Wrong choice.
She lets out a long, exaggerated sigh and stands up. Beneath her blanket, she’s wearing her red T-shirt again, but this time she has on flannel pants under it. She walks past me without saying anything. All I want is to take my words back, but don’t. I’m too busy trying to reckon with her hair, a disarray of curls shooting out in several directions. It makes me smile, and then I decide that maybe I do like her.
I turn and follow her out of the room, but she quickly shuts the bathroom door in my face. That’s fair, I suppose. But wait a minute. She’s the one who seduced me. I didn’t come here to violate her personal space or make any promises. She asked for it, so why is she making me feel guilty? With that last thought, I become annoyed that she’s reneging on her decision to be withme, and then I remember why I don’t have a girlfriend.
I had one in high school, a girl named Celeste, and things quickly went from good to awful. Right after we did it, she started getting all clingy. That wasn’t necessarily bad, but when I had somewhere to be (family business), she pitched a fit about it. “Why aren’t you spending time with me? Where are you going? Who are you with? Why are you trying to hurt my feelings? My friends say you’re up to something. Are you cheating? I can find someone who wants to spend time with me.”
It was like nails on a chalkboard, so I broke it off. She started dating someone on the football team the next week, and me? I decided female hormones and me didn’t mix. And that goes for right now too.
I go back into her bedroom and finish putting on my clothes. I’m making my way down the hall when I hear a sniffle. Is she crying? Seriously?
I head for her front door, but I hear my mom’s voice stabbing at my brain. “Vasile, you’d better not leave her like that. I didn’t raise you to be insensitive.” Her voice is jabbing at me and I’m trying to ignore it, but my mom’s voice was like music to my ears when she was alive, and I can’t pretend like I don’t want to listen.
Her voice keeps me on the right path, keeps me being someone who’d make her proud. I just can’t help wondering why she didn’t speak up sooner. Like, before I even knocked on the door last night. Fine, Mom. I’ll say something nice. And then I’m leaving.
I knock on the bathroom door. By now, her sniffles have turned into sobs.
“Riley, you okay in there?”
“Do I sound okay?”
“No.”
“Good. Now you know, so go away. Seriously.”
“I’m not going away.”
“Look. I don’t need you protecting me. I don’t need you feeling obligated to do anything anymore. Just please leave. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m not leaving until you open the door.”
“You’ll be waiting awhile.”
“Look, I don’t have time for this. Please, just open the door.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Why? So you can call me the devil and tell me how wrong it all was.”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Because my dead mother just told me to say something nice to you. That’s why. Now please open the door.”
There’s no reply, but the sniffling ceases. Either I’ve shocked her or she thinks I’m crazy. I lift up my fist to knock again, when the door opens.
“What?” she says, her eyes red and puffy. I stare in shock, pretty sure this is the worst she’s ever looked in the morning, but she still has some hold over me that makes me feel weird inside. “Say something nice then.”
I clear my throat, suddenly speechless.
“Nice,” she says, moving past me.
I instinctively reach out and grab her elbow, turning her back toward me.
“Look. I’m sorry.” Dang, those words again. “Listen. I don’t do this.” I make a circular motion with my hand to show her I mean everything—coming here, touching her, and staying last night. “I don’t make a habit of being with girls, and I especially wouldn’t spend time with a girl I don’t like. At least not in that way.”
She’s looking at me like I’ve stopped midsentence, waiting for more. I got nothing. I’ve said something nice, so I nod and turn toward the door. Then I turn back with an itching curiosity to ask her a question.
“Why did you go there with me, if you think I don’t like you?”
She exhales a small chuckle and rolls her eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe because I thought it would make everything okay. But it didn’t. I’m still crazy and you’re still going to leave me alone.”
Shaking my head, I attempt to offer some peace of mind. “Look, I haven’t seen any Hybrids all week. I think you’re good.”
“No I’m not.” She throws her hands in the air and drops them in defeat. “The nightmares are still there, and last night they were the worst.”
Something urges me to step closer to her. “What kind of nightmare?”
“A nightmare with more monsters, and you…you were one too. But you didn’t hurt me. You just looked at me with disgust.”
Her eyes glass over.
“I’m not a monster,” I say. “I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a monster. And you don’tdisgust me.” A tear spills over, and I reach up to wipe it away. She’s definitely having an emotional moment, but somehow her emotions don’t bother me like Celeste’s did.
“I’m sorry,” she says, backing away. “I’m not normally a basket case. I don’t know why I get so weak around you.”
She backpedals until she can’t go any farther, and then looks like she wants to slide back into the corner. My reflex is to lunge toward her, grabbing her elbows as she folds into my chest.
Ma? This is not part of the deal.
“Stop whining, Vasile.”
I’m fighting the urge to hold her, but I can’t stop. She smells so sweet, and being this close only highlights how small and fragile she feels. Thoughts pass through my mind as I try to remember if I was gentle enough with her last night. I think I was. There isn’t an ounce in me that doesn’t want to treat her with love and respect. Did I just say love? What the…?
“Yes, Vasile, you did.”
I check my thoughts and motion to let go of her like she has cooties, but she’s so limp, she’s going to crumble right to the floor. Without thinking, I scoop her up and carry her out to the living room and set her on the sofa. “Come on, Riley. Don’t be like this.”
She shakes her head. “I’m okay, really. I’ll get over it.”
“You don’t look okay.”
“Thanks,” she says wiping her nose on her sleeve.
“Well, you don’t. But you may have a good reason. Do you want to tell me more about the dream?”
She looks up, the whites of her eyes getting clearer, making the green stand out again. “I think I’ve shared enough of my mind for one day.”
“No, not really.”
She laughs sarcastically. “You like hearing a crazy girl talk monsters?”
“No, not especially. But it’s better than some other things you could say.”
“Like what? Asking if you’re going to be my boyfriend now? Don’t worry. You’re off the hook. I’m good. I’m over it.”
“Over what?”
She stands with renewed strength. “My own drama. I’m sorry. I had a moment. It’s done. Over. You can leave now. I’m fine. Tell your mom thanks for the kind words.”
She opens the front door and motions for me to leave. This irritates me, as does the mention of my mother.
I walk over and shut the door hard enough for her to cower. She’s so small that I nearly have to bend my knees to make sure I’m in her line of sight. “Look. I don’t know what your problem is, but you’re making my head spin. I’m sorry. There, I said it again, and hopefully for the last time. I’m tired of it. I’m tired of you making me feel confused. I’m tired of going against direct orders and risking my life. Tired of you making me want to come here all the time, making me want you period. It’s exhausting.
“One minute you’re
tempting me, the next you’re groping me, and the next you’re throwing me out. In case you didn’t notice, I liked you. I liked you enough to go against orders to kill you. I liked you enough to come back here to make sure you were safe. And I liked you enough to give in to all of it last night. So now you know. I hope you have a fantastic, safe life. I’m out of here.”
I move to open the door again, and she pushes it shut with her hand. Before I realize what’s happening, she has her arms around me again. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m just trying really hard to keep it together.” She’s clinging to me with her arms around my waist, so tight it hurts my stitches, but I ignore it. My brain tells me to put my arms around her in return, so I do. “I’m not this nutty. I swear. I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to.”
Her words are muffled in my shirt, but I can still make them out. “You just don’t understand. My whole life, I’ve thought I was crazy. I’ve thought hell was coming for me. And you….you…took it away, and all I wanted to do was cling to you. I wanted you to make it all stay away. And I’m sorry. I swear. I don’t want anything from you. You can do whatever you’re supposed to. I’m okay. Really.”
She backs away, and there are fewer traces of puffiness to her face, but her hair is still out of whack. Even so, she’s the most perfect girl I’ve ever seen. I don’t know where this is going, or even where I want it to go. But I like where I’m standing, and the way she looks at me as if I’m the only person in the world. I like the way she clings to me for protection; the way she manages to make me feel like I don’t have to be here unless I want to; the way she felt last night. I could’ve kissed every inch of her and it wouldn’t have been enough.
My mom doesn’t have to speak to me for me to know what to do next. I lean over and take her face in my hands, kiss her gently on her salty lips, and then pull back and nod. “It’s going to be okay,” I say. Then, I walk out of her door and into the bright morning sun where my truck is waiting for me. It won’t be the last time I come here, so I won’t even bother telling myself that it is.
By the time I arrive home, it’s only 7 a.m. The comfort of my bed is sounding good right now, so I slip my way through the halls. My door is ajar, causing me to enter with caution. Rosie’s sprawled out on my bed in her clothes and tennis shoes. I’m too exhausted, mentally, to wake her and make her move, so I lie down beside her. Between Riley, my mom, and Rosie, I’m feeling like I’ve had enough estrogen for one day.
***
It’s 10 a.m. when I wake to find Rosie sitting on my bed, legs crisscrossed, staring at me.
“Where were you?” she asks with a tired scowl.
I roll back over, thinking I need some basketball time to escape the female emotions. “Out,” I say.
“Out…where?”
“Just keeping an eye on things.”
“Right. Well, I stayed up until two waiting for you.”
“What for?” I ask, trying to shield the sunlight from my eyes.
“Because I wanted to make sure you weren’t lying in some Hybrid ditch. Now where were you?”
“The last time I checked, I’m an adult, Rosie—”
“Cut the crap, Vasi. Tell me.”
I sit up, wincing, the soreness in my side finally demanding my attention. “Fine. I was watching over Riley.”
She scoots closer. “Really? What’s happening? Tell me!”
I’m trying to think of something to feed her nosiness, when I get an idea. I can’t keep watching Riley all the time. One, it’s too tempting. Two, Henri would eventually notice. And three, I need to see what I can find out elsewhere.
“Rosie, I’m actually glad you’re here. I’ve been watching her lately to make sure she’s not a threat or in danger, and it’s exhausting. I can’t do it alone anymore. I’m going to need your help.”
She perks up. “Oh, this is getting good.”
“Yeah, well, seriously. You can’t tell anyone, and she can’t notice. We’ll trade off. You take the first shift.”
“Starting when?”
“Starting now.”
She frowns. “Right now? Why?”
I tell the partial truth. “Because she’s alone, and I’d like to make sure one of us can watch her today. You’re the only person I can trust to do it.”
She agrees, and, with Rosie gone and me feeling a little more comfortable that Riley isn’t on her own for the day, I fit in some basketball. Dani and Andre meet me out there and we just shoot around. Both of them know I have stitches, so we avoid the physical contact of an actual game.
By lunch time, I feel good and squeeze in a quick shower. It hits me that I’ve only thought about Riley for three quarters of my morning. Plus, I’m getting restless, having not heard from Rosie about what Riley’s doing. Even still, I don’t call her, for fear that she’ll suspect I care too much.
A knock at my door excites me a little. Rosie? I answer to find Clara, holding a plate with a large sandwich and fries in one hand and a Pepsi in the other.
“Hey, Clara”
“Vasile.”
“What’s this?”
“Food,” she says, walking past me. She sets it on my desk and turns, putting her hands on her full-framed hips.
“Clara, you don’t have to cook for me.”
“You’ve told me that a thousand times, but your mother would have my rear end if I let you starve. And the last time I checked, you haven’t fixed yourself anything today, so here it is. Eat.”
She wipes her hands on her apron, nods, and walks past me the same way she came in.
“Thanks, Clara.”
Without turning toward me, she says, “You’re welcome.”
Clara is smart. The aroma from the hot beef and tomato sandwich and fries fills my room, drawing me in hook, line, and sinker. Realizing I am hungry, I dig in, but it doesn’t subdue my thoughts of Riley. I finally fold and call Rosie.
“Hello?” she answers.
“Rosie, what’s up?”
“God.”
“What?”
“That’s what’s up,” she says.
“Care to elaborate?”
I can hear a song in the background and recognize it as one from her playlists, so she’s in her car.
Sounding bored, she says, “I’m sitting in a church parking lot. Been here for two hours.”
“Two hours?”
“Yes, two hours. You owe me.”
I ignore her solicitation to get something from me later, and concentrate on the intel. “So she’s at church?”
Quickly, she answers, “Yeah, she must’ve sinned recently.” I cough, nearly spitting out my food. When I regain my composure, I tell her people don’t have to sin to go to church.
“Yeah, well, they don’t have to stay this long if they didn’t.”
I laugh. “Why don’t you go in there and cleanse yourself too. It’ll do you good.”
“Not a chance.”
“Why not?”
“Because people would look at me funny.”
“Rosie. You’re being silly.”
“No I’m not. It’s a Baptist church.”
“So.”
“So, everyone there is…you know…African American.”
“You don’t have to be African American to be Baptist, Rosie.”
“Here you do. I’d stick out like a sore thumb.”
“Riley’s in there,” I say.
“Yeah, well, she’s sticking out like a sore thumb.”
Interesting. What’s she doing?
Rosie snaps me out of my train of thought. “All right, well, if you’re done. My favorite song’s on, so...”
“Okay. Just make sure she gets home and then come back here. And tell me if you see her talking to anyone strange.”
She hangs up, and I feel partly like I’m stalking Riley, and partly like I’m protecting her. The strangeness of it all makes the spy sensation stand out, and I don’t like it. I finish my food, trying to shake concern for her. Again
.
Rosie gets back and tells me the only people Riley spoke to in the parking lot were women in large hats, and she drove the speed limit the whole way home. I don’t know why everything about her makes me want to smile.
I don’t ask Rosie to watch her anymore tonight, but I feel like I’m dancing around an invisible issue. I have to figure out a way to bring normalcy back into our lives. As normal as they can be, anyway.
Tonight, the only thing I can think of is to pay Riley a visit to settle some things, and to make sure she’s able to take care of herself. I drive to her house with a determined purpose. This time when she opens the door, she’s wearing a yellow pajama top with white pants. It’s good to see her covered up, because my thoughts stay clean.
“Hey,” she says, smiling, but not too brightly. Her expectations don’t seem too high, but nevertheless, she seems glad to see me.
“Hey,” I close the door behind me, and, as if on auto pilot, I lean down to give her a kiss on the cheek. She leans in to absorb it, subtly.
“Can we sit?” I ask.
“Of course.” She leads the way over to the sofa. I expect her to sit in the middle, but she chooses the edge and places the pillow on her lap. Again, she’s found a way to make me want to come to her.
“Listen,” I say, sitting next to her. “I don’t know what to say or do about anything that’s happened. I just don’t want you thinking bad things about me. And I want to make sure you’re safe.”
“Okay?” she says, like it’s a question.
I haven’t planned what I’m going to say, so it’s sounding like rambling, but I keep going. “I need to make sure no more monsters or anyone from my family bothers you, but in order for me to do that, I need to find out what’s going on. And I can’t do that being around here all the time.” She nods. “I want you to take this,” I continue, showing her a handgun. Surprisingly, she takes it without hesitation. Her face is unmoved, but she’s examining it as if deciding on a purchase. “It has special bullets that will immobilize a Hybrid almost instantly. Since you can’t take one out or dispose of it properly, all these will do is tranquilize it until you can get to safety and call me. Do you think you can handle that?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, so stay indoors as much as you can. If you go anywhere, be alert and take this with you at all times. And I’d like your phone number…if you don’t mind.”
The Syndicate Page 9