Avra's God

by Ann Lee Miller

  Cisco stopped and nudged her chin up with his knuckles. A thin, light brown ring separated the dark brown from his pupils. The back of his hand pressed against the tender skin below her chin. “I always thought beauty came from the inside. ¿Sí?”

  Queen Palms rustled overhead.

  She lifted the corners of her mouth. “Yes.”

  Cisco dropped his hand. “You have the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. And your hair always looks so soft. Notice how I pull it every chance I get?” He reached over and tugged at her hair, rubbed it between his fingers, and smiled. “You’re pretty on the outside too. I don’t know why you can’t see it.”

  She blushed.

  “Look at me,” Cisco said. “I’m average—not buff. I got the Cuban skin, the white dreads—”

  “Not dreads.”

  “Kinks, whatever——I can’t remember what color they are because I’ve baked in the sun, like, my whole life.”

  “Okay, so you’re average.” Or you think you are, anyway. “Are you going to tell me you’re not popular?”

  He held his arms out. “Nah. I got this personality. Folks love it. What can I say?”

  “Regardless, you could have any girl you want. Fact.”

  Cisco’s gaze fastened on her chin, her ear. “... Fact.”

  “So, what do you want from me?”

  “I already told you, to go out.” Cisco said as though she were slow-witted.

  “No, I mean—popular guy—Miss Nobody.” She held her hands out as though weighing the two. “If you’re looking for someone to sleep with, that’s not going to be me.”

  Cisco kicked a rock. It skittered down the sidewalk and into the dirt. “Okay, so I thought about it.” Cisco held up his hands to stop her from reacting. “But, ask any guy on campus. It’s pretty much all we think about.”

  “Really?” She asked, incredulous.

  “Yeah.” Cisco looked away. “I’m not liking this honesty stuff—”

  “My brothers?”

  “Yeah. They’re male. Ask them.”

  “I’ll pass.”

  “Look, I promised your dad I wouldn’t touch you.”

  They stopped at Cisco’s Geo and he opened the door for her. “You think I’m, like, out of your league or something.” He shut the door after she got in and leaned on the window frame. “But you’ve got it wrong. You’re outta my league.” He climbed in and gunned the engine. “I’ll prove it to you.”

  In New Smyrna Beach, Cisco went past her street and headed west on State Route 44. He whipped around the corner of Milford. At a brick duplex, identical to every house on the block, Cisco pulled across the mostly dirt area in front of the house. A junk car with the hood up filled half the yard. He threw open the warped front door. A girl in a towel and hot rollers shrieked and let out a string of angry Spanish.

  Cisco pulled Avra into the room and kicked the door shut with his foot. “¡Callaté! Can’t you see I have a friend here?”

  The girl disappeared down the hall.

  Another girl near Avra’s age stood in the small kitchen holding a box of macaroni and cheese.

  “Su novia está gringa,” the younger girl said.

  Cisco leveled a dirty look at the girl. “¡Vaca! Talk English. Be polite. Carmen, this is Avra. Avra, Carmen. The sister in the towel was Arjélia.”

  “Hola.” Carmen flashed a fake smile at Avra.

  “Uh, hi.”

  Cisco pointed. “Kitchen.” Dirty dishes piled high in the sink. Cereal boxes, their plastic bags protruding, littered the Formica table. The counters overflowed with junk mail, a discarded box of hair dye, random car parts.

  He motioned down the short dark hall. “Mamá’s room on the left; bathroom, center; sisters’ room on the right.” He flung an arm toward the couch. “My room.”

  The pile of the olive green carpet had been flattened from use and needed vacuuming. Two laundry baskets of rumpled clothes sat on the floor. Avra recognized the plaid of a button-down shirt she’d seen Cisco wear.

  Cisco bowed at the waist and waved his arm around the room. “Mí casa es su casa. My house is your house.” He glanced at the yellow skillet-shaped clock on the kitchen wall. “I better get you home in time for supper.” He let Avra out ahead of him and called over his shoulder, “Save me some mac and cheese.”

  “Sí, hermano.”

  Cisco slammed the door and a brown paint chip fell to the stoop. He let fly a Spanish word that was probably better not translated.

  She stopped Cisco with a hand to his wrist. “Thanks for taking me to your house. I appreciate that you want me to see your life.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not done. No point meeting Mamá. She’s refused to speak English since she and Pops split.”

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Yes, I do. You’re a logical girl. You’ve gotta have all the facts about who I am and where I come from. Then, you can make a decision on this thing.” He motioned between the two of them. “Tomorrow, you’re meeting Pops.”

  “Okay, we’ll do it your way.” Something inside Avra woke up—as though from a deep sleep—uncurled, and warmed in the sun.

  Cisco wheeled the Geo up to the back of the boatyard’s tin building, sending a puff of dust out over the river. While Cisco came around to let her out, Avra eyed the old glue on the roof of the car where the lining had been. Of course, there was no door handle on the inside of the passenger door—he had to let her out. Avra smiled.

  Around the corner of the huge boathouse, Freedom’s Call bobbed beside the seawall.

  “Columbia 24,” Cisco said, a catch of respect in his voice, “nineteen seventy. Pops lives aboard.”

  A man with a buzz cut, deep tan, and thick biceps unsnapped the sail covers as they walked up to the boat. He looked up and his face brightened. “Francisco!” He leapt the two feet of water onto the cement of the seawall. “Son, it’s been too long.” He hugged Cisco, who fell back a step.

  “Yo, Pops, did you miss me or something?”

  His father sobered. “Every day.” He jutted his chin toward Avra in a mannerism she recognized as Cisco’s. “Who’s the pretty girl?”

  “Pops, this is Avra. Avra, Sam Carter.”

  Sam shook her hand, an arm still around Cisco’s shoulders. He smiled at Avra. “First girl you’ve ever brought by.”

  Cisco grinned at Avra. “First girl worth it.”

  Avra’s chin lifted. So, maybe he was into her.

  “Where you been, Francisco?” Sam said. “You’re never home when I visit your sisters.”

  “I have a life.” Cisco kicked at a shell with the toe of his sneaker. “If you couldn’t stand that nuthouse, how do you expect me to hang out there?”

  A muscle flinched in Sam’s jaw. “Speaking of getting out, I’m glad you stopped by. I’m thinking of getting out of town.”

  “Where ya going—to see Grandma?” He glanced at Avra. “Up in Stark.”

  Sam ran his hand over his face. “I’ve been hearing about a planet that only comes into our orbit every thirty-six thousand years. When it hits our atmosphere, there will be nine-hundred-mile-an-hour winds. Ocean boundaries will shift radically.” He glanced at Avra. “Gotta get away from the ocean. I have a friend in New Mexico who lives underground.”

  “Pop.” Cisco smacked his forehead. “Not another friend who lives underground.”

  A grin lurked at the edges of Sam’s mouth. “He buried his pop-up camper way out in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Where do you find these whackos?”

  “Shortwave is the way to go,” Sam said. “No Big Brother breathing down your neck. Yes, sir, that’s where you get the real goods, the truth.”

  “What if it’s another Y2K?”

  Sam grinned sheepishly. “Just in case, I’m taking two week’s vacation from the boatyard.”

  Cisco shook his head and grinned at his father. “You’re the limit.”

  Sam shrugged easily. “Come for a sail with me, you two.”


  “I gotta work this afternoon.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  She heard the plea in that word. Sam’s blue eyes held hope as they stared at his son. “What time?” she said.

  Cisco narrowed his eyes at her.

  The sun broke out on Sam’s face. “Your call.”

  She didn’t look at Cisco. “Noon. We’ll bring food.”

  As Cisco pulled onto Riverside Drive, he nailed her with a look. “I should be ticked.”

  “Because I want to go sailing?” Avra feigned innocence.

  “Because you’re meddling.”

  Avra shrugged. “Maybe you need some meddling. Two years is a long time to hurt inside.”

  Cisco cracked his knuckles. “All right, I’ll sail, but only because I don’t want to make waves when I’m trying to talk you into going out.”

  Avra’s lips stretched into a smile as she stared out the windshield.

  Cisco rolled to a stop beside the soccer field. After Avra stepped out, he slammed her door. “Piece of crap.” He scowled at the Geo.

  “It runs.”

  “Yeah, two hundred and ten thousand miles and it still runs. There is that.”

  They walked toward the soccer field—Avra’s turf. How many hours had she spent on this field, running and kicking, crashing on the grass, chugging water, panting out the extremes of every emotion?

  She stepped onto the field. “I have to play forward next month when Lexi DiSilva has knee surgery.”

  “That’s a good thing, right?” Cisco high-fived her. “Forwards score, get the glory. You the woman.”

  She laughed. “That’s the general idea, except I’m not aggressive enough to score. That’s why I play D.”

  Cisco jogged toward the goal. “Come on, we’ll practice.”

  She jogged after him. “Uh, Cisco, we need a ball,” she said as they stopped within shooting distance of the goal.

  “No sweat.” Cisco held up an imaginary ball, wiped invisible grass from it on his jeans. He rolled the “ball” behind Avra. “Okay, you shoot on goal; I’ll defend.”

  Avra laughed. Cisco was fun. No wonder people liked him.

  Fifteen minutes later Cisco sprawled on the ground.

  Avra inhaled the grass scent as she sat down nearby.

  “Hey, you’re not bad for a girl.”

  “You’re not bad, either—for a girl.”

  “Ooooh, the lady’s meaner than I thought.” Cisco rolled onto his back and folded his hands behind his head. A breeze lifted the curls from his forehead and blew the clouds across the sky.

  Avra watched him. Sun warmed her shoulders. A comfortable quiet settled between them.

  Cisco pointed at the sky where cumulus clouds crawled by. “Look at that Lamborghini.”

  “Yeah, right, and there’s Elvis.”

  “Avra,” he said, as though talking to a two-year-old, “everyone knows Elvis is at Graceland. You gotta get down here to see the Lamborghini—finest car ever made. Put your head right here.” He patted the grass above his head.

  She lay down head to head with Cisco. She shifted to avoid the grass poking her in the ribs. The afternoon had taken on a surreal quality—Cisco’s dad, Cisco himself. Her scalp tingled with his nearness. She didn’t care if it was surreal. It felt good.

  “Now, look right there.” Cisco pointed. “See the hood?”

  “You mean that long, flat cloud stuck in that cauliflower?”

  “That’s not a cauliflower.” Disdain laced his voice. “That’s the puff of exhaust covering the back end of the Lamborghini. See the front tire, the bumper?”

  “Okay, okay—I bet I can find a better one.”

  Cisco twisted around to look at her. “Are you always this competitive?”

  “Yep.” She pulled up her knees and crossed one over the other.

  Cisco lay back down. “Then, don’t worry about playing forward.”

  She bounced her foot as she scanned the sky. “Since you won’t look for poor Elvis and you’ve got cars on the brain like my brother Kurt, how about old Herbie over there?” She pointed. “See the bubble roof, the rounded fenders, three of the tires?”

  “Herbie, as in ‘The Love Bug’?”

  “Yeah, have you got him?”

  Cisco chuckled. “Oh, I’ve got the love bug, all right.”

  Heat flooded her face. Thank God, Cisco wasn’t in a position to notice. She heard him take a deep breath.

  “So, Avra, what’s it gonna be? You up for going out with me?” He rolled to his side and faced her, propping his head on his hand. “You got the whole scoop on Cisco Carter.”

  “Yes, I’ll go out with you.” Her eyes skittered away from him.

  Cisco let out a deep breath. “Man, Avra, you are one hard chick to ask out.”

  Her gaze slipped back to him. Cisco reached over and tucked her hair behind one ear. The intimacy of his touch buzzed through her.

  “Avra.” He matched her serious tone. “I don’t want you to ever think I’m out of your league. That’s why I subjected you to my family. I’m white trash, Spic white trash. You’re like—” He waved his hand in the air between them, searching for the right word. “—royalty. I’m the one who’s way out of my league.”

  She smiled. “Thanks for showing me your life.” She sat up cross-legged. “I want to be honest with you, too.”

  “Honesty’s a good thing.”

  “This is really embarrassing.” She tore grass up and let it fall into a pile under her fingers. “I’ve never gone out with anyone before.”

  “And your point is?”

  She darted a look at him. “My point is, I don’t have a clue what people do when they go out.”

  “Neither do I. I’ve been with a lot of girls, but I’ve never had a girlfriend. It’ll be an adventure.” He held his hand out to her. Avra laid her hand in his. His fingers closed around hers. “We’ll figure it out.”

  The warmth of Cisco’s hand suffused her in an unfamiliar euphoria. He’d called her his girlfriend.

  Cisco pulled her to her feet. They strolled toward the stubby palms dotting the parking lot behind the football stadium. “I like this.” He held up their intertwined fingers.

  Cisco stroked her hand with his thumb, shooting warning flares up her arm. Would he pressure her for sex? A cloud traveled across the sun, putting them in shadow. She shivered and pushed away the fear. If it happened, she’d deal with it then.

  She checked the time on her phone. “I have to get home.”

  Cisco frowned, then seemed to shake off his disappointment. “Beat you to the Geo.”

  They took off running.

  Cisco bent at the waist, hands on his knees, panting beside the car. “You can really book. I haven’t had to run that hard since football.”

  “Maybe you better get in shape if you’re going out with a soccer jock.”

  Cisco’s breathing slowed to normal. “Hey, I won, didn’t I?”

  “Barely.”

  “What? I was ahead by two yards.”

  She stared him down.

  “Feet. So, maybe I should play more basketball. I knew you’d be good for me.” He opened her door. “Thanks for saying ‘yes.’ I’m a happy guy.”

  Her world tilted.

  As she and Cisco pulled up in front of her house, Kurt and Drew tossed a football in the yard. Dad trimmed a bush beside the porch steps. A tape measure bulged in his back pocket.

  “Hey, Cisco,” Drew yelled, “throw some ball?”

  “I’m in.” Cisco came around the car and let her out. He stood in the open door boxing her in.

  “I have to go.”

  “Sit with you at church tomorrow?”

  “Sure.”

  Cisco leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “Bye.”

  The snap of the football being passed back and forth stopped for an instant, and she heard it hit the ground and bounce again. She didn’t need to look at her brothers to know they’d seen the whole thing. Kurt and Drew would tease her merci
lessly—and it would be so worth it.

  Cisco jogged toward the boys and scooped up the ball.

  Her dad chuckled as she ran up the front steps. “Guess you said you’d go out with him, huh?”

  The screen door banged behind her. Her heart still raced. The guy had guts—kissing her in front of all the male members of her family. And they’d known this was coming before she did. She touched her cheek where Cisco had kissed it.

  Wordless thanks welled up in her to God.

  Something Tad had said flitted into her head. “Don’t date anyone who doesn’t share your faith, or you’ll be in for a world of hurt.” Easy for him to say—he was a pastor, not a girl who’d only attracted Morgan the Geek her entire life.

  Chapter 8

  Cisco spit into the Indian River, squinting at Freedom’s Call where it bobbed off the boatyard seawall. This is jacked. I’m out of here.

  Pops threw back the hatch and vaulted into the cockpit. “Francisco!” A grin split his face. “Where’s your girl?”

  Avra had sent him alone, said it would be good for him. Cisco scowled. “Didn’t come.”

  “Where were you for the six months before you came by the other day?”

  “You should have thought about wanting to see me before you checked out.”

  Sam rose and fell as the boat bounced on the wake of a passing ski boat. “We’re doing the same old dance. You punish me for leaving. I get tired and give up trying for a while. Then, I start over.”

  “Why did you leave?”

  “I’m not dragging you into our mess.”

  “Life is crap since you left. We’re living in the projects. We never see Mamá—she’s working all the time.” Disgust laced his voice. “The girls are whacked. Family dinners are ancient history.”

  “Like family dinners were happy events. You remember history the way you want to remember it.” Pops’ jaw tightened. “You don’t know—” He stopped himself. “This has gone on too long.” He dropped from the deck to the seawall in front of Cisco. “I’m sorry I made you suffer, son. Forgive me.”

  He watched the yearning play in his father’s face and hardened himself against it. Not in this lifetime.

  “I’ll think about it.” He spun toward his car.