Avra's God

by Ann Lee Miller

  “I heard,” he said. He wished he knew what was going through Cisco’s head. He thought Cisco was really into Avra, the only girl he’d ever known Cisco to be serious about.

  Finally, he jerked into the parking spot six blocks from the Daytona Band Shell.

  They spread a blanket in the sand between the ocean and the Band Shell as the musicians poured onto the stage.

  The air came alive with the cacophony of their tuning.

  Kallie lay back and sunset washed her with oranges and reds.

  The girl was so beautiful she made his gut hurt. Why did she have to have so many issues? What did a guy have to do—come with an engagement ring in a box to ask her out? She glanced at him and he looked at the sky, watching it cool to pink, purple; feeling the steady wind against his skin.

  The jumble of sound faded to pregnant silence.

  The conductor crossed the stage, applause rippling through the benches fanning back from the band shell, in his wake. The man bowed to the audience and stepped onto the podium. A smile tugged at Jesse’s mouth. Yeah, he was the guy to watch, the one with the power. He glanced at Kallie and caught her eyes on him. He’d give five bucks to know what she was thinking.

  The musicians coaxed Handel’s “Water Suite” from their instruments. The music arced and twirled, the beauty catching him by surprise like the Italian volleyed between two exchange students on Echo Plaza. “Jesse.” Kallie raised her voice to be heard over the crash of the waves and the music. She leaned up on her elbow. “Doesn’t this,” she gestured toward the sky, “make you think about God?”

  He shrugged and lay back, cupping his head in his hands. He didn’t want to talk about God.

  Kallie plucked at the blanket between them with her fingertips. “Your dad’s a minister; maybe you know where I should look for God.” She eyed him hopefully.

  “I don’t know, Kal. Don’t ask me such hard questions. I’m trying to stay away from God.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want Him running me.” He’d forgotten how talking to Kallie was like taking truth serum. He stared hard at the sky. Stars debuted one by one.

  “What do you think God is like?” Kallie lay on her side, her head propped on her hand, waiting for his answer.

  He sighed. She wasn’t going to leave it alone. “He’s the most powerful thing out there. He’s way harsh. No basketball. No rock-n-roll. No fame.”

  “But Avra says He cares about us.”

  He could feel her eyes on him, but he focused on the stars peppering the sky. What was it with Kallie? She wasn’t happy until she had him thinking about stuff he didn’t want to think about. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kallie lay back on the blanket.

  The music leapt and pirouetted in the night, expressing the inexpressible, while dew settled on them.

  He didn’t disagree with Avra, but what did God’s caring look like? Ten to one, He sucked the sweetness right out of life like his old man did. Father was one of God’s names for a reason. “Avra told me I was looking for the smile of God.”

  Kallie startled and turned her face toward him. Her hair lay in silky puddle above her head.

  He flattened his palms against the blanket, fighting the urge to touch her hair. “I blew her off. Maybe she’s right. But, if God’s anything like my old man, there’s no pleasing him.”

  Kallie rolled onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows to look at Him. The wind streamed her hair off her face.

  Moonlight glanced off her mussed hair. Her face was so close to his, all he could think about was kissing her.

  “There’s got to be something about God we’re missing. Something inside me wants more.” She touched her chest with her fingertips. “What’s my purpose in life?” Tears sprung to her eyes.

  Whoa. Where did that come from?

  She took a deep breath and blinked the tears onto her lashes. “I’ll have a career—maybe a family—get old, die. There’s got to be something more. It’s all wrapped up in God somehow.” Her wet eyes begged for an answer.

  “What do you want from me? I don’t have the answers to the universe.”

  Those intense evergreen eyes wouldn’t let go of him.

  Behind him, he heard the churn of the water.

  Finally, he blew out his breath. “Where have you been looking for God?”

  “Last week I went to mass four times—fat lot of good it did me. I just got testy. When I walk, I say the prayers I memorized as a kid over and over. I wrote letters to God. It felt good, but I don’t know if He read them. This year I’m teaching second grade catechism. Maybe I’ll learn something I missed the first time around.” She gave a high-pitched, strained laugh.

  “Man, Kal, you’re really serious about this.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Have you tried reading the Bible?”

  “Never thought about it. I think we have one.” Kallie rolled over and sat up as though he’d passed her the key to the Humanities final. She wrapped the extra blanket around herself.

  He reached a hand toward her and let it drop on the blanket behind her. Whatever he wanted from Kallie, friendship wasn’t it. Not by a long shot.

  Cisco spied Kurt headed in his direction from the snack bar line. He gave Avra’s brother his back, hoping he hadn’t seen him yet.

  No such luck.

  Kurt slammed his food tray down on the table. “What’s wrong with you, man, jerking Avra around?”

  Cisco clenched his jaw.

  Kurt drilled him with his eyes. “Just lost my appetite.” He shoved his tray at Cisco.

  Cisco caught the tray before it flew into his lap. Chicken noodle soup sloshed onto his jeans.

  Kurt stormed out the door. The snack bar quieted for a heartbeat and buzzed back to life.

  Cisco spit out Spanish. He rammed Kurt’s abandoned tray with his hip on his way out of his seat. He caught Morgan’s speculative smile below his too-neat hair as he blew by him.

  Kurt’s disgust tasted like a mouthful of dirt, and Cisco spat it into a planter on his way to the parking lot. Who needed Kurt, or the entire Martin clan with their outdated rules? He should have chosen an easy girl in the first place. Well, he had one now. And he was going to have a good time, for a change.

  Cisco strode toward the jetty, pulling Isabel along. A six-pack of Coors dangled from his hand. He shoved the paper bag holding a quart of Jack Daniels back into place under his arm without breaking stride.

  Isabel stumbled in the sand. “Slow down.”

  He dropped back beside her and settled his gaze on the play of moonlight across the taut fabric of her blouse. The smell of beer and weed blew toward them. He propelled Isabel into the hand-slapping and greetings that whipped away in the humid wind. Someone passed him a joint. It was going to be a good night.

  A tall girl with hair the length of Avra’s climbed onto a rock to watch the waves crash against the jetty.

  Was it her?

  Adrenaline shot through his body, aching, dread.

  The girl ducked back toward him from the spray of a wave.

  Not Avra. The breath rushed out of his lungs.

  His fingers glowed pink where they cupped the stubby cigarette. He raised it to his lips and sucked in the warmth of the drug.

  Avra trudged into the stream of students filling the hallway and headed toward her Elements of Education final. Her gaze swept from side to side—half afraid, half hungry—for a glimpse of Cisco. She’d managed to avoid him for the last three weeks since their breakup. Only finals week to go before she could stop expecting Cisco to pop up like an undead in a horror flick.

  But she spied his familiar ringlets bobbing with his steps several yards ahead—his muscular shoulders looking particularly un-corpselike. Her eyes trailed his arm diagonally across Isabel’s back, ending with his hand tucked into her jeans pocket. Her gaze galvanized to the sway of Isabel’s hips and the outline of Cisco’s fingers cupped to her form.

  Pain shot to her core, a white-
hot dagger. She stumbled out of the traffic pattern and sunk onto a bench. Air gasped in and out of her lungs as if she’d forgotten how to breathe. She squinted against the sun’s glare and the picture etched onto her soul.

  God.

  Kallie climbed the fold-down ladder into her attic. She looked through the hatch at Jesse. This was the first time Jesse had been inside her house. She felt exposed. Why had she given in to his pestering? “Why do you want to see my dusty attic anyway?”

  Jesse poked his head and shoulders through the opening. “Inspiration for songwriting.”

  She bent at the waist to avoid the low rafters, took a few steps, and sank onto the plywood. The house was ghetto compared to the one she grew up in, and Jesse wanted to hang out in the ugliest part of it. “Why don’t you go sit in your own attic?”

  “Don’t have one.” Jesse sat too close. “Besides, you wouldn’t be there.”

  His nearness unnerved her. “You’re in my personal space.” She flicked her eyes back and forth across the foot between them.

  “You’re cold as ice, girl,” Jesse sang.

  I’m terrified you’ll hurt me. She raised her brows at him. “Quoting yourself?”

  “Give me a chance.” Jesse grabbed the back of his neck. “Haven’t you felt this weird connection between us since we met—musical—and something way deeper?”

  “Yeah, like a train wreck—we’re all twisted and melted together. I’m surrounded by carnage here, Jess. My dad cut me and Aly off with a scythe and left us to die. Cisco’s done the same to Avra, and now she’s sitting on the curb with us. Blood runs in the gutter.”

  “I swear you’re Goth inside.” He swept dust into a pile with the side of his hand. “Okay, so Cisco’s being a jerk. It’s not like him. What’s that got to do with you and me?”

  “Guys in general are a bad risk.” You in particular. “If I don’t protect myself, nobody will.”

  “What? Like I’m psycho?”

  “You’d rip my heart out of my chest.” Dust filtered into her nose and she sneezed. “Oh, you’d feel badly about it, but you’d still do it.”

  “You always believe in me. But when it comes to trusting me not to hurt you, you quit believing. Why?”

  “Because I know you, Jesse Wayne Koomer.”

  His face turned toward the shaft of light burning through the dirty dormer window. “Everybody gets hurt sometime. This is life, Kallie. You lick your wounds; you get over it.”

  “You haven’t got a clue what a broken heart feels like. I don’t even think you’re capable of loving someone that deeply. You’re still a little boy in here.” She touched her chest. She knew she was talking crazy—anything to get him to back off.

  “You think you can get inside my head. Well, you can’t. And you’re dead wrong. You’re the one who needs to grow up and take risks.” He squatted in front of her. “You’re safe now. I’m vacating your train wreck.”

  The ladder groaned under his weight.

  Chapter 17

  Avra pummeled the road with her feet. She’d sprinted the length of Faulkner Street and run out of sidewalk. Anger spit and hissed in her belly. She scrunched her eyes shut trying to block out the picture of Cisco’s hand jammed into Isabel’s pocket.

  For weeks, fifty pounds of unexpressed grief sat on her chest. She’d wake up at night and roll over, trying to dislodge the weight, but it rolled with her. And now she couldn’t shut off the grief.

  She stumbled on the uneven asphalt and sprawled, knocking loose emotions that had trash-compacted since she broke up with him.

  Strawberries on her knees oozed and her palms had scraped white. She brushed off the pebbles and dirt, tears cascading down her face. She wiped them on the shoulder of her T-shirt, but they kept coming.

  She picked herself up and took off again, welcoming the sting of the wind on her knees distracting her from the pain inside. Her chest heaved with sobs as she ran, and she didn’t care who saw her. Inside, she ranted at God.

  I wish I’d slept with Cisco. At least, then she’d still have him. Instead, she was more alone than she’d ever been in her life. Thanks to Your rules I feel empty and unloved.

  Had Cisco ever loved her? Or, had she forced him to say the words by saying she loved him first? Regardless, he had ripped himself from her future.

  She shoved the jagged edge of her life into God’s stomach. Here. Fix it. Or don’t. Do You even care? What was the use? Even if God cared, she wasn’t fixable. All the conversations she needed to have with Cisco to get over this—she couldn’t have.

  The last tears trailed down her face as she rounded Riverside Drive onto Murray. She scrubbed her face dry with her shirt in front of her house.

  Pain still throbbed in her heart, hands, and knees. God was silent. But He was there—bobbing in the waves like a buoy she could cling to. She didn’t know how she knew, but she did.

  Her sweat-slicked body melted boneless onto the porch step with the first peace she’d had in a month.

  Jesse fumed around the corner into Kallie’s living room and stopped. Aly stared at him from an antique chair, her scruffy tennis-shoed feet hung over one arm.

  After Kallie blew him off, he was in no mood to make nice with her Mini-Me. “What are you doing?”

  Dimples knifed her cheeks. “Listening.” She shook her white-blonde pixie out of her eyes and swiveled forward in the chair.

  “Figures.”

  Aly sprung up and followed him to the front door. “Zack’s not scary.”

  He stopped, his hand on the door knob. “The guy Kallie went out with? Never mind, I don’t want to know.” He opened the door and looked back at Aly. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why not?”

  “Because Kallie only liked him here.” She pressed a finger to the corner of one light green eye. “Not here.” She smacked her palm against her chest.

  He cracked a smile in spite of himself. “Thanks, kid.” At least somebody was on his side.

  He hoped Aly was right. But it didn’t change anything. Kallie still shut him down.

  Cisco slung his backpack over his shoulder. A door at the back of the auditorium slammed, shutting out Billy and a triangle of sunlight.

  Exit signs cast a faint red glow over Jesse where he squatted on the stage beside his guitar case. He held out a Coke toward Cisco in the half light.

  The metal chilled his hand, and he could almost taste the Coke going down. “What’s this for?”

  Jesse popped the tab on his Mountain Dew and jerked his head for Cisco to sit on the edge of the stage beside him. “We need to talk.”

  He didn’t have a good feeling about this. “Can’t this wait? I’ve got stuff to do.”

  Jesse dangled his feet over the edge of the stage. “Isabel’s been stuck to you like a barnacle. You’re alone for once—”

  “You dissin’ Isabel?”

  Jesse grabbed the back of his neck. “No. But if you ask me, you look like you’re just going through the motions with Isabel.” Jesse held up a hand to stop his reaction. “But, that’s your call.” He pinned Cisco with his eyes. “What’s going on?”

  “What do you mean?” His voice sounded defensive even in his own ears.

  “All summer you’ve looked like you washed in with the seaweed. Your eyes are bloodshot, your pupils dilated. You’re late for practice, hung-over.”

  “You’re turning into your old man.”

  Jesse winced.

  That was a low blow, and Cisco knew it.

  “What’s going on?”

  “None of your business.”

  Hurt flickered in Jesse’s eyes. Then came the balled-up-fist look he wore when they fought as kids. “It is my business.”

  “Fine. Kick me out of the band.”

  “We’ve been like brothers—” Jesse looked him in the eye. “What are you thinking?”

  He stared Jesse down, watching his nostrils flare as he breathed, wanting to punch him in the nose as he had when they were eight. “I’m not.” He jammed the unopened C
oke into Jesse’s chest and stalked out the stage door.

  Cisco wrenched the stubborn plug out of the ’97 Bronco. Oil splattered his cheek and the Quaker State cap that he always wore backward to keep the bill out of his way. A muddy brown stream ran out of the car while Enrique yammered about some hottie in Lawn and Garden. The Cuban radio station sputtered news from Havana.

  Cisco scrubbed at his cheek with the sleeve of his work shirt. “Shut up.”

  Enrique peered down at him through the gap in the grate. “Qué pasa, man?”

  “You’ve got a wife. When you going to act like it?”

  Enrique’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, like you’re livin’ the life of a priest—” He reached for the oil hose.

  Cisco gave him his back and palmed the plug.

  He wasn’t cheating on Avra. They were over. Why did he feel like a worse swine than Enrique? Maybe it was the run-in he’d had with Jesse yesterday. Where did Jesse get off telling him how to run his life? He grunted at Enrique to start filling the tank.

  “Cisco.”

  He looked up. Isabel leaned against the chain-link fence and peered down into the hole at him. He jogged up the steps.

  He motioned toward her blue Walmart uniform. “What are you doing in that?”

  “I quit Stavro’s. Got a job as a checker.”

  “Great.” He smiled to make it more convincing.

  She pushed off the fence and walked toward him. She stopped two inches from his toes and planted a wet kiss on his lips.

  His eyes swept the car bays to see if anyone noticed. Enrique shot him a smug look.

  “I thought we’d be closer,” she said.

  His gaze settled on the lace and the roundness peeking from the gap in the open smock. One brow quirked at him. She knew exactly what she was doing. “Later.” She tucked her hands into her smock pockets, pulling the fabric smooth against her body, and walked away.

  Like a marionette, he watched.