On the Ropes

by Christa Cervone

  “Respect, friendship, and most importantly, trust.”

  Who the hell are you to give anyone relationship advice? What successful relationship have you been in? Even your own father couldn’t stand you. I chastise myself.

  “He has all of those things in me,” she says confidently.

  “But, do you have them with him?”

  Her right hand brushes her cheek, and she quickly turns her face away from mine.

  “Hey, you okay?” I gently touch her knee.

  “I’m fine,” she sniffles, pushing my hand away.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Way to go genius, making her cry.

  “You didn’t,” she insists and tries to change the subject. “How much longer until we get there?”

  “About ten minutes.”

  “It is not the size of a man but the size of his heart that matters.”

  —Evander Holyfield

  As we get closer to our destination, the crowds on the sidewalks are growing. “We’re almost there now,” I smile as I glance out my window. “I just want to find a place to park and we can walk the rest of the way.”

  “Here?” she sounds shocked.

  “What’s the matter with here?”

  “It’s kind of…”

  “The ghetto?” I interrupt her.

  “I wouldn’t say it’s ‘the ghetto,’ exactly.”

  “I most certainly would say it’s the ghetto. This is the neighborhood where I lived as a child.”

  “Gabriel, I’m sorry.”

  “There’s no need to apologize. I can’t change where I came from.”

  Pulling into a plaza that houses a few stores, Salem looks around. “Are you sure we can park here? This looks like private property.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I reassure her, “I know people.”

  “You know people who are going to steal my car?” she says in a small laugh. The expression on her face says it all; she’s not comfortable leaving her car in this section of town.

  “Well, sadly, I probably do,” I joke, “but, I meant that I know Pablo. He owns Pablo’s Market.” I point to the small market right in front of us, “He’ll let us park here and I promise your car will be safe. Come on, let me introduce you to him.”

  The two of us walk through the door, and a buzzer goes off. Things haven’t changed much since the last time I was here; it’s still as small as ever. The cramped, dusty shelves are lined with Spanish groceries and a small variety of fresh produce. Still sitting on the bottom right-hand shelf is my favorite, Cola Champagne soda. That brings a smile to my face. As my eyes scan the store, I notice how everything is worn down and in need of repair; from the stained ceiling tiles to the cracked flooring underneath my feet.

  “Pablo! Que Paso?” I yell.

  “Que?” an old Hispanic man appears from the back room. Time hasn’t been kind to Pablo. His hair is almost completely grey with just a few strands of black running through it. You can tell he combs it over to one side trying to hide the bald spot on the top of his head. Deep wrinkles run over his brow and around his mouth. His plain white T-shirt is a few sizes too small and the jeans he’s wearing need to be washed. As he walks toward the front of the store, I notice that he now walks with a cane and a limp. The young playboy I remember is all but gone.

  “Gabriel?” he inquires, squinting his eyes as if unsure of who I am.

  “Si,” I confirm in Spanish.

  “It has been so many years,” his accent is still as thick as ever. Laughing, he grabs me into a bear hug.

  “I know,” I say regretfully, “time just got away.”

  “What are you doing down here? The last I heard, you were a big time boxer.”

  “I’m taking Salem to the fiestas patronales,” my hand touches her back lightly while pulling her forward, closer to Pablo and me. Just that slight contact with her makes me want to touch her more. “Salem, I’d like you to meet, Pablo. He got me out of quite a few jams when I was a kid.”

  “Que pedacito más delicioso,” Pablo says in a low growl as he looks Salem up and down.

  Indignant, Salem replies, “Mire viejo pendejo. A usted ya ni se le para!”

  I burst out laughing at her response. Did she really just tell him he could no longer get it up? God, I love her feistiness! I can tell Pablo’s in complete shock at Salem’s words, and for that matter, so am I.

  “I didn’t know you speak Spanish.” Law school and Spanish? Man, the surprises just keep coming with her. I wonder if she has any other hidden talents.

  “You never asked,” giving me a side smile, she’s looking totally satisfied with herself.

  “Please accept my apology for being so rude,” Pablo manages to sputter out. He’s taken aback at Salem’s comeback and can’t even look her in the eyes.

  “Mmmm,” Salem crosses her arms. “Te gustaría más si fuera una blanca estúpida que no supiera Español?”

  “No, I don’t think you are a stupid white girl, and you speak Spanish very well,” he answers quietly, his voice full of regret and embarrassment.

  The three of us stand in awkward silence for a few moments, not knowing what to say. Pablo finally breaks the silence by asking Salem, “So, have you ever been to the fiestas patronales before?” he’s trying to smooth things over with her.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “You are in for a good time, lots of great food, music, and dancing. Gabriel, make sure you have her try pastelillos de guayaba y queso.”

  “I will Pablo, I will. Any chance we can leave her car parked here?” I ask, looking out the front door to her car.

  “Yeah, sure. It will be safe here. I will keep an eye on it.”

  “Thanks,” I extend my arm for a handshake, but he pushes it away and hugs me once again.

  “It was really great to see you again,” Pablo says, “don’t stay away so long next time.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. It was tough after…” I swallow hard. This is the first time in close to five years that I’ve been to my old neighborhood.

  “I know Gabriel, I know,” his voice is solemn. “You will probably run into Jason at the festival.”

  “Really?” I can’t help but be curious about my brother. I know he’s using again, and I really don’t need his shit in my life, but I can’t help but be concerned for him. He’s my little brother, and I was supposed to watch out for him. Unfortunately, I failed.

  “Yeah, he has been coming around again.”

  “When’s the last time you saw him?”

  “A few days ago and he wasn’t looking too good.”

  I lower my head, shaking it. “I was hoping he got off the dope.”

  “I’m sorry to say, but by the looks of him, he is still using. These streets are filled with dope fiends, gangbangers, and delinquents,” he sighs heavily, and his gaze is vacant as he looks out the window. “Times have changed, and not for the better. You are lucky you got out when you did.”

  Time to change the subject before he scares the shit out of Salem. “Well, we’re gonna head out,” my hand touches my stomach as it growls, “I’m starving.” Since my fight is over, I’m not on a special diet anymore, which means I can indulge all I want. I can’t wait to eat some real Puerto Rican food.

  Pablo blinks rapidly, shaking off the blank stare, and smiles. “It was nice to meet you, Miss Salem.”

  “It was nice to meet you too,” she responds as we begin to walk towards the door. Salem stops and turns back to Pablo, “The next time a pretty white girl walks in, you better be sure she doesn’t speak Spanish.” She laughs.

  “Ah, Gabriel, you got a firecracker on your hands. Esta pica!”

  “That I do,” I smile, looking down at her.

  “Who’s Jason?” Salem asks me as we walk down the sidewalk.

  “He’s my brother,” I respond, trying to hide the sadness in my voice

  “And you haven’t seen him in a while?”

  “Nah,” I’m trying to keep it simp
le and avoid going into much detail. There’s no reason she needs to know anything about what my life used to be; only what it is now, and where it’s going. I’m afraid that if she learns too much, she’ll run. Why would a beautiful rich girl want a guy from the streets? Especially one whose father murdered his mother. I can just see all of her rich friends now, “Oh, my God, you’re dating the son of a murderer?! How scandalous!” But, I guess I’m letting my imagination run a little wild since we’re not actually dating. Hell, this isn’t even a date. It’s the payout on a bet that I won, even if she thinks it was rigged, but I won it nonetheless. She was practically forced to be here with me.

  “And why is that?”

  “It’s a really long story, and I don’t want to bore you with it.”

  “Why would it bore me?”

  “It’s just not something I want to talk about, okay?”

  “Sure, if that’s what you want,” her voice has a touch of aggravation in it.

  Taking her hand, I stop her from walking any further. I lift my fingers up to her face, brushing her hair away from her eyes, “Today is a day for both of us to forget all of our drama and just have fun.”

  A smile appears, her blue eyes sparkling in the sun, and I melt. I grow more and more attached with every moment that I spend with her. Although she has a tough exterior, I’ve seen her fragile side, which makes me want to protect her that much more. We’re nose to nose, and I wrap my arms around her, pulling her closer. She’s intoxicating to me; her scent, her lips, her eyes, and the way our breathing is in sync. As my face inches closer to hers, I’m fighting with myself not to kiss her because I know that once I start, I won’t be able to stop. I’ll want more than just an innocent kiss. I’ll want all of her.

  Just at the moment my lips touch hers, someone yells from a car passing by, “Slip her the tongue!”

  Each of us takes a step back, and we begin to laugh when the car’s horn honks as it goes down the street. A look of relief is on Salem’s face. Would she have actually let me kiss her?

  “Come on, I’m starving,” I take her hand and we walk to the festival.

  Once we arrive, I’m surprised to see how much the festival has grown. The last time I was here, I was only seven or eight. It now has rides, games, small booths for people selling homemade crafts, and even animals. We walk up and down the main part of the festival. Each side is lined with food vendors, and the air is filled with delicious scents. It reminds me of my abuela’s cooking. On the menus, I see bacalaítos, sorullos, empanadillas, rellenos de papa, and alcapurrias. My stomach growls, “Anything look good to you?”

  “I’m not really sure what any of it is.”

  “I’ll help you,” I smile. “Do you like rice?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you like pork?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you’re going to be just fine,” I laugh, pulling her towards a food tent.

  “Can we please have two orders of arroz y gandules y lechón?”

  “Two?” she questions.

  “Yeah, one for me and one for you.”

  “What if I don’t like it?”

  “You’re going to like it, I promise,” I touch the tip of her nose with my index finger, “and if you don’t, I’ll eat it. We also need to make sure we save room for pastelillos de guayaba y queso, they’re my favorite!” I raise my eyebrows at her.

  “If you say so,” she sighs, unsure of it all.

  “Can you also add two Cola Champagnes to my order, please?”

  “Two what?” she wrinkles up her nose.

  “Cola Champagne, it tastes like crème soda.”

  “Okay…” she looks lost.

  “Here, you take the sodas,” I hand her the two bottles, “and I’ll take the plates.” Using my head, I motion for her to follow me, “Let’s go find a place to sit and eat.”

  She walks next to me, absorbing all of the surroundings. Everyone around us is sporting Puerto Rican flag T-shirts, hats, and bandanas; you name it; they’re wearing it. The kids even have balloons with the flag on it. She looks uncomfortable. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. The last thing I want is for her to feel out of place.

  “Let’s sit here, it looks like one of the bands is going to start soon.” Directly in front of us, there’s a small stage with about seven men assembling their instruments. I let her sit first, placing her plate in front of her, then I take a seat right beside her so that I can be close.

  “Do you know how to Salsa?” I ask.

  “No, I don’t. But I’ve always wanted to learn. I asked Blaine to take lessons with me, but he said no,” the corners of her mouth turn down into a slight frown.

  “No need to take lessons, I can teach you.”

  “You can?” her face lights up.

  “Of course I can! I’m Puerto Rican; it’s in my blood. Once the band starts playing, and people start dancing, we’ll go out there.”

  “Okay,” she agrees with excitement.

  I begin to scarf down my food like I haven’t eaten in months, which is partially true, since I’ve been training for nearly eight weeks preparing for my fight.

  “Do you like it?” I ask with my mouth full of food.

  “Yes,” she laughs.

  “Why are you laughing?”

  “Because you have rice on your cheek.”

  “On my cheek? How did that get there?” I brush off my left cheek with the back of my hand.

  “It’s still there,” she smiles. “Here, let me get it,” she closes in on my face with her hand, lightly brushing my cheek. My eyes close at her touch and my head tips towards her. I sigh heavily, “Salem.”

  “Yes, Gabriel?” she asks softly.

  My eyes spring open at the realization that I actually said her name out loud. Her hand slowly drops from my face to my leg. I swallow hard, trying to convince myself that kissing her is not the right thing to do, although it’s something I want to do more than anything else. My gaze connects with hers at that moment, and the feelings in her eyes match mine, longing and desire.

  “I’m going to kiss you,” I whisper, licking my bottom lip.

  She nods her head, “I wish you would.”

  I slowly bring my lips to hers until we finally connect. The tip of my tongue lightly touches hers, teasing it, and she lets out a staggered sigh. My hand reaches around, cupping the back of her head, and gently pull her into me. Our tender kiss becomes more desperate as our tongues dance into each other’s mouths. The kiss continues until she pulls away to catch her breath. Her eyes are staring at me wantonly and her face is flushed with passion.

  “Salem, please don’t pull away from me,” I lean my forehead against hers.

  Her hands cup my cheeks. “I’m not sure if I can do this,” her voice shakes.

  “Do what? Kiss me?”

  She nods, closing her eyes.

  “Look at me, Salem.”

  She lowers her head, shaking it.

  “I can’t explain what’s between us. All I know is, you’re all I think about. Hell, I even dream about you. I just can’t get you out of my head.”

  She slowly lifts her head, bringing her eyes to mine.

  “Please, tell me you feel it,” my hands begin to shake. This is the first time I’ve ever expressed my feelings to a woman. Not to mention, she’s the first woman I’ve ever had feelings for. I’m putting it all out on the line for her.

  “Gabriel,” her voice is faint and her lip begins to quiver, “I do feel it, but I have a…” her eyes search my face. “Blaine,” escapes her lips.

  Her saying his name crushes me. I’m not sure what I was expecting her response to be. It isn’t like I don’t know she has a boyfriend. But I guess I was hoping she’d say, “To hell with Blaine,” that she’d remember last night and how badly he’d hurt her that she has the same feelings for me as I do for her. I stand and back away from her as my heart shatters into a thousand pieces. I look away, trying to hide from her the pain that is on my face; it’s the
same I’m feeling in my heart.

  “Gabriel, I’m sorry,” she says, touching my arm.

  I nudge her hand off my arm. “Salem, please, I can’t,” and I turn to leave.

  “You can’t what? Listen to what I have to say?” she reaches out, grabbing my hand and squeezing it tightly.

  “I heard what you had to say. You said you have Blaine,” I say through clenched teeth.

  She quickly stands up next to me, “Yes, I do have Blaine.”

  I wince. Her words hurt just as much this time as they did the first time.

  She continues on, “I’m only going to hurt you, Gabriel. I can’t give you everything you want.”

  “And how do you know what I want?” I’m trying so hard to hide the anger and the hurt.

  “I could tell from our first meeting. You didn’t think I could see how you looked at me?” she inches her body closer to mine.

  I exhale heavily, I can’t handle her being this close to me right now; not if we can’t be together. I take another step back.

  “How protective you were over me last night? I knew it was more than just lust. I should’ve never agreed to come here with you today,” her eyes are filled with agony, “but I couldn’t say no, Gabriel. I feel it too. I wish I didn’t, but I do!” she looks away, avoiding eye contact with me.

  “It doesn’t have to be more than what we want it to be, Salem,” I step into her and bury my face into her hair, whispering in her ear.

  “God, Gabriel, you’re making this so hard,” she lowers her forehead onto my shoulder as she wraps her arms around my body, hugging me.

  “I don’t mean to,” I caress her back lightly, “but it just feels right with you in my arms.”

  “I know,” she sighs.

  I look up to see people on the makeshift dance floor. “Look, people are dancing,” I smile to lighten the mood. A crowd of people has already gathered, and the band begins to play their first song.

  My feet move to the beat of the music and she looks at me strangely, “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m dancing,” I tease her. I take her hands, raising them into the air, while I take a step forward then backward, moving my hips to the beat.