I’m amazed Eva keeps Diego to a half hour. Jude and I used to rot our brains for hours watching wrestling and cartoons. And the Brady Bunch. For some reason, Jude had a thing for Marcia.
I grab the loops of Eva’s jeans and pull her toward me, hip to hip. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
Her smile is shy. That’s one I don’t see on her often, so I kiss her mouth to capture it.
“You got it bad,” she says.
I kiss her again. She can tease me all she wants, but she’s the one chasing my tongue now. It’s her hands sliding down to my ass.
She pulls back and shakes her head. “Diego’s right in there.”
I take my hands off of her. “Please tell me we’re going to get a night together s-soon. I’m about to spontaneously combust. The other day I put salt in the sugar c-container at work.”
She covers her smile with her hand. “I know. Soon, I promise.”
These past couple weeks have felt like high school all over again. The frustration of grabbing time with a girl wherever and whenever you could, but never having enough of her. Eva and I might as well be hiding behind the bleachers at school.
I lean forward and kiss her neck, sliding her hair back for easy access.
She exhales so loudly, it’s almost a moan. “Oh God, don’t. You’re making my nipples hard.”
“Don’t say that to me,” I whisper, putting one hand on her breast, which she knocks away.
I take a breath to clear my head.
“I know you’re t-trying to ease Diego into this. But if I’m coming to your family’s house, shouldn’t you t-tell him we’re more than friends? I want to s-spend more time with you. Outside. In d-daylight.”
Instead of settling for long talks and makeout sessions on her back porch under the cover of night. Not that those aren’t great. “And I want the three of us to do things t-together, too.”
“You’re right,” she says. “I don’t know if he’ll totally understand, but I’ll tell him.”
“We should g-go somewhere fun.”
“Like the zoo?”
“Yes. Somewhere he’d l-like.”
She becomes preoccupied with the green pencil on the table. “I don’t want him to feel like I’m replacing Marco.”
Maybe Diego will feel that way, maybe he won’t. What worries me is that she’s so quick to make that assumption. Is that how she sees me? Like a stand-in for someone else? I know she doesn’t love Marco anymore, but maybe she’s not over the memory of the family they could have been.
I step back. “Whatever you think is b-best. I’m not going to f-force it.”
She grabs my hand. “This has all been lightning fast. And I can’t afford to be stupid or make mistakes. If it were just me . . .”
Man, this parenting thing is a steep learning curve, because she’s right: I was worrying about my own feelings, while she was putting Diego’s first.
“I get it. Diego’s the p-priority. But it’s too late to pretend we’re not d-diving in head first. Shouldn’t we m-make it as natural as possible for him to help him g-get used to the idea?”
She nods. “You could be right.”
“It’ll be f-fun.”
I hope.
* * *
The image of me holding Diego’s hand as we walk through the zoo, or putting him on my shoulders, or buying him an ice cream, stays in my mind as I finish up my paper.
I never used to play the “what if” game, but ever since I saw my father, I can’t stop wondering how my life would have been different if I’d had a dad. If he’d stayed in the picture he could have taken custody of us when Mom died. Would Jude’s life have been easier? Would mine?
It may be disloyal to Jude to feel this way because he did the best he could to fill our dad’s shoes, but the idea has taken hold like a termite gnawing through wood.
Inside my wallet is the business card my father gave me, along with the one dollar bill he threw in the tip jar. They’re both creased from the numerous times I’ve examined and handled them.
I pull out the card and run my thumb over my cell phone, the cracked screen pricking my skin. I stare at the tiny cracks that spread and narrow as they reach the edge of the phone.
Excuses flood through my mind. Of course he doesn’t want to see me. I’d be opening a Pandora’s box. What if Jude finds out? On and on they flow, until the only way to dam them is to dial the number.
“Hello?”
My mouth goes so dry that I can’t move my tongue.
“Hello?” He sounds impatient, more so than the day I met him.
I want to hang up, so much so that I fumble the phone and don’t tap the “end” button.
“Is Dave there?” I ask so quickly I’m not sure he understands me. I don’t know why I’m asking since it’s obviously his husky, familiar voice on the other end.
“This is he.”
Don’t stutter, don’t stutter, don’t stutter.
My heart is pumping so fast, I have to put my free hand on top of the one holding the phone to stop my shakes.
“My n-name is Ryan. We met at the café the other d-day.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“I m-made you your lattes.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“The thing is, I’m uh . . . well, I recognized you. Because I’m your s-son.”
I expect to hear the click of the phone hanging up, but there’s only silence. So I press on, and soon I can’t stop the words from coming.
“I’m s-sorry for surprising you, I hope you won’t hang up until you h-hear me out. I needed to reach out, just in c-case.”
Fuck my brain, I sound ridiculous.
“Are you Ella Jane’s boy?”
I shut my eyes. “One of them.”
“Alright. I guess I knew this might happen someday. Go on.” He sounds resigned, but not happy.
“Well, I was h-hoping we could meet. Just so I c-could ask you some questions.” I have no idea what those questions might be, or why I even suggested this. If I could turn back the clock about three minutes, I would.
He goes silent for a while and I wait him out.
“We could do that. Not here, though. Jeannie doesn’t know I’ve got kids.”
So we got erased from his existence—like an illness you recovered from and forgot you ever had.
I try to go into business mode as we set a time and place. How bizarre to be talking about mundane logistics with the man who co-created me. I guess I thought if this moment ever came it would feel huge and significant; instead I’m giving him street directions.
I’m old enough to have known better; reality almost never lives up to expectation.
“Okay, see you soon, Brian,” he says.
I end the call.
My hand is so damp, I have to wipe it on my shirt. I wipe again and again, trying to muddle through what just happened.
And I marvel at the fact that my own father doesn’t know my name.
* * *
Me, Diego, and Eva pull up to her parents’ house—a large one-story place that looks similar to all the others in this neighborhood. It’s distinguished by the huge variety of plants in the front, including a cactus garden. One of the cacti is the size of a bear and just as lethal, judging by its thorns.
“We call that the cactus moat,” Eva says.
“It’s like I’m w-walking into the line of fire.”
She squeezes my hand. “Are you kidding? Mom is thrilled you’re coming, and as long as you compliment Dad’s barbecue, you’re in.”
I did sweeten the deal by driving them over in my car; it’s small and blue and Diego has a strange fascination with it. I’m not above using whatever leverage I’ve got.
We go around the side of the house, following a plume of smoke and the delicious scent of grilled meat.
Eva wasn’t kidding about her dad: he’s standing in front of a stainless steel device that looks more like a rocket ship than a barbecue. There seems to be an entire cow sizzlin
g on it, along with chicken and hot dogs. I’m not sure if the entire neighborhood is coming, or if I’m expected to eat all of it.
“You must be Ryan,” he says, putting down the tongs and shaking my hand. I’m probably a head taller than him, but his grip is strong. I have no doubt this man could crush me. “Can you go tell Paulina I need another plate?”
“Dad, he just got here. He hasn’t even met Mom yet.” Eva gives her dad a kiss on the cheek.
“I’ll go, Grandpa,” Diego says, taking off for the house.
A silver German shepherd runs out of the back door and meets him halfway. Just as I think the dog is going to take a bite out of Diego, it licks him instead.
“Down, Gordi,” a woman says, coming out with napkins and plates. This is where Eva gets her height and her beauty. And also her ability to intimidate others, judging by the way Paulina sets down the napkins, looks me straight in the eye, and makes me reach for her hand.
“You must be Ryan,” she says, putting her free hand on top of mine as we shake.
“Pleasure to meet you.”
She leans around my shoulder toward Eva’s dad. “Francisco, you’re going to set yourself on fire.”
He tosses down his tongs again and pulls Paulina into his arms. “Do I tell you how to cook?” His fingers are splayed on her back.
“All the time.” It comes out more sweet than irritated.
“Probably true.” He kisses Paulina on the cheek and goes back to grilling.
Eva looks on, while keeping one eye on Diego. To her, the affection between her mom and dad is an everyday thing she takes for granted.
Eva sets the fruit salad she brought down on a long table filled with beans, rice, potato salad, and a green salad. There are also chips and a couple different salsas. I contribute a bottle of wine.
A guy walks up to the table and throws down another bag of chips. He’s wearing a sleeveless gym shirt that’s so tight, there’s not an ounce of daylight between it and his pecs. He’s a ringer for Eva’s dad—stocky build and all—but he’s wider everywhere. This must be her brother.
“No freaking manners,” Eva mutters, tearing open the chip bag and dumping them in an empty bowl.
“Who’s this?” Her brother points at me like I’m Eva’s luggage.
“I’m Ryan.”
“’Bout friggin’ time you got some,” he says to Eva. I sympathize with that steak sizzling on the barbecue.
She hits him on the arm. “Shut it.” Eva turns to me. “This is Alejandro. We try to keep him in the attic, but he breaks loose now and then.”
Alejandro makes a muscle with one arm and kisses his bicep.
“Oh my God, stop,” Eva says. “Where’s Stacy, or Amanda, or whoever you last swiped right?”
“Yeah, Stacy and I had a parting of ways.”
“Awww, so she finally realized it should last longer than four minutes?”
“Evita!” Paulina shakes her head.
“No, she missed having the ability to walk the next morning.” With that, Alejandro reaches his hand up for a high five from Eva.
She gives it to him.
Alejandro points at me again. “Ryan, let’s go get some beers. You can tell me what disaster led you to dating my sister.”
I let him drag me off to the house, totally unsure what will happen when we get there. Is he going to try and bench press me? Make me arm wrestle him?
Turns out he really did want beer. He opens the fridge wide and grabs a couple as I look around the kitchen. It’s extremely well-loved. The grout on the counter is worn down from too many scrubbings, and there are school pictures—including some of Diego—and fingerprints covering the front of the fridge. The appliances are new though, with a stove that Jude would kill for.
Alejandro hands me a can of beer and then pops open his own. He leans against the kitchen counter and takes a hefty swallow. As he drinks, his oversized Adam’s apple bobs up and down and the considerable gold chain around his neck swings back and forth. I begin to wonder if I was born with too little testosterone, or if he was born with too much.
“So how did you meet Eva?” he asks.
“I’m r-renting her in-law unit.”
“Huh.” He takes another drink. “You in tech?”
“No. Getting my t-teaching credential. You?”
“Mechanic. I own my own shop in Sunnyvale. I keep telling Eva to become her own boss, but she won’t listen.” He fiddles with a magnet on the fridge which reads, “World’s Best Grandparents.”
“You m-mean doing event planning?”
“Yeah. She wanted to start her own business, but Marco fucked that up. Now she won’t even consider it. Thinks it’s too risky.”
“I bet she’d be g-great at it.”
Alejandro stares at me as he drinks his beer, sizing me up. “You’re biting off a lot with Eva. Don’t get me wrong, she’s the best. But man, she’s got a handful of a life.”
“I know. So far so good.”
“Good, because she could use some happy. I don’t care what she says; Marco was an epic clusterfuck.” He rips a piece of the label off his beer. “If she hadn’t gotten out of that when she did, I might have had to kill him.”
I know he means it, and I decide I like Alejandro more than I did five minutes ago.
He sets his empty bottle down. “Better go eat. Dad’ll have my ass if his food gets cold.”
I spend the next three hours swapping stories with the Romeros. Alejandro supplies the entertainment, Francisco puts me to work on the barbecue, and Paulina asks me questions without making me feel interrogated. I’m grateful to be included and amazed at how easy it is to fit in.
Still, there’s a bittersweet quality to the night, because the whole time I’m aware that less than a couple miles from here is the apartment where I grew up with my mom and Jude. We used to be like this, too: fun-loving, irritable with each other, a unit. A family.
“We need to get you home,” Eva finally tells Diego after his second helping of chocolate ice cream.
“Not yet! I’m teaching Gordi a new trick.” He tosses a leathery looking bone toward Gordi, who has absolutely no intention of catching it. The bone lands at his feet with a thud, so he drops to the ground and chews on it.
“Let him sleep over, mija,” Francisco says.
Eva shakes her head. “I didn’t bring any of his stuff with me.”
“Oh, I have clothes for him here,” Paulina says. “Let him stay.”
Diego pulls out the doe eyes. “Please, Mommy?”
“Alright, alright.” Eva knows she’s beat.
A night alone with her is just what I need. I want to relax with her, hold her in my arms, let her lift me out of this strange mood I’m in. And of course, I want to make love to her. Since her parents are standing right in front of us, I try not to think too much about that.
“A whole night of peace and quiet and then we can sleep in,” she says as we leave. She tries and fails to cover a yawn. “Heaven.”
So much for my plans.
My disappointment vanishes when I notice the drooping of her eyelids, the roundness of her shoulders. She’s my wilting flower, a long week catching up with her. That arouses a protective streak in me that feels new. Eva is always caring for other people. Someone needs to put her first, and tonight—and hopefully for a lot of nights ahead of us—that someone will be me.
* * *
I drive Eva home in silence as she holds my free hand. Weird to see an empty booster seat in the back of my car.
“I hope that wasn’t too painful,” she says as we pull up to her house. “If Carmen had been there with her horde, it would have been a lot crazier.”
“No, they’re great.”
“You want to stay over tonight?” She’s tapping her index finger on her bottom lip. I’ve noticed her do that before when she’s nervous.
“Of course.”
“Anything wrong? You’ve been quiet.”
Is there? I’m not sure. There’s
something creeping around my brain folds, making me uneasy. Which irritates me, because I get the whole night with her and there’s nothing I should be upset about.
“I get this way s-sometimes.”
“What way?”
I turn off the car. “I’m not used to so much f-family. I’m absorbing, I guess.”
I make sure to take her hand when she gets out of the car, to reassure her that I had a good time. It’s not her fault that I don’t know how to handle normal family stuff.
“Hey.” She stops me. “Thanks for coming. They really liked you.” She leans against the car and pulls me to her. “I really like you.”
I rest my forehead on hers. This is all madness. In the past two months, I’ve come home, moved out, mended fences with my brother, and fallen for someone with a huge life surrounding her. That’s fast, even for me. But when Eva lays her head on my shoulder, there’s belonging and affection and a voice telling me that this is right. I will never ignore that voice; it’s pulled me through a lot of loneliness.
“I like you too,” I whisper, and then I kiss her. As always, there’s a mental click and a lock, and we’re throwing away the key, meshing our bodies together.
“Eva?”
I’m slow to come up for air, lost in her skin, her hair. When she pushes on my chest, I finally realize someone’s talking to her.
Marco.
He’s standing at the bottom of the driveway, his hands up in the air. “So this is the guy? Your fucking renter?”
Eva’s arms cross, and her stance widens. She’s gearing up for a fight. “What are you doing here? Are you checking up on me?”
“I came to drop something off for Diego.” Except he’s not holding anything in his hands.
I know I should let them have this conversation in private, but there’s no way I’m leaving her with this guy.
“What I do with him isn’t your business,” Eva says quietly.
Marco puts both hands up to his head like he’s in pain. “My family is my fucking business.” He takes a step toward her. “You’re screwing this guy right under my son’s nose, and that’s not my business?”
I step forward. “You need to c-calm down.”
He turns toward me, fists balled at his sides. “Fuck you, dude. I warned you.”
“Take a breath, Marco, or this conversation is over.” Eva voice is steady, but her body is stiff.
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