Just Because of You

by Gianna Gabriela

  “That right there, that’s how I know you still love him,” Emely says, pointing at me. I guess the hope I feel internally can be seen externally as well.

  “I thought you didn’t like him,” I tell her, smiling.

  “I didn’t think he was good enough for you,” she says and I want to jump and defend him like I did every time someone dared to say something bad about him. “Maybe it’s the fact that he’s got a daughter now or something… but I think he’s different now, better.”

  I’m a little jealous that my best friend sounds like she knows more about Christian than I do. I don’t say anything though because I would know more about him too if I had just let him talk to me. If I didn’t shut him and his efforts to tell me the truth down for weeks. If I hadn’t ignored his every call this week. Then again, if anyone had suffered as much as I had, they wouldn’t blame me.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “He just sounds different. Then again, maybe I just didn’t know him well enough back then. It was really self-less of him to love you enough to give you up back in high school.”

  “You think that was the best choice?” I ask without any bitterness behind my voice, just curiosity.

  “From your perspective, seeing you cry for longer than I thought was humanly possible, I’d say no. But from his perspective, taking in his reasons, I think it was the thing he thought made the most sense.”

  “So what do you think now?” I ask, wondering what her perspective would be.

  “I don’t believe very much in fate, but I think you ended up back here for a reason. You could’ve gotten a millions jobs. Worked at a different school. But you ended up back home. Ended up the principal of his child’s school. The first kid who came into your office was his daughter. The first parent you saw was him. That’s too many things coming together to count as coincidence.”

  “Are you saying what I think you are?” I ask, unable to stop myself from dreaming with her.

  “I think maybe the timing wasn’t right the first time around. Maybe the two of you needed to grow. I don’t believe in love or any of that shit, you know this, but the two of you… I don’t see how that’s anything other than meant to be.”

  “Who are you and what did you do to my best friend?” I ask, trying to hold back the tears.

  “I know, I’m scaring myself here spewing out all this love crap. Look what you do to me!” she jokes and that makes me laugh.

  Emely’s right. Whatever it is, whatever the reason I’m here and Christian never left… I can’t help but think that maybe there’s more to it. We each made our choices back then, the question is, what choices will we make now?

  26

  AMARI

  We walk into the gymnasium, which has been turned into a ballroom. Literally. The teachers in charge of this dance really went all out with the décor. It feels like I’ve turned back in time and walked into my high school prom. That was a good time.

  I remember thinking about how I was going to have to convince Christian to go with me. Aside from playing football, which came with limelight, he wasn’t really into making public appearances. He stopped going to parties and didn’t really like associating with the rest of the class. He thought most of them were morons.

  I remember talking to Emely about how to get him to ask me. The funny thing was I didn’t have to convince him. He was going to ask me to go with him all on his own. He knew I wanted to go and the Christian I knew then did anything in his power to make me happy. He’d do anything for me, my mind reminds me of a truth I’ve always known.

  “Girl, is this a kid’s dance or freaking prom?” Emely asks, a cup of punch already in her hands.

  “When did you get that?” I ask, pointing at the red cup in her hand.

  “You did that thing where you look like you’re waaaay into your thoughts, so I stepped away and grabbed it,” she replies. “Did you want some?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “All good, thanks.”

  “Back to this dance… what kind of budget are y’all working with?” she says, turning around and taking it all in.

  “Clearly we’ve gone way over budget,” I tell her. That’s the only way we could’ve afforded to transform this gym.

  “No we haven’t,” Ms. Nichols says, stepping next to me. “We managed to do all this and stay under budget. Aren’t you proud?” she asks, a big smile on her face as she wears a dress that doesn’t seem appropriate for a kid’s dance.

  “Of course,” I respond with a smile on my face that isn’t very genuine, but I’m hoping she can’t tell. I know for a fact we didn’t stay within budget, I mean the DJ was enough to push us out of it.

  “I can’t wait for the party to start,” she replies, clapping her hands. “Ohh, gotta go!” She says when she sees Ms. Riley across the room with two cups in her hand.

  “Do you think they spiked their drinks?” Emely asks, putting my thoughts into words.

  “Let’s hope not.” I have no idea what these dances are like and the last thing I need are drunk teachers.

  “So all this within budget, huh?”

  “Absolutely not. I told you how much we’re paying for a DJ right?” I ask.

  “I would’ve done it for half the price,” Emely says, laughing.

  “I would’ve just put a playlist on my phone and blasted it,” I tell her.

  “That would consist of what? Your music taste is terrible,” my best friend teases.

  I bring my hand to my heart. “Ouch!”

  She shrugs. “We said no lies. So, I’m being honest. Your playlist only consists of songs from like the early 2000s.”

  “That’s when music was at its best,” I reply unapologetically.

  Emely takes a sip of her drink. “You’re living in the past.”

  I liked it better there anyway, I want to reply, but I don’t, pity party’s over. “Nothing wrong with that,” I say instead.

  “Did you see her dress?” Emely asks, changing the subject.

  I look around hoping no one heard her. “Dude, calm down before you get all the teachers mad at me. I’m trying to make them like me not think I’m judging them.”

  “It’s a father-daughter dance right?” she asks.

  “Yeah,” I reply.

  “Maybe there are a lot of single fathers at your school and that’s the reason for the dress,” Emely says.

  I never thought about the excitement surrounding this dance being nothing more than the desire to let loose and let the kids have fun. Then again, it wouldn’t be completely out of mind to think that Ms. Riley, Ms. Nichols, and Ms. Costa would wear their best outfits on a day where most of the men from town will be here.

  Oh crap.

  Christian is a parent in this town. It’s not the first time I thought about him being at this dance, but dances have never been his thing. Then again, he’d do anything for his little girl. I’m sure he’d go to a dance for her, just like he did for me back then.

  He’s a sexy single father. The voice in the back of my head says and I grab hold of Emely’s hand. “I need some punch,” I tell her.

  “You know it doesn’t really have any alcohol in it,” she says with disappointment in her voice as I drag her to the snacks table. “I have some alcohol in my purse, if you want I can add a few drops to your drink,” she adds.

  I stop in my tracks, turn around, and pin her with a stare. “You brought alcohol?!” I whisper-yell.

  “You brought me to a kid’s party… I figured I’d bring it in case I needed something to get me through it.”

  “Don’t make me regret inviting you,” I tell her, trying to be the adult. Truth is, I would definitely feel more relaxed with some alcohol in my hand and better yet if it were already in my body. Pre-gaming this would’ve been awesome. That would never happen though, that’s not the way to leave a good impression. It’s the first time I’ll meet the parents, even if only the fathers, so I need to be on my best behavior and my best friend does too.

 
; “You’re no fun.”

  “Promise you won’t drink,” I tell her.

  She gives me a pouty face and I don’t react. “Fine. But you should be more worried about them,” she says, pointing at the three teachers who are in charge of making sure this dance runs smoothly.

  “I hope I don’t have to worry about them… I wouldn’t even know how to go about correcting them.”

  “You’re the boss, but if you need any help, I got you.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, no thank you.” We keep walking and reach the table. I pour some punch into my cup and Emely and I appreciate the peace of a mostly empty gymnasium. We watch as the DJ sets up and teachers run around getting the last things in order. I stand by ready to do whatever is asked of me, but as time passes it seems that no one needs my help.

  Emely and I move toward the bleachers and take a seat. We chat away as we wait for the parents and students to pour in. I half listen to whatever Emely is saying as I look at the main door behind her. I know I’m supposed to be angry with him. I’m supposed to be over him. But I’m not. Right now, I’m just anxiously waiting for him and his daughter to walk through those doors.

  CHRISTIAN

  “Smile,” my mother instructs as she points the camera in our faces. I smile while kneeling down next to Ari. We’re getting ready to head to the father-daughter dance, which means it’s been two days since I left Amari standing at her doorstep thinking about my answer. I want you.

  “This reminds me of your prom pictures,” mom says, reminiscing. I smile when the memory resurfaces. My mom was the only parent who knew back then about Amari and me dating. I didn’t want her parents to know because I knew the moment they saw me, the moment they knew about my reputation, they’d force her to stop seeing me. It was the right move for any parent, I’d do the same if my daughter would ever think about dating a guy like the one I was, but I loved Amari. I didn’t want us to be pulled apart… not after we gravitated toward each other like magnets.

  “Is that the same camera you used back then?” I ask, trying to inject some humor into this conversation.

  She looks at the camera then laughs. “It absolutely is!” It’s one of those old cameras that you have to take to the pharmacy to print out your photos. I wonder if the pharmacies still do that.

  “Could you take a couple with my phone just so that we have a backup plan?” I would hate for all the pictures to get lost.

  “A back up plan for what?” she asks, baffled.

  “In case that dinosaur of a camera fails. I want to make sure Ari and I have these photos,” I tell her, pulling my phone out of my tuxedo pocket and handing it over to her. This is only the second time ever I’ve worn a tux, but the occasion required it, at least that’s what my mom and Ari said.

  “Dad, can we hurry up, I don’t want to be late!” Ari says with her hands on my cheek as she turns me to face her.

  “Absolutely. Grandma! You get one shot,” I tell Mom.

  “No pressure!” She replies.

  Ari laughs, the camera clicks, and the moment is captured forever. “Daddy,” Ari says as I rise from my kneeling position.

  “Yes sweetheart?” I respond, my eyes fixed on her.

  “Thanks for coming to this dance with me,” she tells me and I lift her up in my arms. “Be careful with my dress!” she warns.

  “I’ll be careful,” I tell her then give her a kiss on the cheek. “It’s the father-daughter dance, as your dad, it’s kind of a requirement that I go.” Not that I’d miss this for the world.

  “Some of the students don’t have daddies, just like I don’t have a mother,” my ever-smart daughter tells me and her words sober me up.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her, not knowing what else to say to justify her mother’s absence. The reality is that she should be here sharing all these moments with her daughter. It should be her taking the photos instead of my mother. She’s probably taking many photos of her latest adventures, forgetting her daughter even exists. I haven’t heard from her since the last time she called and Ari overheard.

  “Don’t be sorry, Dad. If she wanted to be here, she would be.” My daughter’s words once again surprise me. She’s mature beyond her years. “Can I ask you a favor?” she adds and I wonder what she’ll say next.

  “Anything for you,” I tell her, meaning every word.

  “If there’s anyone at the dance whose father isn’t there or who’s sad, could you dance with them?”

  I smile at the little girl in my arms. “You just point them out to me and I’ll see what I can do. I don’t have the best moves, but I’m sure they’ll suffice,” I tell her, breaking out into the craziest and most uncoordinated dance routine with her in tow.

  She laughs and laughs, which only makes me dance even crazier. My daughter’s carefree laughter reminds me that I didn’t screw it all up. “Gotta make sure we ask permission before you start dancing with anyone,” she tells me.

  “That’s true. You just point them out to me and I’ll ask permission,” I assure her, setting her down.

  “Okay, will do. But Dad…”

  “Yes?”

  “First and last dances are mine,” she says, her hand in mine.

  “Always, baby girl.”

  My mother clears her throat and I notice the tears in her eyes. “As moving as this is, you both need to get going before you’re late.”

  “Grandma, are you crying?” Ari asks, perceptive as ever.

  My mother nods as she wipes at the tears of pure joy. “I just… I’m really proud of the both of you.”

  I look at Ari and she looks back at me. Winking at her, I give her the signal and we both run over to my mother and trap her in a group hug.

  “We love you, Grandma,” Ari says.

  “More than you know,” I add.

  “I love you both so much, my heart is full when I get to witness moments like this.” We release my mother and her hand comes up to my cheek. “I’m proud of the man you’ve become.” I take in her words and gotta admit I agree with her. There’s a lot more for me to do, but I’m proud of the path I’ve taken. Statistically, things could’ve gone a lot differently for me.

  “Okay okay, we really gotta go now!” Ari says, breaking up the moment.

  I extend my hand toward her and bow like I’m met with royalty, she’s my princess. Ari giggles at my antics then takes my hand. We walk toward the car and head to the school.

  27

  AMARI

  “Amari, Are you okay?” Emely asks, approaching me as I come out of the stall in the women’s bathroom.

  I nod wiping at the tears that stream down my face. “Yeah, I’m good,” I tell her, knowing that couldn’t be further from the truth. She knows that too.

  “Why are you crying?” she asks, closing the distance.

  I shrug.

  “You know why you’re crying,” she says knowingly.

  I do know. I’m just nostalgic. “Have you seen him?” I ask, knowing that the question is pointless. Of course she’s seen him. He’s the best looking guy here.

  “Duh. How could I miss him? He’s been gravitating toward you since the moment he walked in. Hasn’t stopped looking back and forth between his daughter and you.”

  I’ve been watching him and his daughter since they arrived. When he walked in through the doors, it was hard for me to miss him. He was wearing a tuxedo, like he did back at prom. Except he looks even better now than he did back then, which I didn’t think was possible. His daughter held his hand while wearing a tiara and a pink dress. It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen and something hit me straight in the chest. It took only seconds to realize what that emotion was, it was a feeling of loss. I saw them and saw a future I could’ve been a part of and suddenly I felt empty. I had to run to the bathroom to stop myself from crying in the middle of the gym.

  “It’s just…” I start.

  “You wish it was your family?” Emely adds for me and I nod. I don’t know who the little girl’s mother is, and
I now know she’s not in the picture, but I wish like nothing else that it had been me. That I was her mom and he was my husband and we raised our family together. I would’ve loved to have that happily ever after.

  “I wish…” I start and the moment I open my mouth my tears follow.

  Emely closes the distance and embraces me. “Let it out and then pick yourself up. You gotta get back out there,” she says, running her hand through my hair, comforting me like she has many times before.

  I clear my throat after a few seconds. “Alright.”

  “Are you ready?” She asks me.

  “Let me fix myself really quickly then I’ll be good to go!” I tell her. I look in the mirror and try to do my best to fix the makeup I’ve ruined with tears.

  I finish cleaning up my makeup and wash my hands. Emely’s phone rings and I watch her pull it out of her boob area.

  “Seriously?” I shake my head at her.

  “I didn’t bring a purse,” she says, like that’s a reasonable explanation for why her phone is next to her breast.

  “I could’ve put it in mine,” I tell her.

  “I gotta get this,” she replies, looking at her caller ID. “You’re gonna be okay, Amari?” she asks, already opening the exit door; must be important.

  “I will,” I reply then she runs out the door.

  I look in the mirror once again. Although I’ve done my best, my eyes are still red. The evidence of my tears is still there. I’ve cried so much the last couple of weeks that I hope the redness and puffiness of my eyes is confused with allergy symptoms. “Did she just say your name is Amari?” a voice says, catching me off guard.

  I turn around and find Christian’s daughter standing a couple of feet from me.

  “Yes, she did. That’s my first name,” I explain. “Amari Santana, but you kids get to call me Ms. Santana,” I remind her. I remember the first time I heard my teachers’ first names. It was weird. To this day, if I were to see one of them walking around, I’d still call them by their last name. I know it’s customary in places like the south. But I do it because it would just feel weird calling them anything other than that. It’s like when you run into your previous English teacher at a bar… weird.