by Bell, Serena
After a long time, he managed to unbuckle his seat belt and extricate himself from the car. He pressed the button to close the overhead garage door. Theo had slammed the door into the house, but it had bounced back open.
He held the edge of the door in his hand. Stood there, staring into the darkness of the basement. Staring at the life he’d been living, the one that was waiting for him now.
A small, stubborn thought took root in him.
He could not go back. He would not go back.
“You’re what?” James demanded.
Ethan shifted on the couch, turned away from his brother’s intense gaze. “Marriage is the best chance she has to adjust her status and become legal again. Become a citizen.”
“So she’s putting you up to this.” James crossed his arms.
Ethan shook his head. “No. It was my idea. I called a lawyer, a friend of a friend.…” After a restless night, he’d awakened, sure of what had to be done. For Ana. For him and Theo. He’d called Rena Abrams and gotten her brother-in-law’s number. She’d guessed, of course, that it concerned Ana, had been thrilled that Ana had changed her mind about talking to a lawyer. Ethan didn’t bother to tell her that Ana knew nothing about his machinations.
James was staring at him as if he’d grown fangs.
“He says if she gets married she can adjust her status without leaving the country,” Ethan explained. “Because she came here legally in the first place.” The lawyer had also said that nothing was guaranteed post-9/11, but Ethan didn’t feel the need to bring that up.
“Are you out of your mind?” James bounced up onto his feet, paced a few feet toward the door and back again. “Marriage! You’ve known her a month!”
“It’s a contractual arrangement. To make sure she doesn’t get kicked out of the country.”
“Don’t kid yourself,” James said dangerously. “It’s a marriage. Lifetime commitment. Constraints on your freedom. Hazard to your financial well-being. Potential for nasty divorce. In-laws!”
He’d known his brother was going to freak out. All things considered, this wasn’t really as bad as he’d feared. Either James was holding back or he didn’t really hate the idea all that much. This was about the intensity of reaction Ethan would have expected if he’d been dating someone for a year and was proposing marriage to her under far more conventional circumstances.
“At least tell me there will be a prenup.”
Harry Abrams had brought up the idea of a prenup but had strongly recommended against it: “The marriage has to be one hundred percent convincing as a love match. You don’t want to give anyone any reason to doubt the romantic nature of your involvement with her. You want to make the marriage as convincing as possible. A prenup opens the door to doubt.”
“I don’t want to do anything that raises the risk she’ll be deported,” Ethan had told Abrams. “And that brings up another point: Are we raising the risk that her family members will be deported?”
“Not by much,” Abrams said. “They’re always at risk, just by existing. But the chances that this would trigger some kind of action against them—not that likely, given the scarcity of resources.”
James had stopped pacing and was staring at Ethan with a look of concern.
“I want you to be my best man.”
“Wow. That’s pretty cool.” For a moment, James looked downright pleased. Then he recovered his cynical mask. “But I still think you’re crazy. Though she is hot. I can’t fault your taste. Just your fucking sanity. Are you sure about this?”
If it had been anyone other than James, Ethan would have lied to shut him up. But he couldn’t lie to his brother, and besides, James would see right through him. “No, I’m not sure. But I think I’m going to do it anyway. If—” He broke off, his stomach clenching on the thought he’d just had.
James eyed him suspiciously.
“Well, I haven’t actually asked her yet. She could say no.”
“Jesus, Eth.”
“I’m going to give myself the weekend to think about it. Ask her on Monday.” He thought of the way they’d left it, her walking away from him without looking back. Who knew what dire conclusions she’d reach between now and Monday, an eternity away? But it didn’t seem right to rush this. Proposing marriage was—it was huge. He wanted to make sure he knew what he was doing.
“Have you told Theo? Where is Theo, by the way?”
“He went to the mall with a friend of his.” Rena Abrams had taken both kids to the mall, promising she’d chaperone closely. “I haven’t told him yet, but I’m planning to. He needs to know before I ask Ana. He’ll take it better if he feels involved.” Ethan couldn’t guess what Theo’s reaction might be. He could see it going either way. The unpredictability of teenagers.
“What about Mom and Dad?”
“I’m not telling them. I’ll tell them when—if—it becomes a reality. After I work up the courage, that is. Because—Mom’s going to freak, won’t she?”
James nodded.
“She’s not going to like the idea at all.”
“Mom’s a romantic,” James said. “I don’t think marriage-as-contract-for-ensuring-citizenship is her thing. But, beyond that, she’s going to say, a lot of people are going to say, that Ana tricked you into it. That she’s using you.”
“Ana never said a thing about marriage. It never came up. It’s one hundred percent my idea.”
“I know that. And you know that. And Ana knows that. But Mom’s not going to know that.”
“Well, that’s why I’m not telling her.”
James twisted uncomfortably on the couch. “Eth, you’re not lying to yourself here, are you?”
“About what?” Ethan frowned. He felt that he was being pretty darned honest with himself and everyone around him.
“About your motives.”
“In what way would I be lying to myself?”
“You know I’m not much of a romantic myself. But it seems to me you like her a lot. A lot a lot. Like, more than ‘a contractual arrangement’ a lot.”
“What if I do? That’s not against the rules, is it?”
“Does she feel the same way?”
“I’m not asking her to. I’m not asking her to feel any particular way. I’m giving her a chance to get rid of some of the uncertainty in her life. She doesn’t have to promise me anything in return.”
James regarded him with a pointed, level gaze, until Ethan looked away. “I’m just saying,” James said quietly, “that it’s two different things, a business arrangement and a love match, and you—”
“I know what I’m doing.”
James shook his head, laughed wryly. “You keep telling yourself that.”
When Rena Abrams dropped Theo off, Ethan went out to the driveway to thank her for chaperoning, although the flush high in Theo’s cheeks made him wonder how carefully she’d monitored the kids.
“Hey.” She leaned out her minivan’s window. “Do you and Theo have somewhere to be for Thanksgiving? Would you want to join us? It’s kind of a fray, but that means extra bodies are always welcome.”
He’d forgotten about Thanksgiving, still a couple of weeks off. “Thanks. That’s a really nice offer.” He meant it. “But we always do Thanksgiving with my brother and my parents.” And maybe—he let himself think it—he’d invite Ana this year, too.
He and Theo waved as Rena and Leah pulled out of the driveway. Ethan followed Theo inside and into the kitchen, where Theo immediately began ransacking the snack cabinet.
Ethan waited for him to emerge with a bag of jelly beans, then said, “I have something to tell you.”
“Something good or bad?” Theo demanded instantly, glaring at his father suspiciously.
“Something good.”
Theo narrowed his eyes.
“I’m going to ask Ana to marry me.”
Theo dropped the bag, and jelly beans scattered all over the kitchen floor. Neither of them moved.
“S-s-eriously?”
/> “Seriously.” Ethan knelt and began picking up the jelly beans, to have something to do.
“You—you’re—getting married?” Theo asked.
“Yes.” Ethan swept the multicolored beans into a pile with his hands. “Well, if she says yes.” He hazarded a glance up at his son, who appeared to have frozen in place.
“Ana’s going to be my—my—”
“Your stepmother. If she says yes,” repeated Ethan, wondering if perhaps it had been a bad idea to tell Theo before asking Ana. But the alternative, of springing it on him afterward, had seemed so much worse.
“Wow. That’s so weird! That’s so—”
To Ethan’s great surprise and relief, he began to hop around the kitchen in a little dance. “So cool!” he exclaimed, and went to get himself a glass from the cabinet, then crossed the kitchen and opened the fridge for the milk. “I bet she won’t be a wicked stepmother, huh?” He poured the milk, missing the glass in his excitement.
Ethan put down the bag of recovered jelly beans and helped Theo clean up the spilled milk. “I’m glad you’re happy about it. Just remember, I still have to ask her.” But he let himself feel pretty good for a moment. Maybe this was going to go smoothly. James was on board. Theo was outright enthusiastic. That just left—
He wouldn’t let himself think she might say no.
“Okay.” Theo jumped a little on the balls of his feet, grinning. “What’s the plan?”
Ethan began explaining the legal significance of the marriage, how it would set in motion a process that could—he hoped—end with Ana’s becoming a permanent resident and ultimately a citizen.
“No! The plan for proposing.”
Looking at the glee splashed all over his son’s face, he knew that Theo wasn’t picturing a business proposition.
“Ring?” Theo asked.
Ethan shook his head. “I’m just going to suggest this to her. It’s not like a proposal, really. It’s just a conversation. I’m going to say, ‘I could marry you. Then we could file for a change in your status without your having to go back to D.R.’ ”
“No way,” Theo said emphatically, shaking his head. “You gotta do this right.”
But what was right for a situation like this? He might scare the heck out of Ana if he presented her with a ring. On the other hand, he might scare the heck out of her if he presented her with a business proposition.
A ring scared the heck out of him, he admitted to himself. A ring was acknowledgment that it wouldn’t be just a business proposition. Oh, Jesus. He was about to propose marriage to someone he’d been dating for two weeks. Someone he’d had sex with three times. He was not this guy! He needed to take about twenty giant steps back, catch his breath.
“What about this? She shows up Monday to tutor me and there are candles lit all over and you get down on one knee and give her a ring.”
“You’ve been watching too much TV.”
“Everyone knows you’re supposed to have candles and a ring and get down on one knee. You had candles and a ring and got down on one knee when you proposed to Mom.”
“I wasn’t proposing that she marry me so she could get a green card,” Ethan said dryly. “No, I have to be honest with her. We don’t know each other that well, and this is something that could help her out and help you and me out by making sure Ana sticks around.”
Theo grumbled under his breath.
“What?”
“Not very romantic,” Theo muttered.
“You have to trust me. I have more life experience than you do.”
Theo glared at him. “Doesn’t seem to have done you much good so far.”
Chapter 20
By Sunday night, Ana was able to haul herself to work. It took a supreme effort of will, but she taught her two classes.
Afterward, she barely slept. Cara had a bad cold and snored. Whenever Ana woke up, she thought of Ethan. Sometimes she thought about the good things. She remembered shooting pool, feeling his eyes on her, his gaze bringing heat to the surface of her skin wherever it touched her. She remembered his smile—rare, intense, his eyes lit up and his teeth flashing, the crinkles and lines diving into motion. But mostly she remembered the way he looked and sounded as he demanded to know why she hadn’t told him that she was illegal. Betrayed.
She tried to put herself back in time, tried to imagine telling him on their first date, maybe when she told him about coming to the United States. She’d been so afraid he’d turn tail, like Walt. Maybe she hadn’t given him enough credit. Maybe she’d been too scared, had liked him too much.
But the truth was he had turned tail. She hadn’t heard a peep from him since Friday night. She’d checked her phone a million times, even called herself once from Cara’s cell to make sure the voice mail was actually working. Everything was functioning properly—it was just that Ethan hadn’t called her.
Because any guy, put in the same situation, would do what Walt had done. Anyone with any sense in his head would run from the complications, the dangers, the sheer drama of being involved with someone who could be arrested and deported at any moment.
Her eyes burned when she woke up on Monday, from lack of sleep and unshed tears. Still, she taught her morning class. She had no choice. She couldn’t afford to give up on earning money because the inevitable heartbreak had finally arrived. Particularly if she had to turn her savings over to Ricky. At her current rate, it would take her two or three years to rebuild that stash.
When she got home after class, Ricky was sitting on the front stoop, waiting. Arms crossed. A look on his face that on anyone else might have been a hint of a smile but on him was the beginning of temper. His face was drawn; she knew that he’d just finished his graveyard shift and hadn’t gone to bed yet.
“Who is he?” Ricky demanded.
Fear leaped in her chest, but she kept her face carefully neutral. “Who’s who?”
“The guy you spent the weekend crying over.”
For a moment, she considered trying to deny it, but she was too exhausted.
Ricky patted the stair next to him. “Who is he? I already figured out it’s no one from around here.”
She sat. “It’s over. It doesn’t matter who it was.”
“He break up with you?”
“Nah. I got bored with him.”
“That’s a lot of crying over someone you were bored with.”
“I get discouraged sometimes.” That was true. “I think I’ll never meet anyone I can be serious about.”
He was quiet then.
She realized that she didn’t often think about him and his romantic life. There had been girls along the way, and for all she knew he might have fathered children. Although if she knew Ricky, he was probably careful about that. After Cara got pregnant the first time, Ricky and a friend beat the crap out of the baby’s daddy. Ana was pretty sure the guy had fled the state. She didn’t think Ricky went around creating single moms. But did he ever think about kids? Did he want kids of his own? A wife? Did he get discouraged sometimes?
“It’s that guy, right? The tutoring guy?” He didn’t look angry. He looked sad, as if she’d disappointed him, or maybe the world had. “You know that’s never going to work for you, right?”
She did—she finally did. She nodded. Her head felt heavy—fatigue and a dull dread. She wanted to let her head slump forward on her chest. She wanted to go upstairs and get into bed and stay there for a week. She’d never really noticed before, but there was no slack in her life. If she was too sick or too tired to teach or tutor, there was no one to do it for her.
“You want me to kick the shit out of him?”
She looked up at him, alarmed. “You stay away from him!”
He put his hands up. “Just asking.”
They sat for a moment in silence. Then she said, “He’s a good guy.”
He shook his head, got to his feet, so that he towered over her. “No more yanquis, Ana. For me. No more.”
“What do you have against them,
Ricky? What’s the big deal? He’s just a guy! For God’s sake …”
But she knew that he wasn’t going to answer, even as the words rushed out of her.
And she thought she knew the answer, though she’d never hear it from his lips. Ricky was scared of losing her. She was his partner. He loved Cara, too, of course, but the truth was it was Ricky and Ana who held things together. They earned the money, they made the decisions. If she left, he’d be alone.
She understood his fear. She couldn’t imagine doing it without him.
At the same time, it was not her job to take care of him forever. At some point, she had to do what was right for her. She had to stop living like Ricky’s little girl.
He took a step toward her. If it hadn’t been her Ricky, she’d have called his posture menacing. “Just promise, Ana. Promise me. No more.”
The last thing she ever wanted to do again was date another white boy—or anyone, for that matter. But it galled her, Ricky’s wanting to make the rules for her. She was a big girl, and she was her own boss now.
She couldn’t promise him. That knowledge took up residence in her jaw, hardening it.
He was watching her closely, and his breathing sped up at that tiny sign of her stubbornness. His chest swelled. She felt the heat of his growing rage, born of helplessness. If he couldn’t boss his little sister around, who did that leave?
“I won’t let you.” His low voice broke with anger.
It would be so easy to promise him. Make him feel that he could still be the boss. And yet she couldn’t. Craziness twisted in her chest, rose, full-fledged rebellion. “If I really wanted to, you couldn’t stop me.”
His gaze bored into her. “Oh, yes, I could.” And the cool steel in his voice scared her more than the heat had.