by Mara White
“Um, yeah. Don’t you think an occasion like this calls for it? Maybe even screams for it?”
“Maybe in Cali, Sar, but I’m out on bail – they could drug test me!”
“Shit. I forgot. And I thought you’d have the sweet hook-up now too. Fucking craptastic, Great! Don’t ruin my girl’s weekend before it even gets started.”
“Sar, I thought you were coming out to console me not get me re-arrested.”
“Oh yeah. I’m the big risk taker,” she insinuates. “Me! You’re the one getting laid by some twenty-two-year-old Don Juan drug lord. Whore!” She whispers loudly in my ear.
This time I drop her hand and hit her in the arm.
“Stop talking smack, the kids can hear us!” I can’t wipe the grin from my face long enough to sound serious.
“Jezebel!” She whisper-shouts. “Meanwhile I’m washing forty-two stinking pairs of underwear and eighty-four, smelly, filthy socks per week. And that’s when no one craps their pants.”
“You count?”
“You bet. How about trollop? No one even knows what that means.”
“No! Sea slut,” I say under my breath.
“Strumpet?”
“Sarah!”
“I can’t believe I’m smoking a cigarette. It’s got to have been at least twenty years.”
“You’re being reborn, it’s your rite of passage.”
Sarah and I powered through four bottles of Malbec after dinner and now we’re on the back deck, swinging on the porch swing and smoking. Robert is still at work and Carmen is staying late to take care of the kids.
“What’s that?” Sarah says reaching out to grab the platinum necklace I’m wearing that’s entangled with a red string.
“What, this?” I say looking down and lifting them both up.
“Uh-uh.”
“Robert gave me this,” I say pulling the diamond necklace forward. “And Jaylee gave me this.” I try to separate the red string of the scapular from the platinum necklace. “It’s the flag and the patron saint of DR. His dad wore the same thing.”
“And you wear them both at the same time?”
“Well, I am fucking them both at the same time.”
Sarah snorts hard trying to contain the wine in her mouth and chokes, spraying it all over us. She’s doubled over laughing and snorting and coughing on the aspirated wine.
“Oh, God that burns. Oh my God! Don’t make me laugh with my mouth full. You’re not really fucking Jaylee anymore are you?”
“No,” I say and bury my face in my hands. “I wish I were. I would.”
“Don’t you think those necklaces are highly symbolic?”
“Why? Because one is made of cloth and string and the other is the hardest metal known to man? Jaylee is fleeting while Robert is steadfast, is that what you think? Oooh, Sarah, you’re deep when you’re drunk.”
“And you aren’t? Speaking of hard, who has a better cock?”
“Nooooo! I’m not talking about penises with you!”
“Jaylee does, you already answered it,” She says with a huge grin plastered across her face.
“How? Oh my God, Sarah! I swear. I didn’t even say anything!”
“Jaylee’s is better,” she says but the laugh catches her halfway through and she’s doubled over again. This time it gets me too and I’m laughing so hard that tears are squeezing out the corners of my eyes.
That’s, of course, when Carmen walks out to tell us the kids are asleep and she’s leaving for the day.
“Señora Kate?” she says.
I stand and flick my cigarette over the deck into the yard. Carmen’s eyes follow it confused. She eyes me and then Sarah, looking back and forth between the two of us. Sarah starts laughing again. This time it’s a suffocated gagging sound because she’s trying so hard to hold it in. I can’t help but start up again as well.
“No fumamos, Carmen!” Sarah says.
“What are you talking about?” I ask wiping away the tears.
“Poor Carmen probably thinks we smoked pot, Great.”
“Sar, she speaks English!” I say and the laugh is attacking me again. “Carmen, it’s just cigarettes and wine, I promise. A lot of wine.”
“You don’t need to explain, Señora Kate. You’ve been smiling a lot, yesterday and today. It’s nice to see you happy again. You two have fun.”
“We will. Thanks for everything, Carmen.”
I smack Sarah playfully on the arm as Carmen goes back inside the house.
“Look, you got us in trouble. Want more wine?”
“Hell yeah.” Sarah and I stumble into the kitchen.
“What time does Robert get home?”
“Around midnight depending on what he’s working on. Why? Want to switch to white or will that make us sick?”
“I want to go to the deli.”
“The deli, what for?”
“I don’t know, isn’t that what you New Yorkers do?” Sarah says rummaging around in the pantry.
“You want to score pot. Fuck you! You’re unbelievable, Sarah.”
“Oh yeah, me again. I only want to smoke it. You just got arrested for drug trafficking, Señora Kate, so STFU,” she says coming out of the pantry with a bottle of brandy, two snifters and a huge smile. “I want pot and salt and vinegar chips. You don’t have any. I checked.”
We make our way into the living room and settle onto the couch. Sarah dings her snifter against mine and gulps back half the glass. I take a tiny sip.
“So what’s the verdict, Great. You really think Bobby sold you out to the Feds?”
“Maybe. I’m sure he covered his tracks so I’ll never know. I’ll always wonder though.”
“That sounds like you’re staying.”
“I don’t have a choice, Sarah. I have to stay.”
“Do you love him?”
“Jaylee?” I ask. Sarah nods her head solemnly, her eyes wide. “I’m in love with him, Sarah. I’d do anything for him. I don’t even regret any of the stupid shit I’ve already done. I’d do it again.”
“Not that I want to give you advice, Great, but you should just go and be with him. We only get one chance.”
“That’s the wine talking. First of all, he’s going to jail. Second, part of not being with him is an expression of my love for him. I love him enough to stay away. I know he deserves more than I can give him. He’s got his whole fucking life ahead of him. I’d just be holding him back.”
“That’s not fair to him, Great. He’s young but he’s man enough to make his own decisions. You should let him decide it he wants to be with you. You can’t just make a decision like that for him.”
“It’s over, Sarah. And I have a huge, gaping hole in my heart.”
“I wish I could meet him.”
“I wish you could too.”
CHAPTER 22
Sarah and I take the kids to a local diner and attempt to eat away last night’s alcohol binge. We each down a plate of eggs benedict with greasy hash-browns and orange juice.
The girls get chocolate chip pancakes and douse them in syrup and whipped cream. Joshua eats the Lumberjack Special and drinks two glasses of chocolate milk in addition to finishing the remainder of everyone else’s dishes. Pearl is thrilled, telling me ‘I told you so’s about how much teenage boys can eat. She’s an expert.
“Did you even hear Robert come in last night?” Sarah asks.
“No, I was completely out.”
“Did you see him this morning?”
“Yeah, barely. He kissed me goodbye and said we were ‘regressing nicely’.” I smile at Sarah over our food.
“Hah,” Sarah scoffs. “He hasn’t seen anything yet. Wait till we get some guys up in here!” Sarah says pop-locking her chest in and out like the “Push It” video from Salt-n-Pepa.
“God, Mom! Stop!” Joshua says throwing a French fry at her and landing it squarely between her eyes.
Sarah picks it up and eats it in one bite.
“Too bad we had ki
ds Great, they ruin everything,” she says looking straight at Joshua and chewing aggressively.
“Mom, face it, you’re a has-been. Look at your moves. It’s not 1992! Yo MTV Raps isn’t on anymore. Friends is over,” Joshua taunts.
“Joshy, watch out. I gave birth to you. Besides, Friends isn’t even my generation, for your information. Smart aleck!” Sarah pop-locks her chest again pumping her fists this time and Pearl and Ada giggle, loving the exchange.
“Great, pretty soon Pearl and Ada will be cooler than you too. Trust me, it sucks.” She playfully kicks Joshua under the table and he throws another fry at her. Sarah ducks and it hits the diner in the next booth, causing all five of us to lose it laughing.
We push the couches aside in the living room and Sarah plugs in her iPod and starts playing songs from our college days. She promises to show Joshua her moves but he opts out, unable to take any more of her antics, and goes downstairs to the den to watch a movie. Neither of us has showered and we’re both wearing sweats. Ada is upstairs napping and Pearl has put on her tiger costume from last year’s Halloween. She’s shaking her hips as she simultaneously twirls the long cotton stuffed tail around. Sarah made us Bloody Marys insisting they would cure our hangovers, but all I can manage is to eat the pickles and olives out of mine.
“Mom, can we do the washing machine dance, like in the Selena movie?” Pearl asks.
I stop the iPod and tune the radio to 93.1 Amor to see if maybe we can catch some Cumbia. We make it through some mandatory Juanes songs and some overly sentimental Maná with Sarah protesting the entire time. After an inordinate amount of fast-talking commercials Celia Cruz’s La vida es un carnaval comes on and Pearl screams. She knows this one. Sarah groans and gulps her Bloody Mary.
Pearl and I dance some Cumbia and she works it just like I taught her, swiveling her hips and keeping to the beat. We take it low and Pearl puts her hands on the ground to keep from falling over. She reaches the bottom and rolls under the coffee table laughing. I finish the song solo, doing some quick salsa turns to show off. Sarah starts tossing the throw pillows at me.
Sarah sits up abruptly and clears her throat. I look up at her. She’s got a strange look on her face and she’s staring over my shoulder. She clears her throat again and raises one eyebrow. I’m scared to turn around. Sarah juts her chin forward, encouraging me. I can’t make myself turn around. My body knows who it is. I have a sixth sense for him.
“What, you don’t lock? And you, you don’t knock?” She says, directing the first part at me and the latter at Jaylee.
“He knows the code,” I whisper. I don’t know why I’m whispering.
I turn around on a long exhale and take him in. He’s wearing a sweatshirt with the hood up. His expression is mischievous, testing. He’s got on his usual low-slung jeans and clean sneakers but now there’s a visible ankle monitor that’s too large to be hidden by his pant leg.
He takes me in first, head to toe and then back up again. I’m in my old gray sweats and white V-neck t-shirt, no makeup, sweaty, and hung over as hell. I reach up to try and fix my messy ponytail. Jaylee drinks me in as if I were dressed to kill, as if every inch of me were desirable. I feel beautiful and powerful under his gaze and I’m completely drunk on the connection between us.
A smile starts to spark behind his eyes and then engulfs his entire face. It’s a million dollar smile, one that could break a million hearts. But it belongs to me and I helplessly and hopelessly belong to him.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi,” I whisper back, my voice caught in my throat.
I smile at him, a grin so wide that it hurts my face. We pass a few moments like that, standing still, overcome by one another’s presence.
Pearl breaks it. She’s upset that he’s here. She runs past him and up the stairs retreating to her room. I don’t blame her at all. What’s she supposed to think? I move to go after her and Jaylee puts his hand out.
“I got it. It’s my fault. I’ll go. Robert isn’t . . .?”
I shake my head no. I’m surprised he wants to go. I’m not sure how to answer. “Only if it’s okay with Pearl.”
Jaylee nods. His expression tells me that he understands my hesitation and he follows her up the stairs.
“What the hell? That’s big. He’s only twenty-two, right?” Sarah says.
I nod.
“Twenty- three!” Jaylee says already having stepped out of our line of sight.
“Does he always just let himself in like that? Doesn’t he tell you when he’s coming? What if Robert were here?”
“I threw my phone away, and he doesn’t have my new number. Are you mad, Sarah?” I’m afraid that she’s disappointed in me, in Jaylee. He looks too young in a hoodie. I feel like I desperately need her approval.
“No, Great, I’m not mad. Just worried. That was intense. Just give me a second to recover. You sure it’s okay he goes after Pearl?”
I nod my head. I walk over to the stereo and turn down the music.
“What are you going to do? What about therapy?” Sarah asks me.
“What happened to ‘just go for it, and you only get one chance’, Sarah?”
“I don’t know. It all seems too real now. He’s real. And Great, he’s obviously in love with you.”
Heat pours out from my core into my limbs when she says it.
“I’m going to go upstairs and check on Pearl,” I say.
“I’m going to stay right here.”
“Promise me you’re not mad.”
“I’m not mad, you whore, just jealous.” Sarah smiles teasingly at me and I can tell that I have her back on my side.
In Pearl’s room Jaylee is giving my baby tiger a bear hug.
“Okay?” he says.
“Okay,” Pearl nods.
He puts her down and then winks at me and leaves us alone.
“You okay, Perla?”
“Yeah, he’s not supposed to be here.” She looks conflicted and rushes into my arms.
“It’s okay, baby. What did Jaylee say?” I ask her. It’s not that I don’t trust him but I want to protect her feelings.
“He said not to worry about you and Dad getting a divorce. He said he talked to Dad at the hospital. He just came to say goodbye because he loves us and he has to go to jail,”
I cradle her in my arms and pet her hair. Pearl cries into my shoulder.
“I don’t want him to go to jail.”
“I know, sweetie, me neither.”
“Is he going forever? Mom, I love Jaylee. Don’t tell Dad I said that.”
“Oh, Jesus, Pearl. Don’t feel bad. Jaylee’s an easy person to love. It’s okay that you do.”
“Are you gonna say goodbye to him?”
I nod my head ‘yes’ and bring my hand to my mouth to try to quell the tears.
“Is Aunt Sarah gonna watch us?”
“Yeah.” I hug Pearl and get only halfway down the stairs before I hear Sarah giggling.
I watch over the banister as Jaylee lifts up his foot with the ankle monitor onto the coffee table explaining something to her. He mimics kicking with that leg and Sarah’s laugh is full-on this time. He continues gesticulating, reaching out with ease and touching Sarah’s forearm. She tips her head back with laughter at whatever he’s said.
I grin ear-to-ear, not only at Jaylee’s magical charm but also with great relief that it works on my scrupulous best friend.
“He’s cute and funny,” Sarah says as I approach them.
Jaylee reaches out and clasps my hand.
“I couldn’t fucking stay away,” he says, sounding apologetic.
“Apparently not,” Sarah offers.
The familiar buzz resurfaces in my body with his touch. He means for it to be casual but the effect is staggering on the both of us. He pulls me closer. We can’t feign levity. He maneuvers me in front of his body, his arms quickly encircle my waist. My hands fly up to his biceps and I press my back against him to decrease the space between us. He kisses
my hair and my ear then nuzzles his face into my neck.
“Okay, get out!” Sarah shouts, uncomfortable with our clinging, the heavy air between us.
“Amiga!” Jaylee says as he reaches out to shake Sarah’s hand. Their hands clap first, their thumbs cross and he offers her a power punch. Sarah doesn’t miss a beat. She hangs with professional surfers.
“I’ll only be an hour or so,” I say apologetically.
“Stay away forever! I’m gonna drink more Bloody Marys and eat chips with dip. Dip, Great, by the spoonful.”
“Sarah’s on a debauchery mission. She doesn’t get away from the kids too often,” I explain to Jaylee. “I think she’s trying to compete with my record, now that I have one, even though she’d never admit it.”
“Good luck, Sarah,” Jaylee says. “I don’t know if you heard, but Kate’s straight up gangsta now.”
“Speaking of that, Jaylee, would you happen to know where I could –”
“Oh my God, Sarah!” I say cutting her off. “He’s out on bail. Give it a rest!” I pull Jaylee toward the door and he looks back and forth between the two of us, amused with our banter. He shrugs his shoulders and gestures to me pulling him.
“Bye, Sarah!” he says and then throws her his two fingered salute.
CHAPTER 23
Jaylee knows everyone: every person on the street, those hanging outside of the deli, everyone inside the deli, from the Jordanian owners to the Mexicans working behind the counter. He greets the señoras with cordial kisses on the cheek and to his peers, an intricate handshake, a flashed hand sign, or even a whistle.
I, on the other hand, am an outsider. We’re in my neighborhood and while I recognize a few faces, I am the other. Jaylee guides me with a hand held tightly to my hip. When he stops to talk to people he introduces me as mi mujer. I like the way it sounds, I love the way it makes me feel. I love it so much I want to hear him say it again and again.
When he speaks to me it’s in low, intimate tones that reflect something new in the way he feels about me. It’s loyalty and confidence. We are no longer a mismatched pair trying to fit together. We’re partners and quite literally accomplices. I put my life on the line for him. He knows it well and it conveys a message beyond desire and perhaps, beyond love. We’re bound to one another.