by Sunniva Dee
I hesitate.
“Cugs.”
“Hmm. Not sure.”
“You said you were.”
“Fine! I’m free tomorrow. Happy?”
I get no reply. Crap, I should have Face-timed her. “Cute” expressions go a long way when it comes to appeasing girlfriends. “Nadine.”
She exhales into the phone.
“Come on. Talk to me.”
Damn silence.
“I’m sorry, okay? It’s just—I love you, and I hate it when we don’t agree.”
Her breath hits the receiver first. “Come tomorrow at lunch. No one’s home then. Can you do that? For me?”
She’s there when I buzz the gate. She’s there when I get out of my car. She doesn’t let some staff person open the door and make me uncomfortable, this girl destiny threw at me.
Grateful, I embrace her between marbled gods and topiary hedges, and her body is tense with happiness. Is this how much it means to her that I came?
“Baby,” I whisper into her hair. “You’re so incredibly... Hi, how are you?”
She giggles, her arms tightening around my waist until I oomph. “Great! I’m excited.”
“I can tell.”
“My room first?” She bounces in front of me, not waiting for an answer. She pulls me with her though, her hand a safety clasp around my own.
My girl pushes against one of the double doors. It’s monster-tall, which I don’t consider whenever I’m out shopping with Dad. Or stealing... burglarizing. We’re inside fast, with Nadine picking up speed. She has no time, no reverence for the amazing columns dotting the grand foyer as she skips her shoes off. I watch them roll and land at the bottom of an ornate stairway. It was too dark to appreciate it the last time I was here.
“Whew.” It slips out of me.
Nadine smiles, tugging me along. “I can’t believe you’re finally in my house.”
“I’ve been here before.”
“Done deal, Cugs. That’s over.”
Easy for you to say.
“You’ve changed rooms?” We’re heading down the wrong wing, and my question makes her gaze light up.
“You remember?”
“Of course I do.”
“Yeah, I’ve been upgraded.” She opens the door to some girl heaven.
“Wow, this room is as pink as you.”
“What?”
“Like your... you know.” I clear my throat. “And white. Lotsa white.”
“Ivory. It’s got a tad bit of yellow in it to make it glow.”
“Interesting.” It’s white.
She closes the door behind me and curves into my side. I lean us to the wall so I can hold her better.
“You’re in my room. Like, really here.”
“I am.” I move us toward the bed. Sit down on the edge of it and look around. Lots of statues and pictures from something like Rome. “You like Roman gods?”
“I do not! The Romans stole from the Greeks. Did you know that every single one of the gods—Venus, Jupiter, you name it—were originally Greek and had other names? The Romans just went over the border and copied them.”
“How rude.”
“Seriously! I’d never allow a single statue or anything from Rome here. It’s a-a-all Greek. Original and real. You know what I mean?”
“Sure do.”
She snorts at my grave expression, and I’ve got the feeling I’ve opened a can of worms. She confirms this easily. “If the Romans liked them so much, why didn’t they just pray to the Greek gods instead of making carbon copies with freaking different names? Neptune, you know him?”
“Absolutely.” No.
“Roman. But really, he’s Poseidon, the Greek god of the sea. Jupiter? Really, he’s Zeus. Juno? No, it’s Hera. Sol? Nope, it’s Helios, the sun god. Bacchus, the god of wine? Dionysus is his real name. Mars is Ares. I could go on and on.”
“You did.” I cough it out under my breath. Above her nightstand, there’s a shiny white statue of some hot chick with really long hair. She’s naked and posing on a shell. “That’s you though. I’d recognize those boobs anywhere.”
“Stop it.” But her eyes glitter when she covers my mouth. I kiss her palm. “It’s Aphrodite, Cugs. The goddess of love. The Greek goddess of love.”
I shrug. “Hmm, then you must be the cheap Roman knockoff, because you’re also a goddess of love.”
“Shut your mouth!” She’s blushing. Squirming too, and I grin, satisfied. This visit is going pretty well. I shouldn’t have been worried.
“Where’s your surprise, Goddess?”
She pulls back and mock-crosses her arms. “You’re supposed to wait patiently until I’m ready to reveal it.”
“I can do that.” I blank my expression and dull my eyes. Nadine rolls hers.
“Okay, fine. See that picture?”
She has a ton of pictures, most in frames. On her chest of drawers, there are a few that I study.
“Yes, yes I do.” I hold up a picture of her with two other girls. They huddle in a hug with snow-capped mountains in the back. “Where was this one taken?”
“Oh, my parents took my best friends Kim, Audrey, and me to the Swiss Alps last Easter. Kim broke her leg the day after this picture was taken, so she wasn’t that happy for much longer.” She grins.
“Friends from school?”
“Yeah, it’s been the three of us since kindergarten, pretty much. We went through our obsessions together. Horses, ballet, boys. But we see each other a little less now.”
“How come?”
“Kim still spends most of her spare time at the stables, and Audrey got stuck in the ballet phase. She’s an amazing dancer.”
“And you, where did you get stuck, in the boy phase?” I arch a brow.
She answers by letting her eyes trail over me. It’s affected and silly. “What makes you think that?”
“Come here.” I find her mouth. “It’s a good phase for you.”
“The picture’s over there, between the windows.”
I follow her pointer finger and flinch at first; there I am, smiling back at me. The picture is a blown-up version of one of the selfies Nadine and I took at Astraburger. Nadine looks gorgeous, hair twisted over a shoulder and eyes sparkling with humor. Me, I look damn happy too, cheek to cheek with her like I have no care in the world.
“Wow, that’s... really big,” I manage.
“That’s all you have to say?”
“No, I mean I love it. Can’t believe you have a giant picture of me in here though. What if your parents saw it?” The last part stumbles out, and it makes her break into a smile.
“I tried to camouflage it with that frame.” Targeting the picture, she forms a square with her hands.
“Hmm, we should get you a frame with a jungle pattern then, because shiny red with lots of glitter on it? I don’t know.” I bite my lip, faux-considering.
“It’s not glitter. They’re rhinestones, and plus they’re heart-shaped.”
“Oh you’re fine, then.”
I love it when she laughs.
“Nadine! Where are you?” Heels clack down the corridor, and I freeze. Out of habit, my stare runs from the door to the window, assessing my options.
“Cugs, don’t even think about it.” Nadine’s small hand goes to my cheek.
“You planned this?”
“No! She’s never home for lunch on Wednesdays.”
Nadine’s door opens before I have time to make a decision, and suddenly I’m face to face with a tall, dark-haired woman. Her eyes look like Nadine’s, only they’re blue. Fine eyebrows rise, her mouth changing the words she was about to utter to her daughter.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had visitors.”
“Hi, Mom.”
Tho
se brows relax again, and I’m relieved to see her mouth tugging on a smile. “Goodness, is this the Cugs we’ve heard so much about?” Her focus flows by our picture for verification.
“Mom, I was going to introduce you guys.” Nadine rolls her eyes.
“Well, introduce us then, honey.”
“Introduce us to whom?” The new voice is darker. For the love of god, the dad’s here too?
I notice his dark, immaculate haircut first with specks of gray sprinkled throughout. When he focuses on me, there’s no doubt where Nadine has her eye color from. Toffee. Just like her hair.
“Mom and Dad, this is my boyfriend, Cugs. Cugs, this is Mom and Dad.”
“Alicia Paganelli.” Her mother’s handshake is warm. I’m handed straight to her father afterward, and when he presents himself as Timothy Paganelli, he nods a greeting, generous and unaware of who I really am.
There’s a brick in my chest while we chat too much about me, about football. About my plans for the future. Nadine has true hope on her face while I embellish and make things up. It’s what you do with your girlfriend’s parents when you can’t say the only thing that’s important. “I’m so sorry I steal from you. First your house. Now your daughter.”
“Wonderful! You’re already such a good influence on Nadine,” Mrs. Paganelli says downstairs, in the kitchen, where we sip cappuccinos from their high-tech coffeemaker.
“She’s a good influence on me.”
Another smile tweaks the corners of her mouth. “I’m sure she is, but you get her out a little. Nadine hasn’t been doing much outside of school since she gave up on her last hobby.”
“Ballet.” I’m glad I know.
“He got me into Mixed Martial Arts. It’s bloody thrilling,” Nadine shoots in, adding a British accent. “Did you hear that? ‘Bloody.’”
“Definitely bloody,” I agree.
The guilt in my chest hasn’t lightened any by the time I head out to the wreck. When the three of them wave at me from the doorstep to their perfect, honest-money house, it drops against my abdomen.
The wreck looks tired, out of place in their gleaming driveway, but it purrs to life on the first try. I can’t leave like this though. It’s unfinished business, this brick inside me, so I climb out of the car again and straighten. “Mr. and Mrs. Paganelli, I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry? About what, son?”
“Nothing! He’s just being silly.” Nadine links her mother’s arm with her own and turns for the door.
“About all of it. I don’t mean to hurt anyone.” I send Nadine a glance. She has panic and anger in her eyes, and I’m sorry for that too.
“He doesn’t think he’s good enough for me! He doesn’t shut up about it, and it’s so annoying.” Nadine gasps. I want to gasp too.
“Ah.” Mrs. Paganelli shakes her head. “Don’t worry. As long as you make our daughter happy, we’re happy.”
But it’s her father that eases the pressure in my chest. He doesn’t know, doesn’t know what he forgives as he takes the steps down to the pavement and meets me halfway. With a kind wink, he lands a grip on my shoulder and says, “Apology accepted.”
So far, the summer has been painful. Bear has been outta here, gone Gators-prepping most of the time. Since my visit to her house, Nadine and I’ve met up twice, both times for Keyon fighting, but apart from that, her parents have kept her busy.
She’s packing and stocking up for college life while having a hard time choosing between two campuses for her nursing degree. Soon, she’s leaving on her dreaded trip to visit family too.
One of the colleges is up north and the other in Nevada. Whichever college she commits to—the choice depends on some guru professors she’s stalking—she’ll be nowhere near my stagnant, messed-up existence.
I’ve started at Al’s Hardware. Like I offered, it’s an unpaid internship. I’m learning the ropes, but we don’t talk about what comes after these summer months. I don’t know if Al’s forgotten our Christmas conversation or if he’s just waiting to see if he’ll lose Ben from Tools & Paint to the fish assembly lines in Alaska.
My mind is too dark to ask. I haven’t gone the fast-food-applications route yet, so if it’s a “no” from Al, I’ll be working full time with Dad until something else comes up. My intestines knot up easily these days.
I haven’t acted on my plan of talking with Dad either. I need to tell him that I want fifty-fifty of our earnings from Oliver and Toeffel so I can start on some sort of savings. Without a deposit on an apartment, I’ll have to remain in the prefab too.
There’s something indigestible about heaping up stolen money though. I still go with Dad on his weekend heists, but I don’t ask for more than the twenties he throws on the table after returning from Oliver and Toeffel’s. Each time I stuff them under my mattress, my guts do a shrinking dance. Which is okay. It’s the least they can do over how I live.
I’m sipping my morning coffee, eyes on the wax table cloth, when Step-Cynth swishes into the kitchen. She’s wearing an itty-bitty skirt and that new thing she likes, a decorative apron. It’s insanely sexy and impractical, what with the frilly borders. She wanted a six-pack with different patterns so she could take up baking. My dad, of course, indulged her.
“Your phone.” She holds it out for me.
The buzz stops before I can accept. I don’t recognize the number. For some reason, my first thoughts go to Mom and Paislee whenever I see unknown numbers. They wouldn’t know mine though; it’s secret thanks to Dad.
I’m late for the store. I need to get there on time if I want a chance at a future salary. I’ve been at it for three weeks now, and I’m pretty sure I could handle Tools & Paints without Ben’s assistance. It’s time I figure out if I have something to look forward to.
The wreck’s radiator leaks. I’m not waking my father up to drive me, and much less am I asking Mrs. Sexy Apron for a ride. Thankfully, it’s only a few blocks to the store, and it’s not raining. I make a mental note of buying Epoxy. Hopefully it fixes the radiator problem without a visit to the mechanic.
“Hey!” Bear shouts on the phone from Gainesville, sounding too awake for the early hour. “Are you awake?”
“Yeah, working, you know.”
“Cool! I haven’t gone to bed yet. The guys here are awesome. They’re taking us out and everything. I wish you were here, dude.”
“Me too.” I pull the phone away from my ear and look at the screen. It’s hard to keep from hanging up.
“Cugs, listen up, okay?”
“Yup.”
“The University of Florida accepted you, right?”
“Word.”
“You didn’t decline your spot, did you?”
“Bear, I gotta go. I’m at Al’s, and I need to change into one of those red button-ups he’s so fond of. Enjoy yourself, ’kay?”
“Did you or did you not decline yet?”
“I’m going to. Obviously I can’t afford it,” I say.
“Don’t, though. You need to scrape some money together and then try out in the first week of the semester. Not kidding: have Coach work with you. Dude’s basically off all summer, he’s old and bored, and when I’m back home again, I’ll need to train too. We’ll drum together whoever’s home and get shit done.”
So upbeat.
“Here’s Al,” I lie. He usually arrives half an hour after we do. Ben and the cleaning lady are here already, as are a few of the older guys in charge of repairs. “Get some sleep, Bear.” My pitch cracks halfway through.
“Cugs,” he says, serious. “We’re doing this. So far I haven’t seen a wide receiver like you among the newbies, all right? Tryouts are in August, and you’re gonna be there.”
“See you in a few days,” I say, shutting him down and hanging up. Yes, I’d love to do what he suggests, but it’s not a good plan. My savings would get me a
roundtrip by train. I could stretch them to a night or two in a cheap motel, but that’s about it. By then, I’d be on my own—Dad definitely wouldn’t help.
I stalk into the store. I head to the back and find my shirt in the locker room. As I dress, I remind myself to take it home for a wash.
Ben’s adjusting his own shirt in the mirror, the door to the employee bathroom half-open. He rarely shuts it even when he’s peeing. Once, I caught him sitting on the toilet, pants to his knees. I apologized, but the guy hardly even looked up from his magazine.
“’Sup, Ben?”
“Hey, nothin’ much. Getting ready for the hordes, ya know.” A corner of his mouth lifts. It makes me smile back. “Hoping some pretty girl will come by today and sweep me off my feet.”
“It’s got to be a big girl to sweep you off your feet.”
“My point exactly,” he volleys back. “She needs to be strong.” He watches himself in the mirror, jutting imaginary biceps from several angles.
“So what’s up with Alaska? Could be some strong fish chicks up there.”
“You know what?” He swings to me, small eyes peering happily out from under blond eyebrows. “Eskimo ladies are gorgeous. Alaska could be very good for me.”
I haven’t had a reason to divulge that I was born in Alaska, and I think I’ll stay clear of that. “That’s awesome. When’re you moving?”
He giggles, really giggles, while he pulls a fine-toothed comb through the hair over his forehead. Uncanny how his bangs are thinning in stark contrast to those bushy eyebrows. “You want to know a secret?”
“Sure do. It’s safe with me.” Apparently, I didn’t have to assure him of my secret-keeping talents, because he launches into his revelations before I finish my sentence.
“I’ve applied to two factories up there. One in Anchorage, and another in Dutch Harbor. Both were so happy with my application that they emailed me back immediately. And I mean immediately. It’s only a matter of time now until one or both are in the box.”
“Yeah? What did they say?”
“Very excited, that they had received my application and were really grateful that I had applied. They would get back to me as soon as possible if I fit their job description. And then they repeated again how thankful they were. I like it when they sign with ‘sincerely.’ It’s so promising, you know what I mean? I’d just hate to turn one of them down.”