In Between Men

by Mary Castillo

  Isa took her place at the tables with the mothers. After ordering pizzas and vats of soda, they settled down to discussing everything from clothes to babies to how much longer Jennifer Lopez would stay with her current husband. The men congregated at their end of the table, talking about everything they didn’t want their wives to overhear.

  The gender segregation was well and good when you wanted to get away from your spouse, but for a single mom who fussed over her outfit, her hair, and her nails, it was an exercise in frustration.

  Isa hadn’t budged from her place on the women’s side of the table, sneaking looks at Alex, who had only told her, “Nice shirt,” before getting monopolized by the men.

  She warred between pouting and all-out fear. She’d never pursued and she’d expected he’d get the hint and come to her. Except he hadn’t and she wasn’t completely sure if it was because of the men, or if he’d given up on her.

  “So what’s going on with you and Alex?” Lydia asked. Her son, Danny, had gone to Tiny Tots with Andrew. “Are you guys dating?”

  As the only divorced and nondating single mother, Isa realized the conversation turned to her. “No, we’re just friends.”

  The other mom, whose name Isa couldn’t remember, fanned her face with a menu. All night Isa hoped someone would use her name again. “I’m telling you if a man who looked like Alex looked at me? Hell, I’d leave my husband.”

  “Don’t you think Alex looks like that Freddie Prinze Jr?” Lydia asked.

  “Hmm, you’re right. But Alex isn’t skinny like him.”

  “I think he looks like Angel from Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” Aracely chimed in. She had been Tamara’s chief rival for homecoming queen.

  Their faces lit up and then whipped around to see if Alex was more Freddie than Angel. To Isa, he was perfectly Alex. In unison they turned back and leaned forward.

  “But seriously, Isa, you’ve gotta admit Alex is hot,” Lydia said, sipping her margarita.

  “Yeah, but…”

  “What?”

  “Alex is a good man,” the no-name mom said, as if Isa were completely transparent. “Lydia and I were just talking the other day that he’d make a good father to Andrew.”

  As if she’d been woken up in the middle of night by the smell of smoke, Isa realized she had been the topic of many secret conversations.

  “You need to do what’s right for you,” Lydia added. “And if you need anything…like us to have a sleepover?”

  They laughed like mob bosses bribing the mayor.

  “Oh-oh-oh! We could let the air out of your tire so he’d have to give you a ride home,” no-name mom said excitedly.

  “Men like it when they think you need them,” Aracely added, and the group nodded their heads sagely.

  “Whatever you need, you just ask one of us,” Lydia finished.

  Over the radio a commercial came on for Rock Hard in the Morning and on hearing Carlos’s name, a group in the back bar howled and cheered.

  The women pressed their lips into flat, disapproving lines. Isa sat there like a day-old balloon, soft and gushy with no more bounce or brilliance. She’d endure in silence, but not without drilling her nails into the palms of her hands.

  The commercial continued and everyone looked at her with pity and relief that their exes weren’t on the radio. But then a chair scooted out. Collectively, the room looked up and watched Alex stride to the jukebox. Conversation weakened as curiosity piqued and out over the speakers, a drum roll sounded followed by a guitar twang. John Lennon’s voice sang out, “Something in the way she moves…”

  Isa audibly sucked in her breath as the song lazily continued like a man taking his time with the woman he loved. Men were not yet aware of the charge that shot straight from Alex, who turned away from the jukebox, to Isa, who literally held onto the edge of her seat. But the women honed in on his declaration.

  Isa tingled in a way she hadn’t since she was fifteen. Mesmerized by Alex advancing on her, she was vaguely aware of the roll of chatter that rose up around them. He bypassed the guys who were slowly becoming aware that something was happening. Locked into his dark gaze, Isa held her breath until his hand claimed the back of the empty seat next to her.

  “How’s it going?”

  Lydia, no-name mom, and Aracely popped out of their seats. “We need more margaritas,” Lydia announced. “Isa, you stay here and hold our seats.”

  Something in the way Alex’s eyes glittered kept her right where she was.

  23

  WRITTEN ON THE WALL OF THE MEN’S ROOM AT NAPOLEANO’S

  Number of proposals in the dining room: 157 Of those proposals who were married: 100% So men, if you’re not sure, get her a beer.

  Alex sat with a long sigh, seemingly unaware that everyone would be talking about how he played Isa a love song on the jukebox at Napoleano’s. No one would be this excited since…well, nothing really exciting had happened in Sweetwater for a long time.

  But all Alex had to say was, “Good game, huh?”

  “What?” Isa managed.

  “The game. Andrew played pretty well.”

  What did Andrew or the game have anything to do with the Beatles serenading them from the jukebox?

  “So how’s Andrew doing?” Alex continued.

  “He’s great,” she said, pulling all the right words in the right order while she analyzed everything he hadn’t said. “Nothing like scoring three goals and a pizza party to pull a kid out of the dumps.”

  “Yeah I uh, I was afraid I might’ve overstepped with Carlos and—”

  “You’re his coach and his friend,” Isa insisted. “He probably wouldn’t have played or might’ve wanted to quit if you hadn’t stood up for him. So uh, thank you.”

  Alex looked floored. “I hope he stays. He’s good. Maybe he’ll be on a Wheaties box.”

  Isa gave up. She had no idea what just happened between Alex’s playing the song and him sitting here talking about her son growing up to be on some stupid cereal box.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she ground out as the song gave way to Nirvana’s “Teen Spirit.”

  His eyes lingered on the coy amount of cleavage her blouse allowed. “You look really nice tonight.”

  Took him long enough. “Thanks,” she murmured, her gaze falling to the floor.

  “I was—”

  “What are you two talking about down there?” Big Danny, Lydia’s husband and the assistant coach, bellowed from the other end of the table.

  “How ugly you are,” Alex shouted back.

  “Naw naw naw naw.” He fell on his elbows before he went face first into his beer. “You two’re talking about something serious.”

  “Lydia, I hope you’re driving tonight,” Alex shot back. “Looks like someone’s ready for bed.”

  The group made a long ohhhhh. “Good idea,” Isa murmured and Alex nearly broke his neck when his eyes shot back at her. Isa realized June was right: men were pretty basic. They didn’t get it unless you stripped off your top and sat in their laps.

  Big Danny stood at the head of the table, blinking his eyes as he tried to come up with something to toss back at Alex. Lydia appeared with a you-go-girl wink at Isa and unhooked her purse from the back of her chair. “Come on, papi. Take me home.”

  “What?”

  Everyone stood up making noises about the time and how they needed to go to church or Home Depot early tomorrow morning. The husbands formed a circle of their own while the wives pried children off the video games.

  Alex watched those bonds between husbands, wives, and children. He’d always seen them as yokes that brought responsibility and tied a person down from accomplishing important things. But for the first time he saw that those bonds gave you people to hold onto, to take care of.

  Even though this was the worst time imaginable, Alex wanted that security, the sense of place with Isa and Andrew. And when he heard that stupid commercial and the guys bleating in the bar, something dark and angry got
him out of his chair and to the jukebox. “Something” had been his mom’s favorite Beatles song. Every now and then she’d make Dad dance with her in the living room while he and his brothers and sisters pretended to be grossed out. He felt like the song could say something to Isa that he could never put into words by himself.

  He started when Isa stood up behind him and then he took her hand to keep her from walking away.

  In the center of the clamor for coats and purses, while the kids pleaded with moms for just one more game, Alex tried to put the indescribable into words. But he turned his hand under hers and she answered when their fingers threaded together.

  “Mom!” Andrew appeared at the table between them, his hair sweaty and his eyes high on soda and make-believe gunplay. “Danny said I could spend the night at his house. Can I?”

  “You don’t have any of your things,” Isa said, transforming from hot mama to mom in an instant.

  “That’s okay,” Lydia, Danny’s mom said, her eyes zeroing in on their joined hands. “He can borrow some of Danny’s clothes.”

  “I don’t want you to go—” Alex squeezed Isa’s hand and she shut up. “Are you sure?” Isa asked Lydia.

  “No problem. We’ll bring him home at eleven tomorrow, or—” Her eyes linked the two of them. “Later if you want.”

  “Okay.” She freed her hand from Alex’s hold and caught Andrew when he made for the door. “You do what Mrs. Alvarez tells you and you eat what she makes for breakfast, okay?”

  “Yeah, mom.” He leaned to give her a kiss, but remembered his buddies were around. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Good night, little man,” Alex added, but Andrew pulled away.

  Andrew didn’t answer back.

  Isa gave him what looked like an apology in her eyes and Alex knew he was spending another night alone. He had to be cool about this. Andrew was her son, he came first. While Alex knew those things intellectually, he felt the plunging disappointment that he’d come so close.

  “Good night. Love you,” Isa murmured to Andrew.

  Lowering his voice, Andrew said, “Love you, too.” He turned away and walked around the table rather than by Alex.

  Isa pressed her lips together.

  “I should get going,” he said, saving her the awkwardness of apologizing for Andrew.

  She hesitated and then nodded.

  He went to say good night to the rest of the parents, carrying an emptiness he’d never felt before.

  About an hour later Alex sat alone in his car and wondered if he missed something?

  He cycled the clues through his mind: the outfit, the flirting, and Andrew staying the night at Lydia’s house. But then there was the whole part where Andrew gave him the cold shoulder and Isa left Napoleano’s without him. Now he was parked across the street from her apartment.

  Alex was pretty certain that there was something between him and Isa. He’d made it pretty obvious with the song but not too obvious because she wasn’t comfortable with public displays of affection. And he thought she gave him the green light with the looks and the hand holding. He knew he hadn’t said anything wrong. Then again it could be something he hadn’t said.

  He should go walk across Isa’s street and knock on her door. No, he should call and pretend he wasn’t staking out her place. No, he should—

  If he called, what would he say? He could invite her to get an ice cream but he knew that at a quarter to eleven the only shop in town had already closed its doors.

  Alex stared straight ahead. The street appeared like a still frame as the fog diffused the lights and the houses stood dark while people slept or watched TVs in bed. He laughed, thinking of the crap he and his buddies pulled on these dark, quiet streets in high school: sticking fireworks in pumpkins on Halloween night, busting mailboxes apart with baseball bats, or toilet-papering cars that belonged to their buddies. That was some good stuff.

  He jumped when someone knocked on his window. Holding a thick sweater up around her chin, Isa circled her fist for him to roll down his window.

  “What are you doing out here?” he asked when he got the window down.

  “Shouldn’t I be asking that question?”

  “Yeah I was thinking that uh, maybe you’d like to get something to eat, I mean some ice cream or something.”

  “It’s almost eleven.”

  “I know.”

  She stepped closer to the window and Alex laughed at himself, feeling like that stupid kid he’d once been who blew up pumpkins and destroyed mailboxes for fun.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked.

  “I uh, I don’t know what I’m doing here,” he confessed. “I mean with Andrew mad at me and—I’m really screwing this up, aren’t I?”

  She shook her head, that serene smile never leaving her face. “I’m scared too.”

  “Of what? Me?”

  “Of making a mistake.” Her eyes faltered, but after a moment she looked back up at him. “But I’m even more scared of losing what I want.”

  “Me too,” he told her.

  She took in a deep breath, gathering all of her courage and it made him swell with pride that she was doing it for him. “Do you want me to tell you what you’re going to do next?” She said it in such a way that excited male fantasies of porno-style sex.

  But this was Isa. They’d already had porno sex in the backseat of this very car and now they were facing each other honestly about what they were intending to do. He wanted this second time to be what the first time should’ve been.

  Isa leaned forward, smoothing her hand over his cheek and moving in for a kiss. “Isa, wait,” Alex said.

  She froze. “For what?”

  “Let’s go inside.”

  “No one will see us.”

  “I’d rather go inside.”

  Isa’s fingers felt good moving through his hair. “Do you not want to do this?”

  “Yeah—”

  She shocked him by striking out and taking his lips. He groaned as the heat of her moved under his skin and wound its way to the very heart of him. He tasted mint and the warmth of her tongue, slightly sucking it into his mouth until she shot up to her tiptoes.

  “You like that?” he whispered against her cheek.

  “Do it again.”

  He reached down and unbuckled his seatbelt to get out of the car and take her across the street and into her apartment where he could lay her out on her bed and—

  “Are you in your nightgown?” he asked, looking down at her bare legs and her feet shoved into a pair of black flats.

  She opened her sweater to reveal the top of a white cotton nightgown. He dropped his keys twice in his struggle to get out of the car and slammed the door so hard, the sound ricocheted down the street.

  Taking her hand, they ran across the street, the misty cold feeling good against his hot face. She stole ahead of him, flashing her sweater open and laughing when his toe caught on one of the uneven bricks.

  “I’m going to get you,” he threatened, chasing her up to the door and catching her around the waist when she shoved it open.

  They spilled into her small foyer and he kicked the door shut. Spinning her to face him, he ripped the sweater open and took her mouth mid-laugh, making love to her tongue while he peeled the sweater sleeves off her arms.

  His breath went shaky in his chest and he told himself to slow down but that cautionary voice faded away as his need to touch, taste, and see all of Isa swelled. Her nails scraped against his sides, sending shivers over his skin as she balled his shirt in her hands and tugged him towards her. She broke the kiss, smiling up into his eyes with the most beautiful smile on her face.

  Getting down on his knees he buried his nose in between her breasts, inhaling the scent of Hawaiian flowers. Did she choose this lotion for him? Had she rubbed it into her skin, still wet and hot from her shower, imagining his hands greedy to touch and his tongue eager to taste?

  He eased his hands up the sides of her body, dipping at her waist
and then spreading against the sides of her breasts and up the soft slope to the top of her shoulders. Hooking his fingers under the straps and slowly riding them down her arms, teasing them both by stopping just over her breasts and then pulling it so they came free.

  “Alex,” she whispered.

  His heart thundered all the way to his throat, but he looked up from her bare breasts to her face. She swallowed, and out of the corner of his eyes her hands moved to cover herself.

  “What?” he asked, gently stopping them and pressing a kiss against her wrist.

  “I want you naked, too.”

  Her frankness shocked him. “How much?”

  With everything she had. Unlike her body, his was athletic, sculpted and shaped by sweat and exertion. Alex quickly unbuttoned his shirt and then hiked it over his head. Her mouth watered, taking in his solid torso and the green plaid boxers that peeked up from the waistband of his jeans.

  Shoes were off and then he pulled everything down so all he had on were the lights.

  “Not bad,” she said, watching him harden under her admiring eyes.

  He got back to his knees and snuggled against her breasts.

  “Hmm,” she hummed, stroking his hair and then whispering all the places of his that she wanted to feel and kiss. Alex breathed in strongly, nuzzling one breast with his cheek.

  “Kiss me,” she said, fisting her hand in his hair.

  His eye strayed up and his mouth quirked into a grin. But his tongue flicked out and tasted the underside of her breast. “Unh-uh.”

  He sucked her nipple into his mouth and she sank against the wall. His mouth worked as if he could swallow her whole.

  He took her other breast, humming warmly against her skin. With his free hand he tried to work down the rest of her nightgown. She caught it. “No,” she said, feeling more powerful with each breath. He looked up at her, planting kisses around her tight nipple.

  Feeling bold and wild, she lifted her dress up, ticking him with the eyelet hem, and then draped it over his head. “Oh, man,” he murmured, edging forward and parting her knees. “Your skin is so soft.”