by Tori Alvarez
“How is it you are always in a good mood?” I ask, curious. We have been friends now for a couple of months, but I have avoided asking her meaningful questions for fear she would turn them around to me.
“Am I?” she asks before taking a sip of her latte.
I nod.
“I don’t know. I guess I don’t think about it anymore.” She pauses and looks pensive before beginning again. “I wasn’t always so cheery. After my mom died, I was a mess. Then, my first year in college, I was in a deeper hole of misery. I hate to put it like that because there could be so many more reasons for life to suck than ‘I don’t like my shallow friends,’ but that was me then. My dad saw it. He was worried. I mentioned before that I took the year off and traveled. That year helped me refocus on what was important and helped my mindset.”
“How so?” I am really invested in her transformation now.
“I was grateful for what I had, but I don’t think I truly understood gratitude. All the material possessions are nice, and money does make life easier, but my friendships were lacking. I always hung out with people like me—materially speaking. But sometimes, when you have so much, it’s taken for granted. I was there. I was taking things for granted. All the money couldn’t bring my mom back. I wanted to express my sadness to my friends, sorority sisters, and all they wanted to do was party and shop. I wasn’t where they were anymore.”
“I will admit I don’t have many friends, but I keep it that way. I have chosen to isolate myself because I don’t trust others.”
“Why?” she asks. I figured my statement could cause questions and I would have to open up. For some reason, at this moment, I’m not uncomfortable with it.
“Before I answer, how did the traveling help your mindset?”
Just then, the pager starts vibrating at the table. I jump up. “I’ll get it.”
I walk back to the table with our food to proceed with the conversation.
We fix our plates and get comfortable again before she begins again. “Traveling.”
She lets this word hang for a moment. “I was alone in my travels. I was forced to either build new friendships or stay alone in my thoughts. I was aching for real connections. The European culture was so open to speaking truths—or at least the people I met and began forging friendships with. In meeting them and opening up honestly, I found myself. The original intention was for me to do one semester abroad, but I didn’t want to come back after a semester. One turned into two. And to be honest, two was almost three. But my dad pleaded with me to come home. I couldn’t see him as often as he would like, so I packed up and came home.”
“You found yourself? Explain.” I want more.
“I realized, while I love the material things money can get me, those things weren’t as important as the friendships I made. Our circle was diverse in every way imaginable. I wasn’t surrounded by cliquish, cookie-cutter friends. These people all had their own styles and thoughts. They weren’t scared to share them for fear of being on the ‘outs.’” She air quotes with her fingers.
I am stunned silent with her admission. Could I be just as honest?
“Why have you isolated yourself?” she asks after a few quiet moments.
I take a deep breath in and exhale slowly, buying myself a little more time. I have never considered sharing my truth to anyone. At least, not while I am still in college. There are very few people who can handle this type of truth. I hope Lola is one, or I am alone again. The realization of not wanting to be alone again is not where I want to be anymore.
“I was raised on the south side.” I decide to start with my easiest truth.
“Okay,” she responds when I don’t elaborate past this. “And this means?”
“I’m poor,” I add for clarification.
“Why do you feel you need to isolate yourself because of that?” Confusion mars her face. She really doesn’t care how much money I have.
My life is about to be on display, exposing all my vulnerabilities. “That part of town is like quicksand. Once you are in, there is very little chance of escape. The stereotypical vicious cycle of poverty. I have a chance of escaping, and I don’t want anything to mess up my chances. Which means I do what I need in order to survive.”
I pause, collecting my thoughts on how to proceed. Now that I’m talking, I want to continue, but there is so much.
“My grandmother raised me. My mom is a leech who is always looking for her next white knight who is going to support her and sweep her away from her life. But all she ever finds is losers who use her and dump her. She gets a few bills here and there, but they go back to their respectable wives or girlfriends and leave her back on her hands and knees, begging for another chance. She blamed me when I was little. That was why no man wanted her—because she was strapped with a kid. So she up and dumped me on my grandmother.
“My grandmother did the best she could. And I’m grateful to her. She didn’t have to keep us, but she was our stability. I guess you can say I’m smart. That’s how I got into college, because my grades weren’t the best. I was a National Merit Scholar, so the university offered me a free ride. If I hadn’t gotten that scholarship, I wouldn’t be here. I would be working some dead-end job and living at home until I died.”
A single tear escapes. My admission is stirring emotions I didn’t realize I had suppressed. Lola places her hand on mine and squeezes.
“I don’t know what to say other than…thank you. I knew you had a story. I was just waiting until you were ready and trusted me enough to share with me.”
She doesn’t realize there’s more.
“I’m not done. Are you sure you want to know the rest?” For the first time in my life, I’m not afraid of who I am or where I’m from.
“Absolutely. If you want to share.”
“I work at a strip club.” I drop what I think is a bomb.
“But I thought you said you worked at El Mundo?”
“I did last night, but I don’t usually. My manager at the strip club got me in because she had too many waitresses and I needed to work. I’m a cocktail waitress, not a stripper.” A hint of a smile appears on her face. “I work there because it’s easy money, and I make enough to where I don’t have to work all semester as long as I stay on budget. I thought I was not going to have to work at all for the rest of the year. I had squirreled away a good amount. But then my mom messed it all up again.” My anger is rising, thinking of what she did to my grandmother.
“How did she mess it up?”
“She borrowed money from my grandmother. My grandmother doesn’t have money to be lending. She barely makes it. My cousins and I help her out. When my mother borrowed money and didn’t repay, I had to cover. That took a large chunk out of my savings. Now, I’m back at the club, working.”
“Oh… That’s really crappy. I’m sorry.”
“It is what it is.” I shrug.
“So how many nights will you be back at the club?”
The normality of her question stuns me.
“Uh… If I’m only working once maybe twice a week, maybe four to six weeks. Now that the semester is on the way, I hate to work more than that. I need to stay on top of my work to graduate on time. If I have to, I will pull several shifts during winter break to cover the spring semester.”
She finishes chewing and swallows before adding, “I can understand why you wouldn’t want to share where you work. There are so many judgmental assholes.” She takes a sip of her coffee.
I can see a question beginning to form on her face.
“You can ask,” I prompt her to end the suspense.
“I’m happy you told me, but what does this mean now? You have to admit, you were avoiding me. Will you continue avoiding me again, or will you hang the way we did before? If you have to work, just tell me. No one but me needs to know what your plans are.”
I’ve opened up enough for today. There is still so much more, but maybe it will just go to the grave with me.
“
I was avoiding you. I can’t stand the judgmental assholes, like you said, or the looks of pity. I do what I do, and I don’t need anyone’s damn pity. And because you are taking this so well and aren’t showing either, we can go back to before,” I answer, feeling a small weight lift.
“Good. As you know, I have no problems with stalking you.” She winks at me before shoving a large forkful in her mouth, smiling.
Garrett
I need to get my head back into the game. I can’t continue pining away for some chick who had no respect for me. She is a complete bitch. Who knows how long she had been with that dick? Every time I think about that day, I want to go back and wipe that fucking superior smirk off his face. Who the fuck do I think I’m kidding? I’m pissed because I still want her.
I knew she had an edge to her. There was more to her. She kept everything close to the vest, but for her to be dating me and another ass was not a thought that had crossed my mind. That guy looked rough. One of those guys who you don’t want to get caught with in a dark alley cause shit may get real.
Crossing campus to my next class, I catch a glimpse of her walking with Lola. I stop in my tracks even though I want to start running to intercept their path. She is smiling and seems relaxed. As angry and hurt as I am, I’m also happy to see her smiling. That true smile. Not the one she wears to hide herself. I stand in place, letting them pass, not wanting to interrupt the lightness she very rarely shows.
I just have to face the facts that I’m just not what she needs. Class is the last place I want to be right now, but I force myself there.
The sun is just beginning to peek over the horizon as I finish saddling my horse. I grabbed a couple of waters and snacks to ride the property. The city and the frat house were not the safest places for me at the moment. If I had seen Kevin and he had told me one more time she was bad news, I was going to lose it on him.
I lift myself up into the saddle, ready to spend the day in peaceful solitude—my horse and me with the beauty of the land. That’s all I need right now. I head to the west side of the property, ready to ride the perimeter of the land and check all the fencing myself. As the sun continues to rise, the pastel shades of the sky remind me of her. Even with the tough exterior Toni likes to project, there is a fragile center she hides. Even with her insistence of masking it, I saw it. I just wanted her to let me in.
I still can’t figure out how I could have been so wrong. How did I not see her dating someone else? When and how was she seeing him? Was she sleeping with both of us? As these questions continue to swirl, the anger continues to build. The peace I was hoping for on the quiet ride soon changes to a race. The faster I go, the quieter my mind seems to be. I don’t realize how long we have been charging until my horse begins to slow on his own. He gallops toward a small pond. I know I have worn him out and need to give him a break. I leave him next to the water as I make my way to the shade of a nearby tree.
I sit with the snacks and water I had packed, not really wanting either. When he is done drinking, I walk to him and guide him back to the shade of the tree and tie his reins to a branch. I lie down, watching the leaves dance in the breeze.
The sound of a truck wakes me from an unexpected nap. Juan is opening the door to the ranch truck.
“Your parents are looking for you, guero,” Juan yells as he walks in my direction.
“Not surprising. I left before anyone was up. I needed to get away,” I inform him. “I thought I was going to check the perimeter for myself, but I decided to ride in chingas instead.” I shrug as I sit up.
“Still bothered by the girl?” His question is simple but loaded.
“You can say that.” It is the best answer without boring him with it again.
“Perimeter check then?” He points to the back end of the property.
“Yeah. I’m going.” I stand, getting the horse ready to go out again.
“Vamos tomar hora? (We drinking tonight?)” he asks as he’s walking back toward the truck.
“I’ll be there,” I yell as he’s lifting himself up into the truck.
The scent of a mom-made dinner is wafting upstairs as I exit my room. Surprising my parents with my unannounced visit last night was not the best idea. My dad was upset, wanting me to ‘focus’ on my studies. He doesn’t believe I need to be driving back and forth or worrying about what is happening here. Dinner will either be the normal affair it usually is or I’m in for a lecture. Since I’ve been out all day, they haven’t been able to corner me for an explanation.
“Smells good.” I butter my mom up with the truth. She can be the greatest referee known to man if I can keep her happy.
“Thank you, honey. It’s all ready. Come serve yourself.” She motions toward the stove and counter where she has laid everything out.
“Didn’t know we would be seeing you this weekend,” my dad says as he walks toward me.
“It wasn’t planned. Not much going on at school, so I thought I could use a quiet weekend.” I tell a partial truth.
“Not much going on means good study time,” he continues. It’s not looking to be the best dinner after all.
I take my plate and sit down at the kitchen table, staying quiet. I know no response will be the best one. I watch as my dad finishes serving himself and as my mom dotes on him. She then begins serving herself. She brings her plate to the table, and before she sits, she asks, “Anything else?”
“Sit down, Mom. Everything looks delicious.” Which is the truth. This is the part I miss most about living on my own.
Her smile brightens as she takes her seat.
“Stop giving him such a hard time. He does not come home that often, and I miss my baby,” she directs at my dad, her mad skills bringing my father’s temper down in full gear.
Wanting to please my dad and show him I can handle the ranch, eventually, I begin to tell him about my ride—the one after I tried to race away from her memory. “I rode the perimeter of the line. The work we did before covered the most critical areas. There are a couple at the far north end we should look at. I could get those done during winter break. The herd very rarely heads in that direction, so it could wait.”
“You rode the property?” my dad questions.
“Sure did. It’s been too long since I’ve done that. I want to make sure I know everything about the land. You told me that.” I use my dad’s words to soften the conversation.
“Enough about that,” Mom sidelines ranch talk. “Tell us how school is going. You haven’t been calling as often. Someone taking up your time?” A light teasing can be heard.
She is right. Those weeks spent with Toni, I didn’t place the usual good-morning calls. I drop my gaze to my plate, not knowing how to and not wanting to answer.
“There is someone!” she exclaims.
“What? No.” I quickly try to shut the conversation down. “I also had to lead number 137 back to the herd. She had wandered off.” The ranch talk is much safer now.
“Don’t you go changing the subject on me. Spill.” She sees right through me. My father’s brows pull in, wondering if my mom is right.
I shove food in my mouth, buying a little more time to figure out what I’m going to say. I chew as slowly as I can before both my dad and mom have stopped eating and are staring at me for more information.
“Fine. Yes, there was someone, but now there’s not.” I shove more food in my mouth, hoping the explanation is enough.
“Okay. Thank you for that. But I’m going to need a little more,” Mom continues.
“Her name was Toni. She wasn’t one of those annoying girls who want me for my name. I don’t even think she knew who I was. But now she’s gone. End of story.”
“And why is she gone?” She continues to probe.
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because she chose someone else.” I lay it all out. Why hide it now?
“Oh, honey. I’m sorry. I don’t know who she would have chosen over you.” A mom’s biased statement for sure.
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��Yeah, well, she chose some rough-looking dude. I guess the stereotype of girls choosing the bad boy is true.”
“Maybe. But I know for a fact, you, my son, will come out on top.” She winks and places a bite in her mouth.
Hole-in-the-wall bars are the only place I need to be. There is no need for ‘airs’ or good impressions. Alcohol and more alcohol is the only thing I’m concerned with. Juan drove us, but I’m figuring someone else may be driving us back, because he’s going one for one with me tonight.
“Mind if we have next game?” a pretty blonde asks.
“How about teams, sweetheart?” Juan answers before I can. “You with my friend, Garrett, and your friend with me.”
“Sure.” Her smile widens. “I’m Carrie, and this is Sara.”
Juan motions the waitress over. “Two more for us, and ladies…” He gestures for them to give their order. I collect the balls to re-rack the table.
Blondie is hot, and I could really use the distraction.
I break to start the game. As the girls each take their turn, the flirtation is on full blast, their asses swaying as they bend to take their shots, and their tits showing through low-cut shirts as they lean over the table. Blondie has made it a point to brush past me, grazing her hand by my length each time she’s passed me.
I’m not big on one-night stands, but tonight is looking good.
“I gotta take a leak.” I excuse myself.
As I walk out of the bathroom, blondie is standing against the wall, biting her lip with hunger in her eyes. I take a step to her and pin her against the wall.
“Tell me what you want.”
She grabs my face, bringing it down to hers forcefully. A first kiss it is not. She opens instantly, greedily shoving her tongue in my mouth. Her hands come around and cup my ass as she pulls me against her. I grind into her as she moans loudly. My hand comes up to rub her breast as I begin kissing down her neck, her nipple hard underneath my palm.
“My place, Garrett Anders?”
That one statement is like a bucket of ice-cold water. She knows who I am and probably only wants two things—my name and my money. I pull away quickly.