Bad Idea

by Nicole French

  “Shit, it’s my mom,” he mutters, and swings his legs off the bed to get up while he answers the call. “She wanted me to go to Mass with her tonight since I skipped this morning. Hold on, baby.”

  Watching him babble in quick-tongued Spanish, I’m struck again by just how dedicated he is to his family, and how much they appear to take advantage of that. I’ve only barely met Gabe, but even he seemed to take for granted his brother’s continued generosity. Paying his sister’s rent and his brother’s tuition, doing his mother’s errands and taking her to church. Why does Nico have to shoulder all of these burdens? When does he get to follow his own dreams?

  I suddenly feel guilty for coming down so hard on him last night; it’s clear they all take up more of his time than they should.

  That’s when my second epiphany of the day hits me. I love this man. And because I love him, I know that he deserves more than just me.

  Nico says goodbye to his mother and sets his phone down on my desk. He turns around to find me watching him. Damn. Damn, oh damn me and my mother’s giant eyes that show everything I’m thinking.

  “What’s with the glum face, sweetie?” Nico asks.

  He tugs the curtain back in place and slides back under the comforter to cover me with his body. He’s still warm, and oh, his skin feels so good on mine. For a second I’m tempted to slip my hands farther down his body and start an encore round of what we just did on the couch. From the look in his eyes, I’d guess he’s thinking the same thing.

  “Let’s turn that frown upside down,” he rumbles, and starts nibbling on my earlobe in that way he knows drives me crazy. So when I don’t respond, he pulls his head up, his eyes wide and perplexed. “Hey. What’s wrong, sweetie?”

  His lips are so close, and all I want is to pull them back down to me, to make him kiss me everywhere, devour me in that way only he can do that makes us both stop thinking. Damn, this is going to be hard.

  “You…you should go to LA,” I say, my voice small and uncertain. As soon as it’s out, I hate it, but I know it’s the right thing.

  Nico’s eyebrows furrow, and he purses his lips. This is definitely not what he was expecting. “What?”

  “You—” I stop to clear my throat, which has suddenly become inexplicably clogged. “You should go to LA,” I repeat.

  He rolls off to one side so his back is against the wall, keeping one arm draped over my stomach. With his fingers, he toys with my navel and traces the lines of my hipbones. We lie here for a moment in silence, digesting the words I’ve just thrown out there. Finally, Nico takes a deep breath.

  “Why?”

  I take a deep breath. I have to get through this without crying. I know I can do it. Because I love him.

  “Because. I see what you mean now, about how your family depends on you, too much, really. You deserve a chance to try on your own, just like I have. You deserve a chance to start fresh and figure out what you really want in life.”

  “Yeah, but I already told you, Layla. I want you.”

  It’s an offering, not so much a defense, an argument he seems to be making as much to himself as he is to me. As if I’m supposed to feel better about it, or maybe he’s looking for me to insist on him staying again. Moving across the country alone is definitely daunting—I know, having done it. But I just give him a weak smile and trace a finger down his nose.

  “I know you do,” I say quietly. “But we’ve only been dating, what, a few months? I hate to say it, but it’s not enough to keep you here. I l—”

  I cut myself off before those three dangerous words slip out of my mouth, words certain to put my heart out there to be trampled. Words that, more importantly, might make him feel like he has to stay. Think, Layla!

  “I just know you need to do this,” I say instead. “I can see it.”

  “And…what about us, though?”

  A crease forms in between his eyebrows, and I feel his grip on my waist tighten a little. I shake my head and push a hand into my hair meditatively. We both know the answer to that. I started school with a “boyfriend” back home with whom I actually tried to make something work from thousands of miles away. It was a naïve fairy tale, one that only fifteen-year-olds believe in. I always went into it thinking it might work out—after all, we promised to email every day, call, all of that. But after a month or so it always petered out—we’d lose interest, or someone would “accidentally” hook up with someone new. There was a little heartache, although nothing to what I’d feel if I ever found out Nico did something like that. No, if there is one thing I’m absolutely sure of, it’s that long distance relationships never work.

  “We’ll just enjoy the next few weeks together,” I say much more optimistically than I feel. I have to, since I’m sure my despair is completely obvious on my face. “Do you think you can wait until I go home for the summer too? Then, you know, it will feel like we’re both leaving, and not just you.”

  Nico worries his bottom lip with his teeth for a second. “Are you sure about this, Layla? Because I meant it. I’ll stay if you want me to.”

  I take a deep breath, fighting the urge to say, “Never mind.” But what do they say? If you love something, set it free? In my heart, I know this is right, even if it means I’m going to lose him in a few more weeks. I love him, and I can’t be the reason he holds himself back.

  “I’m sure,” my voice creaks. “I’m sure.”

  He presses his forehead against mine, pulling me close to him so that our bodies line up together. I can feel him twitching against my thigh, already gearing up for round two. But his eyes are solemn.

  “You really are amazing,” he says.

  I close my eyes because I know if they’re open, he’ll see the way his words just completely broke my heart. He wants to go; deep down, he’s wanted it this entire time.

  I pull him in for a kiss so he can’t see the pain that I know writes itself clearly across my face. His kiss can erase everything, and I feel the unspoken love there as my mouth opens to his. I welcome him as he rolls me over onto my back, pushing my legs open to him. He’ll be ready again soon, but for now I’m content to bask in the sweet attention of his lips, keeping him close so he can’t see the few errant tears slip down my cheeks. I want him to make slow love to me until I can’t feel anything else but his touch, so that I can forget, if just for a few minutes, that I’ve just told the man whom I am increasingly learning to need like air and water that he should leave me. I’ll take every single moment with him I can get, because soon, I’m going to lose him for good.

  ~

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Nico

  “I like this one. It looks like something Batman would drive.”

  Gabe stands next to a shiny sports car, a Mitsubishi Eclipse. I scowl.

  “Maybe if Batman were a fourteen-year-old girl,” I say. “I just need something that’s going to get me around. Small. Easy to park. Cheap and won’t break.”

  “You sound like a soccer mom, Nico,” my little brother says as he wistfully draws a hand over the top of the black sports car.

  It’s such a weird thing to be doing––shopping for a car. I’m a New Yorker, born and bred. I only got my license when I decided to apply to FedEx; I’m the only one in my family who even has one. There’s no point to it in a city like this.

  But now, things are different. Three weeks ago, Layla told me to go to LA, and even though I could tell it killed her to say it, at the same time, that metal band that had been slowly tightening around my chest disappeared. It’s not like I won’t carry the same burdens. I’ll still pay for the apartment for Maggie and Allie, still keep up with Ma’s rent. I’ll still be calling back to make sure Gabe is helping Ma around the house. But for the first time in my life, I’m going to be something else than what this city and everyone in it expects of me. I’ll be free.

  And it’s a great feeling, so long as I don’t think too hard about the one person I wish I could take with me. Layla hasn’t said a word about i
t since that night. We’ve gone on like we always do, dates on Fridays, maybe sneaking dinner or lunch during the week, seeing each other at work for a few minutes everyday until yesterday, when we both served our last days on the job––Layla only while she takes the summer off, but me for good. Her semester’s done, and I turned in my uniform to FedEx last night. Layla’s flying home tonight. I’ve got one last shift at AJ’s, and then I’ll be driving out to California tomorrow.

  But first I need a car.

  “This one has low mileage,” I say as I look over a maroon Toyota Camry. “It’s not flashy, but I don’t want to spend my entire paycheck on fuckin’ gas money.”

  Gabe looks the car over with a frown that practically falls off his face. “You’re gonna look like a soccer mom too. You planning to make some babies out there? Should we go stroller shopping?” He nudges me in the ribs. “Jessie know about your plans, man?”

  I rub the back of my neck. Jessie isn’t someone I want to think about right now. After I told K.C. that I was coming out to LA for sure, he started talking. Which also means everyone else in LA knows I’m coming too. Which means Jessie knows.

  Two days after that, I got the new hire paperwork in the mail from the club where I’ll be working. A week ago, I signed the year-long contract and sent it back to LA. Everything I own is either boxed up or shoved into duffel bags. This is really happening.

  “Come on,” Gabe says as he elbows me. “You telling me that a car like this is going to impress a fuckin’ model?”

  He makes it sound like Jessie is some big deal, but the truth is, she’s only done a little catalog work and mostly just waits tables and does promotional appearances for a living. We met last year when I was visiting K.C.––she was one of the go-go dancers at a club where he was spinning. But to a kid like Gabe, the only woman hotter than Jessie is J. Lo. She’s blonde, tan, has legs for days. And yeah, okay, we hooked up while I was out there for a few weeks. And again when I went back in December.

  But I still haven’t taken her calls in months––not since Valentine’s Day, to be exact. I can’t even remember what she looks like anymore. It’s hard to get excited about this move when I’m walking away from a pair of bright blue eyes that can see into my soul. A body that was made for my touch. A heart that feels like it’s my other half.

  I shake my head. No, I can’t be thinking like this again. Layla told me to go. This is what she wants to do. A part of me has known from the beginning that this wasn’t ever going to work out. As much as I care about her, we come from two different worlds. She knows it too. I can see it in the way she hedges about me when her dad calls and asks about the guy in the hospital. The way she checks out the crumbled bricks of my building and the stains on the lobby floor. I don’t know what she’d do if I ever brought her back to the apartment where I grew up. Brazilian last name or not, my mother and my sisters have already labeled her la blanquita.

  “Did you ever think of just asking her to go with you?”

  I look up from the Camry. “Who?”

  Gabe rolls his eyes. It’s one of the things we both do exactly the same. “Who do you think, man? Maggie? Ma?”

  I mirror his expression, and then cross my arms. I don’t want to admit how many times I’ve thought about it. How many times the words almost fell out of my mouth. “I...yeah. No.” I shake my head and rub my face. I need to shave. “Why do you ask?”

  “Well, if I had a supermodel waiting for me to make a real woman out of her on the beach...” Gabe mimics like he’s giving it to a girl doggy-style.

  “Coño, stop! You look like an idiot.”

  I smack him in the shoulder, more because he looks stupid than because I’m embarrassed. Gabe brags a lot about girls, but I’m pretty sure my little brother is still a virgin. First of all, his hands are in completely the wrong place when he does that.

  Gabe laughs. “All I’m saying is, I’d be a little more excited to meet her on the beach, Nico.”

  Then he looks at me sadly, with a face that says more than he wants to admit. I know why he’s here. He won’t say anything, but Gabe wants me to stay too. Now he’s going to be the only man in the family, the youngest, surrounded by the crazy women in our family. And I feel guilty too for leaving him. To tell the truth, I’m not sure how he’s going to handle college and living with Maggie and Allie. I have a feeling I’m going to be making a lot of phone calls to get him to do his homework.

  “Yeah, well...” I say, suddenly really interested in the trunk of the Camry. “Jessie’s fine, but she’s not––”

  “NYU?” Gabe says it right after I cut myself off.

  I sigh and shut the trunk. “Yeah. Well.”

  Gabe leans on the top of the car and stares me down. We may not look a lot alike, but we both have our mom’s eyes, the ones that can stare a hole through you.

  “Fuck, man, stop!” I finally say. “I’m not going to ask her to do that, all right?”

  “Why the fuck not? You obviously want to. I saw you two. She’s crazy about you, and you’re obviously into her. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “Gabe, she moved to New York because she wanted to be here,” I say flatly. “Layla’s smart. What am I going to do, ask her to trade NYU for community college while I try out a different life? Let her sit at home while I’m gone every weekend at K.C.’s gigs?” I shake my head. “I don’t even know what’s going to happen to me out there. She’s too good for that life. She’s too good for me.”

  There they are. The words I haven’t ever said out loud, the words I’ve always known. But they’re true. Her parents may not give her much to spend, but Layla comes from money. She comes from a nice house, a nice family, a safe neighborhood, not a shitty one-bedroom apartment full of kids with different daddies on a block where gunshots were just part of the background noise.

  Until now, these differences didn’t seem so bad. Layla still thinks they don’t mean anything. But I see where she’s going. In two more years, she’ll be done with school, moving on to law school or a career that will surround her with more people just like her. People with means. People with direction.

  Gabe just looks at me with big, sad eyes, like he sees the thoughts going through my head. And because he can’t dispute them––he knows what we are just as well as I do––he says nothing. Not for the first time, I think I might be doing the wrong thing. Gabe has a chance to break this shitty cycle, better than the rest of us. I’ve been riding his ass for years to get the grades he has. I hope he’ll be able to do as well without me around.

  “Do you want to test drive anything?”

  A salesman has approached us in the lot. I tip the bill of my hat up and rub my forehead. Gabe scowls at the Camry. I swallow. This move feels shitty enough without doing it in a soccer mom’s car. I look around the lot, and nothing seems inspiring. Until I see the exact car I want, sitting in a corner with the exact amount I have in my budget.

  “Yeah,” I say with a smile. “That one. I’ll test drive the Wrangler.”

  Gabe looks to where I’m pointing at the soft-top Jeep, and with a whoop, follows me and the salesman to the car. It’s a terrible car for New York. But for LA, with the constant sunshine, with music blasting out the open roof, this car is perfect. And if I’m going to do this, I might as well do it right.

  ~

  Three hours later, I’ve just dropped Gabe off at my apartment––well, his apartment now––and I’m driving back downtown to pick up Layla. I’ve never driven a car in New York, only the FedEx truck. The weather is nice today, so I took off the canopy. With wind blowing and my stereo blasting while I cruise down the Westside highway, I’m feeling good.

  The station changes, and the piano riffs shift over to the newest single from Alicia Keys. At first I go to change the station––it’s not really the kind of music I usually like. But I leave it on, because there’s some nostalgic value in it today. Alicia and I didn’t run in the same circles––she’s a few years younger than me–�
�but I remember seeing her around the neighborhood when we were growing up. My younger sister, Selena, knew her a little back when she was still Alicia Cook. The music is a reminder that things can change. Already Hell’s Kitchen is becoming a place where investment bankers move instead of new immigrants. Alicia’s music proves that some people from this place can become something different than just another kid from the block.

  Suddenly, the world feels a little lighter. The wind blowing around me is warm. The trees lining the highway are full of bright green leaves.

  Maybe anything is possible after all.

  ~

  Layla

  The loud scratch of packing tape fills the room as Quinn closes the last box of her things. Mine are stacked in a corner, ready to be taken to the storage facility we’re all sharing. Jamie and Shama already left for New Jersey yesterday morning, and Quinn and I have been eating out of takeout containers while we wait for her train this afternoon. I’ll see our boxes are picked up by the storage center before I’m the last to go on a red-eye flight tonight. Nico wanted to take me to the airport, but he was offered double to do security for a big event at AJ’s––his last before he leaves for LA tomorrow anyway.

  I told him not to worry about it. I know he could use the money for his trip across the country. And that’s true, but the real reason is that I’m not sure I can take a teary goodbye at the airport. I’m not sure I can even handle it on a crowded sidewalk this afternoon.

  “Well, that’s it.” Quinn comes to sit next to me on my mattress. The cheap vinyl squeaks under our weight. She wraps a thin arm around me and pulls my head onto her shoulder. “You okay?”

  I know what she’s talking about. I’m going to miss her this summer––I’ll miss all of my roommates––but I’ll see them again in a few months when we move into a new dorm on Union Square. We’ll pick up right where we left off, just like this year. So this isn’t really goodbye. Not for us, anyway.