dark. It was even later than what I’d first thought. I couldn’t believe I’d slept the entire afternoon and evening away and no one had bothered to wake me for dinner. It made me kind of sad thinking about it, but I was sure Momma and the others thought I just needed time to myself. It had, after all, been overwhelming the last several days.

  I walked across the hall to the bathroom, careful not to wake anyone up. After I’d quietly closed the door behind me, I flipped on the light. The brightness stung my eyes, and I blinked a few times to focus. I couldn’t believe the reflection that stared back at me in the mirror. I was hardly recognizable.

  My hair had grown out even more, stopping just above my shoulders, and I thought about whether I should let it grow back long again or get it cut. I remembered Erica saying she liked it long and, well, if it meant being with her again, I’d grow it out as long as she wanted.

  Damn, to have her run her fingers through my hair again…

  I splashed cold water on my face, but I still didn’t feel like myself. Something felt off. Maybe because I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since earlier that morning. I filled the bathroom cup that sat next to the sink with water and took a couple swallows. The cool liquid felt good against my parched throat.

  I felt bad Diego hadn’t been able to sleep in his bed since I’d come back, but Momma had insisted he’d be fine and hadn’t minded. I’d enjoyed the privacy, but truthfully, I missed having someone to talk to.

  I walked back to the bedroom and pulled off my sweaty t-shirt. I sat on the side of the bed for a moment, just thinking about my life. Where I’d been and where I wanted to go. It was hard to believe that ten years had passed.

  When I’d first entered the prison system, I thought I’d never see the day I walked away a free man. Now, being out, I almost missed the daily routines and friends I’d made. I’d eventually adjust, but at the moment, I felt like a total stranger in my own home.

  Chapter Nineteen

  NEW YEAR’S EVE NIGHT I sat out on the porch and listened to the neighborhood kids shooting off bottle rockets. Momma was concerned they might wake Mama Camila up once she’d gone to bed, but so far, she’d been able to sleep right through.

  I remembered as a teenager watching the countdown to the new year on television. I’d always wanted to share that magical kiss with someone at the stroke of midnight, just to see what it was like. Maybe one day I’d be able to experience it with Erica.

  Once I was barely able to keep my eyes open, I got up and went inside. Momma and the girls sat on the floor, circled around the coffee table, putting together a jigsaw puzzle. The TV played in the background but surprisingly, no one paid any attention to what was on.

  I leaned down and kissed each one of them goodnight and wished them happiness for the upcoming year. They all found it strange that I hadn’t wanted to go out with Diego and his friends that night, but truthfully, I hadn’t wanted to be around anyone, except, of course, my family.

  I grabbed the phone from the counter and walked to the bedroom. If anyone noticed, they never bothered to say anything. By then, I’d memorized Erica’s number by heart. I punched in a few numbers, then cleared them off the screen. I’d done this so many times, and not once had I been able to complete a phone call to her. I wondered had she already given up on me? Was she out with friends on this special night?

  I shut my eyes, replaying in my mind some of the good times we’d shared, and eventually dozed off still tightly gripping the phone.

  Sometime later, a loud knock sounded on the door, and I sat straight up, uncertain if I’d been dreaming. The knock came again, this time followed by the sound of Momma’s voice.

  “Jaime,” she called out. “Jaime, wake up.”

  What was wrong with her? She almost sounded frantic.

  “Jaime.”

  I got up and opened the bedroom door. “Momma, what’s wrong?” I asked. I noticed she was crying, and I immediately tried to console her by wrapping my arms around her.

  “It’s Mama Camila,” she managed to say between sobs. “Come.”

  I walked with Momma to her bedroom. She had her own twin-size bed pushed up against one side of the room while Mama Camila slept in the other bed against the opposite wall. It was easier for Momma to tend to her needs by being just a few feet away from her.

  “I think she’s gone, Jaime. I think she’s no longer with us.” Momma’s sobs intensified.

  I leaned down and listened for her shallow breathing. The room was still. The only sound I heard was that of my own heart beating.

  I hadn’t experienced death before, and I wasn’t sure what was really happening at that moment. I squatted to get closer, but there was nothing coming from her. Mama Camila had passed peacefully in her sleep.

  Momma placed the 9-1-1 call while I stayed in the bedroom. I’d said lots of prayers over the years and I immediately sent one up, asking for serenity in our family. This would be difficult for my family since she’d lived with us for so long.

  There’d been no need for any sirens, thank goodness, but everyone in the neighborhood had gathered nearby to see what happened in our home when they’d seen the flashing lights of the ambulance. Surprisingly, Momma handled herself well, but it’d hit her later on.

  The sun had yet to come up, but that first day of the new year was one we’d remember for the rest of our lives. I hoped it wasn’t an indication of how the rest of the year would be.

  The following morning I accompanied Momma to the funeral home where we’d made arrangements for Mama Camila. I was thankful they were willing to work with her, and allowed her to set up a payment plan to cover the burial expenses, since it’d all happened so suddenly. Ricky said he’d help too, and it hadn’t set well with me, as an adult member of the family, that I didn’t have anything to contribute. Angry with my own self, I’d felt like punching a wall.

  I skipped my next counseling session due to the funeral, but was informed I’d have to double up the following week with the videos I’d been expected to watch. There was still no word on employment.

  The following day, Mama Camila was laid to rest in a tiny cemetery that was owned by the funeral home. Our family and a few of the neighbors attended. It was a small memorial service, but at least she was in a better place and hadn’t had to suffer.

  Eventually, I gave up looking for a job. Sadly, I moped around the house. I wasn’t even in the mood to watch television anymore.

  It wasn’t until the second week of January that I gathered enough courage to pick up the phone again. I don’t know what made me think I’d actually place the call that time. I hadn’t been able to up ‘til then, so what made that night any different?

  Momma had gotten a new phone a few days ago when her other one had suddenly stopped working. Most of the pay-as-you-go phones were the same, and the quality was just average. The screen lit up, and I punched in the numbers that were now imprinted in my brain. Before I hit the call button, I asked myself if I was ready. Was I ready to hear her voice again? Was I ready to answer her questions about why I’d taken so long to call? Was I ready to feel miserable all over again because I couldn’t give her the answers she deserved?

  I brought the phone up to my ear. It was now or never.

  I broke out in a cold sweat, and my handle trembled. Why did I think I could talk to her now?

  I listened as the phone rang and rang. I counted almost ten rings before I heard the click. At first, I thought she’d answered and I sucked in a deep breath, knowing I could hang up at any time. Then I heard the recording, her familiar voice sounding in my ears. I was mesmerized for a moment.

  When the phone beeped, I quickly gathered everything within me and spoke as normally
as I could into the phone. Funny how I hadn’t thought before then what I would even say if she had or hadn’t answered.

  “Hey, baby. It’s me. I know you’ve probably been worried about me, and I hope you didn’t think I’d forgotten about you. I’ve missed you so much, and I’ll just try to reach you later on. I—I still love you.”

  Had I just said that into the phone? Had I actually left her a message?

  I leaped from the bed, and the phone fell from my hand, hitting the floor with a thud. I barely made it to the bathroom before I lost everything I’d had to eat that day.

  Was I that stupid to think I was ready to have a conversation with her? Who was I kidding? Naturally, she’d ask me questions about how I’d been, had I found a job… Hell, screw the damn job! Who needed a fucking job, anyway?

  I opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out a bottle of pain reliever. I popped the top and poured out five or six pills into my hand. I didn’t care how many I took. I wanted some relief from all the heartache I felt. I wanted some relief from the pressure I’d endured from the rest of the world. Swallowing them without anything to drink, I stared at myself in the mirror. I was so ashamed of the man I’d become and the life I lived. I slid down to the floor and leaned my face against the side of the vanity.

  I must have passed out, because the next thing I knew, a cool hand pressed against my cheek, as though checking for a temperature. I slowly moved around on the floor, then reached up to rub my neck. My head pounded and sharp pains shot down my arms. I blinked several times until I could faintly see Momma’s image, kneeling beside me.

  She wasn’t able to offer me assistance in getting up from the floor, so I sort of maneuvered myself so I rested against the wall.

  “Jaime, what’s wrong?” I detected concern in her voice. She continued to feel the sides of my face and forehead. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been asleep.