“Robin!” I hissed, when I shut the bedroom door. “Why didn’t you tell me that they were coming? That they were here? Why the secrecy?”
He looked uncomfortable. “They wanted to see just me.”
“Then why would they come to our apartment, where I also live?”
Robin put his hand down the back of my underwear and squeezed my butt. “You’re so hot. Do you think they would hear us if we—”
“Robin!”
“I didn’t think you’d be home. I didn’t see you in the kitchen when I left. You’re always gone so early.”
I froze. “What time is it?”
I ran through the living room, pulling on clothes, yelling goodbye to Robin’s parents. Then I ran out to the sidewalk, buttoning my shirt, trying to call a cab or order a car, something to get me to campus so I could take my test. By the time I got there, heart pounding, mouth dry, chest heaving, they were already 45 minutes in. I had to beg and plead with the teacher to please, please let me at least try to take it. She finally relented but I had less than half the time left. I sat and wrote furiously, trying to think, trying to focus. When she called time, I still had at least a third of the test left undone.
I had failed.
I walked out of the building into an unnaturally bright sun. The professor had been mildly sympathetic but mostly unbelieving when I explained after the test that I’d had a family emergency the night before and had slept in by mistake. I guessed I could get a note from the parole officer to convince her. Maybe when they caught Mikey, I could bring her his arrest report. But she did relent, and said she would allow me to do some make-up work, depending on how poorly I’d done.
I found myself wandering through the campus, feeling like absolute crap. My neck was still killing me and I had a pit the size of a cannonball in my stomach. I looked down and realized my shirt was buttoned wrong and I had on two different flipflops. And there was no word from my brother. Nothing.
My head was aching, too. Maybe I was coming down with something. I couldn’t remember feeling so bad, not for a long, long time.
∞
I smoothed down my new-to-me skirt nervously. I had left Benji’s early in order to have dinner with Robin and his parents before they went back down to Orange County. Robin had been gone all day with them and I had bagged on going to the dance studio and come home to try to take a nap. It had been unsuccessful and if possible, I felt worse than I had earlier. I was definitely coming down with something, and now Anouk was pissed at me, too.
I was meeting them at a restaurant, La Raillerie, a really fancy, famous place I had often read about, but I had never been. They liked to go there with Robin whenever they came into town; this was the first time I had been included in the invitation and I was looking forward to the food, if not the company. Cynthia and Brandon generally tried to spend as little time with me as possible, which I understood. There were obvious reasons why they wouldn’t like me. If I were Robin’s mom, I probably would have felt the same way.
The bus let me off a few blocks from the restaurant and I hurried down the street. Robin, Cynthia, and Brandon were already seated when I came in.
“Sorry,” I apologized. “The bus was late. They never keep to the schedules.”
“We’ve already ordered,” Cynthia greeted me.
“Did you get something for me?” I asked Robin, who looked confused.
“Oh, no. I didn’t think about you,” he told me. I signaled to a passing waitress and asked if she could add to the order, just to bring whatever Robin was having. I hoped he had picked something good.
“Robin tells us you hope to finally graduate, Maura,” Brandon said.
“Yes, I’ll finish in the spring. I know it’s taken a while, with me going only part-time. And then I’m planning to work in San Francisco, or somewhere close by.”
“That would be ideal for you to stay in the Bay Area,” Cynthia said, and nodded. I looked at her strangely. She wanted me to stay with Robin? This was news.
Brandon started talking to Robin about some sports thing and I watched Cynthia to see the proper way to handle the bread basket. The last time we had been out, she told Robin afterwards that my manners had been inexcusable. I had studied etiquette online but I didn’t want to mess anything up. She took out a roll, made with a sourdough starter from the Gold Rush times, and tore it in two. Then she took a bit of freshly churned, organic butter. I watched her delicately apply it to the bread. Our eyes met.
“Robin also tells us he is very close to completing his thesis,” she remarked. This was also news to me. “I know he spends a lot of his time dealing with your…issues, so we’re glad that he was able to focus on his own work. On his own life.”
I flushed. Just that one time, and she would never let me forget it. “I’ll be very glad when he finishes. I’ll be very proud.”
“And you definitely plan to get a job after you graduate, and to stay here.”
I carefully tore my roll in two, just as she had. “Cynthia, I work currently, now. I’m a nanny and I also do bookkeeping at a dance studio. And I tutor.”
She waved a hand. “Yes, but I mean, soon you’ll be able to support yourself, rather than Robin taking care of you.”
“I’ll have a full-time job in the spring,” I answered, controlling my temper.
“That’s good. Robin has been worrying about what you’ll do.”
“What do you mean?” I asked her. I looked up to see Brandon watching me. Robin was playing with his bread.
“Maura, Robin will be coming back with us to southern California tomorrow,” Brandon told me. “He’ll complete his thesis there.”
“What?”
“He’s coming home with us,” Cynthia explained loudly, also enunciating each word, as if I didn’t understand the language. “He’s giving up that terrible apartment and moving back home.”
“Robin?” I asked. “Is that what you’re doing? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want you to be upset,” he explained.
“The movers will come tomorrow, and we’ve sublet the apartment. You’ll need to remove any belongings you have there,” Cynthia said. She smiled. “It’s better to have a clean break.”
“You’re breaking up with me?” I asked her, then shook my head in confusion and turned to Robin. “I mean, you’re breaking up with me?” He shrugged, and kind of winced.
“It’s time to move on,” Brandon said. “Robin has wasted enough of his life. He’ll get his PhD, and we’ll get him working with me and his brothers.”
“This is what you want?” I asked, still staring at Robin. “You want to leave me, and go be a trash collector?”
“Brandon owns a waste management company, Maura!” Cynthia said angrily. “You’ve been nothing but a weight around my son’s neck, and it stops now! You’ll leave him alone and let him get on with his life.”
“Robin?” My voice was shaking.
“Sorry,” he told me. “I’m really sorry, Maura. This is for the best.”
The waitress started placing salads on our table, delicate portions of brightly-colored, sustainably-harvested vegetables artfully arranged on the plates.
Cynthia smiled at her. “This looks delicious! Robin, I’ll never forget this restaurant.”
I stood up and walked out, and walked all the way home. Which was ironic, because it wasn’t my home anymore. Robin wasn’t mine anymore.
But there was no point in dwelling on that. Dwelling never helped. All you could do was fix the problems that you could. Focus on the small things, like getting the rock out of your shoe. Like tightening the faucet so that it stopped dripping, when you were getting washed away in a flood. I stumbled on the sidewalk but pulled myself back together.
Robin didn’t come home that night. I tried to get in touch with him, but he didn’t respond. I was sure that Cynthia was keeping him close and away from me. Our landlord lived in one of the units in the main house and I confirmed with her that we were out.
New tenants were set to move in on Friday. Cynthia and Brandon had called her about subletting at least a month ago. It was funny to think that just the night before I had been planning a long life together with Robin. Funny how quickly things could change. Funny.
So I took my old suitcase out from under the bed and started folding my clothes. I tried to think about where I could go. As much money as I made, I knew I didn’t have enough for a security deposit and first and last months’ rent. A large portion of my paychecks had always gone to Mikey and his bills, his apartment. Wait—that was it. He was paid up through the end of the month, which I knew because I had written the check. I would go to Mikey’s place. I needed to clean it up, anyway, before his landlord realized he was gone and stole his stuff. Mikey would need his things when he came back from Mexico.
I looked around. Besides my clothes, I had some kitchen items I didn’t want to leave. Or rather, let Cynthia throw away. I had a lamp I had bought at the flea market in Alameda, a lot of books from my classes. I wasn’t going to be able to take it away all by myself. I needed a big car, and I needed someone to help me carry it all up the steps at Mikey’s.
“Can you help me move some boxes before class tomorrow?” I texted Iván at about one in the morning. “I’ll trade you a tutoring session to even it out.”
He was awake, too, and he answered that he’d be there at nine. I tried to make myself go to sleep and not do something terrible like clean the toilet with Robin’s toothbrush. Or cry, and cry, and cry.
“Thank you so much for helping me,” I told Iván when he pulled up carefully to the curb the next morning. Despite everything going on, I still appreciated that he took the time not to hit the garbage cans.
He looked very tired. I felt sorry for making him get up and help me, and I handed him a cup of coffee. I had made it as strong as I possibly could.
He sipped appreciatively then studied me. “Are you feeling all right?”
I knew I wasn’t looking my best. I hadn’t really slept well the night before.
“I’m fine. I only have a few boxes and some suitcases.” I had decided that Robin would be happy to give me his bags. It didn’t take us too long to load up Iván’s car. I sat on the steps after I did one last walk-through of our apartment. This was it. I was saying goodbye to our home. And to Robin.
Iván sat down next to me. “What are you doing with that stuff?”
“I’m moving,” I explained. “I’m moving into my brother’s apartment.”
“Wait, what’s happening? Maura, you didn’t explain this. Is your brother back? What about your boyfriend?”
“Mikey left. I don’t know when he’ll be back.” I blinked rapidly. “Robin and I are done. He’s moving back home to Orange County with his parents.”
“I’m sorry.” Iván put his arm around me, and I couldn’t help myself. I leaned against him and closed my eyes. How long had I known him? But he was the one who had shown up when I needed him. I kept my face turned to his chest, just for a moment more.
“Maura? Oh, I thought you would be gone already.”
Robin. I yanked myself away from Iván to see Robin with his parents. Behind them were some guys pushing hand trucks. They were all staring at us.
Cynthia looked at me like she smelled something bad. “That didn’t take her too long,” she commented. “She’s probably been carrying on behind your back the whole time,” she told her son.
“No, I haven’t.” I wiped my cheeks. “Robin, I didn’t do that. I wouldn’t do that. Iván and I are friends.”
Iván turned to stare at me. “This is your boyfriend?” He pointed at Robin. “Him?” he asked incredulously.
I ignored him and held out my hand to Robin. I had to try, just one more time. “Can you just think this over? You don’t have to do what your parents want. You can decide for yourself! We’ve been together for ten years, Robin. Please.”
He looked very uncomfortable. “Maura, they’re not going to give me any more money unless I come home,” he said in a stage whisper. “How am I supposed to live? I’m really sorry. You know how I feel about you. You’re so hot.”
Iván snorted and said something in Spanish that sounded like “hilly poyas.” He stood, pulling me with him. “Maura, vamos. We’re leaving.” He took my arm and we marched past Robin and his parents. Iván kind of cleared Robin off the path with his shoulder and Robin hopped back into the avocado tree. Somehow, I had never noticed before how small he was. I turned and looked over my shoulder as we got to the sidewalk, but the three of them, and the movers, were already inside.
Iván opened the car door for me and closed it, hard, then got in himself behind the wheel. “I need to ask…Maura, really? You, and that guy?”
My breath was getting stuck in my throat or something. “He’s not that bad,” I gasped, and Iván turned to look at me.
“Hey, ok. I’m sorry. Maura, I’m sorry.” He started to wipe at my cheeks with his thumbs and I realized I was crying. I leaned away and forced myself back under control. No use in dwelling. Time to move on.
“Do you remember where my brother’s apartment was? Can you drive me there, please?”
Iván started the car and pulled away, jaw clenched. I could tell that he was angry, and also that he was putting forth a genuine effort to drive carefully. He stopped for a red light at least four car lengths before the intersection and never went above 40, not even on the freeway.
“How old is he?” Iván broke the silence. “How much older than you?”
I knew what he was asking. “Robin is thirty-five,” I hedged.
“And you?”
“Twenty-five.”
“And you met ten years ago, you said. You were fifteen.”
He could do the math and see the legality of that situation. “I was almost sixteen.” Iván turned to stare at me. “It wasn’t like that,” I defended myself. Defended Robin. “He saved me, Iván.”
“Explain this to me, please. I want to understand. Or I want to go back to that terrible house and beat him.” From the look on his face, I thought that he might.
I drew in a ragged breath. “I was in high school, and Robin was a student teacher. He was going to be a teacher, then. He was getting his master’s degree and he was really nice to me. He helped me in school when I was having trouble. Then I was going to get kicked out of the house I was fostering in. It doesn’t matter why.” I closed my eyes for a second, remembering how I’d shoved a chair under the handle of the door to the bedroom that three of us girls had shared in that house. “They were going to send me to a group home. Iván, it was…awful. I was so scared. So, so scared. Robin let me come live with him. He got it all okayed, legally. I didn’t have anywhere else to go, and he gave me a home. Like, the first real bedroom that was mine. He took me to restaurants, he bought me clothes. I got to stay there for three years. I owe him a lot. I see how it looks, but it wasn’t like that. You don’t understand.”
Iván was muttering under his breath in Spanish. I tapped his shoulder gently. “Iván?”
“I understand very well,” he told me. His voice sounded hoarse. “Can you tell me now, where this brother was at the time?”
“Mikey was eighteen and already out of the system. They didn’t keep us together after the first few years. I think he was in MCJ when I moved in with Robin. Anyway, I couldn’t find him.”
“MCJ? What is that?”
“Men’s Central Jail.” I swallowed. “In LA. He moved up here a few years later, and Robin was wanting to get his doctorate. I kind of pushed for Robin to come here so I could be near my brother. See, I was using him—”
“Maura, please!” he interrupted sharply.
I sat back in my seat and looked out the window.
“Where is your brother now?” Iván asked, his voice softer.
“I think he’s in Mexico,” I said. “I think. That’s where he said he was going.” I stared hard at the concrete wall of the freeway. “He’s on parole, so it’s a big deal.
He wasn’t allowed to leave. I would have helped him.” I wiped away more tears. “He just left.”
Iván didn’t answer. We drove the rest of the way to Mikey’s apartment without saying a word.
He didn’t understand.
Chapter 5
“See you Thursday! Let me know what to bring.”
Joana smiled at me. “Just bring yourself. I’ve tasted your cooking.” I had subbed in for dinner once or twice, and it was true; the results were less than impressive.
I laughed and walked outside. It definitely got colder up here than in LA and I zipped up my coat. I still wasn’t used to a Bay Area November.
Even if she told me not to bring anything for Thanksgiving dinner, I still wanted to. I was really excited to go to Joana’s daughter’s house for a giant family celebration. Every year I had tried to make a big deal out of it when Mikey came over, but somehow it had never gone as I had planned. He and Robin hadn’t gotten along, and someone (usually Mikey) had always ended up drinking too much. Now I thought that I would look up some recipes and bring something traditional—but it had to be something that could be made on the stovetop, since Mikey’s oven didn’t work. The burners were actually a little temperamental, too.
Maybe flowers would be better. It wasn’t worth it to get the appliances fixed, if the landlord would be willing to pay anyway, because I was in the waning days of living Mikey’s apartment. I had stayed for one extra month because Mikey—well, because I—had paid first, last, and security when he had moved in and I wanted to get my money’s worth.
I hadn’t heard from my brother. The last time I texted him, someone else answered, saying she had the number now, and could I tell the parole people too? She added a smiley face.
I steeled myself for the long ride home. It was much, much farther on the bus to Mikey’s place from Benji’s house rather than back to my old apartment. And it would have been much, much faster if I took the BART, the train running mostly underground. I had tried. It was a no go for me. I still had enough trouble on the stupid bus.
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