Connecting—wasn’t that what she was trying to do with her letters to God and reading the Bible? “Okay.” She hoped this wouldn’t tick Him off.
Kallie’s gaze fixed on Tía’s childlike face as they strolled beside the Indian River. Tía’s story tumbled onto the grass and slipped into the murky water—orphaned, shuttled from home to home—waking the compassion Kallie had felt the day she met Tía.
Tía grabbed Kallie’s wrist. “God brought us together.”
Kallie’s mind flitted to the letter to God—maybe it was actually a prayer like Avra said—that had ushered in peace and caring for Tía. “I think you’re right.”
The picture of Jesse kissing Tía under the bridge flashed in Kallie’s head. She eased her arm from Tía’s grasp.
Tía turned large green eyes pooled with pain on her. “I’m not good enough to please Jesse’s family.”
I’ve never met Jesse’s family.
“My name Tía means ‘aunt’ in Spanish. What a stupid name. Like someone who calls their dog, Dog—” She waved a hand, dismissing the subject. “Working at CorMeth Day School is harder than I expected. I won’t have enough saved to get an apartment, much less start classes till fall. Every one of us is going insane at the Malcomb’s. I’ve been so lonely for a friend.” Street light washed Tía’s cheeks porcelain, giving her a fragile quality.
Mercurial and desperately alone, Tía made Kallie want to bring her home and take care of her. No doubt, Jesse felt the same thing. But Tía’s ethereal beauty would pitch Jesse, or any guy, into the L word. Tía was not who she would have imagined for Jesse. But she’d never pictured anyone with Jesse, not even herself.
No question, I’m taking the friendship Tía is offering. Like a conjoined twin, severing herself from Jesse would take violence. In some twisted way, being friends with Tía would leave a shared ligament or blood vessel intact. Even if Jesse never noticed.
Tía turned the corner onto Wayne Avenue. “Were you Jesse’s girlfriend?”
“No.” In the distance cars slashed across US 1. Kallie gripped her waist. “Music crashed us together, but otherwise, we’re just mangled metal—not a pretty picture.”
Tía’s eyes grew soft and wide like a four-year-old’s. “I can’t imagine how anyone could not get along with Jesse. He’s so kind, takes care of me, you know. I can’t remember the last time someone took care of me.”
Jesse was safety to Tía and danger to her. Not anymore.
Cisco’s feet hit the basketball court. “Whoosh, sunk that baby! Game. I took you down.”
Tad bent at the waist and leaned on his knees, “Yeah, right, by one point. Don’t gloat too much. I’ve got six years on you.”
Cisco smirked. “Wah, wah, wah.” He sprawled on the bench, arms spread across the back. A twilight breeze blew across the asphalt and cooled his sweat-slicked skin.
Tad propped a foot on the bench. He loosened the laces on one shoe and worked on the other. “How’re things going?”
“You mean, like how’re things with me and Jesus? We’re tight, man.” He held up two fingers side by side. “I’m praying. I’m looking at the Book. But, you know that. You’re the one keeping my tail to the fire.”
“And the rest of things?”
“Can’t you just be satisfied with simple answers? You’re like a little old lady digging up all the dirt.”
Tad chuckled and sat down, crowding him down to the end of the bench. “I’ve got all night.”
“Okay, already. The rest of things are crap. My gut hurts all day every day. I’m ashamed. I still love Avra. If I just hadn’t been such a—”
“Selfish pig?”
“That was milder than what I was gonna say. Anyway, once a guy’s seen class, nothing else is gonna do. You know what I mean?”
Tad rubbed the scar on his jaw absently. “Yeah, I do.”
He cocked his head at Tad, curious.
“The point is, you’re twenty-one; you could fall in love six, maybe eight more times before you meet the one.”
“Ain’t gonna happen. Do you think I can get her back?”
“Maybe, maybe not. Square one is asking her forgiveness.”
“I’ve been too yellow-bellied to even call her. Classes start soon. I’ll have to face her then.”
“Square two is rebuilding her trust.”
“How?”
“Focus on God, on becoming the man He planned for you to be. Avra will eventually see the changes in you.”
Right. He’d be lucky if she would even look at him between classes. “I wanna marry that girl.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
The streetlight blinked to life, illuminating Tad’s pale five-o’clock shadow. “Then, let’s talk marriage—money, job, college, apartment, babies.”
A half hour later, Cisco dropped his face in his hands.
“A lot to think about?”
“You’ve done this marriage talk before, haven’t you?”
Tad grinned. “A time or two.”
“Well, if you’re trying to scare the bejeebers out of me, you’re doing a good job.”
“Come on.” Tad smacked Cisco in the chest. “Let’s chew on some pizza. I’ll buy.”
But marrying Avra didn’t ruffle him. Reading her engagement in the Home Town News, running into her pushing a stroller in Winn Dixie—scared him spitless.
Jesse snapped shut the latches on his guitar case. Behind him, he heard kids getting into their cars, doors slamming, and engines revving to life in Beachin’ Willie’s parking lot.
Cisco stacked the snare on the bass drum, Willie’s neon sign lighting his skin red.
Billy wrestled the keyboard into its case.
Jesse snagged the high hat. “Last concert of the summer. I’m going to miss it.”
Cisco stopped and looked up at him. “I keep forgetting to tell you I scored a paying internship for senior year. I’ll be working full-time and going to school. Lotta drummers around. I’ll hook you up.”
Billy rolled the keyboard case up to them. “Count me out, too. I made officer in ROTC.”
Jesse’s jaw clenched. He looked back and forth between his friends. “Like I can find new guys for Beach Rats just like that.” He snapped his fingers.
Billy pulled the case upright and leaned on it. “The Daytona State rag has ads for musicians all the time.”
“Musicians I’ve known all my life? Friends?”
Cisco wiped the sweat from his face with the crook of his arm. “Sorry, man. We’ll ask around.”
“Whatever.” Jesse stashed the high hat in Billy’s van and headed for the Neon. I feel like I’ve been run through with a Samurai sword. Great, now he sounded like Kallie. He had to get her out of his head. He loved Tía.
He slammed the trunk.
Avra stepped off the bus, not bothering to look to see if Cisco waited for her on the first day of their senior year. Only three months since he cheated on her, but it felt like years. Thankfully, God was piecing her heart back together like a million-piece jigsaw puzzle. She slung her backpack over one shoulder and rounded the corner of the Student Center.
A hand on her arm stopped her. She glanced at the thick oil-stained fingers, and her gaze flew to Cisco’s. Shock coursed through her body. She had braced herself to see Cisco with Isabel. But Isabel was MIA. What did Cisco say? She was drowning in the soft chocolate of his eyes.
Cisco’s hand still gripped her. “Avra, we gotta talk.”
I never want you to touch me again. She yanked her arm away.
His hand dropped to his side. “I’ve got things to say that you need to hear. Will you listen?” His eyes begged her to say yes. “Riverfront Park? Six fifteen?”
I don’t owe you anything, Cisco Carter. She stared back at him. “No—”
“Please.”
What was so important he had to tell her?
“Riverside Park. Six fifteen.”
“I’ll see.” Tremors ran t
he length of her body as she walked away.
Chapter 22
Kallie tossed the empty Skecher’s box onto the shed step and dropped down beside it. She’d heard Jesse traveled every weekend with his new band, so he wouldn’t show up here on a Saturday. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck. Jesse handed her his kiss-off song yesterday between classes. It staked through her heart, and she needed to exorcize it. And Jesse.
Why had she thought friendship with Tía would preserve some link with Jesse? She and Jesse had delved too deep to swim back to the surface. A mosquito landed on her thigh. She smacked it and rubbed the red and guts off on her shorts.
Even after the fight in her attic, Jesse kept giving her songs to critique. The trail of songs threaded all the way back to You’re Callin’ My Name exactly a year ago. There was even an occasional e-mail asking what she thought of a song he’d heard on the radio, a quote from Ethics in Communications class, and did she see the funny article in the Hometown News?
She’d sent him a Web page for vocalists, a plea for him to talk some sense into Cisco, Van Gogh’s Field of Poppies that touched her soul.
Of course, actual conversation ceased after the attic, except for the saccharine exchange at the Fourth of July celebration. When their eyes met by accident, Jesse looked away without speaking. She’d hurt him, and she didn’t have a clue how to make it better. Now, Tía. A cooling breeze smelling like salt and fish fanned her face.
“Neon Green,” Jesse’s kiss-off song, played in her head.
She’s the doctor’s daughter decked in
Orange, neon green. When she glides by,
We all turn to stare. Girl’s got
Sass. She’s smooth as glass—neon green.
Thinks she can read my mind. Thinks she
Knows my soul. Deluded, blinder
Than blind, imagination on
Overdrive; she’s out of her mind.
Never gonna be there for ya.
Never gonna bond. She’s comin’
Down the hall like a vapor—Neon
Green—she’ll disappear.
The sun inched lower in the sky, now backlighting the clouds. She squeezed her eyes shut to stop the song’s automatic replay in her head. Air ruffled the trees; birds talked to each other—life went on as normal—while she bled to death. Her dad’s rejection mystically welded to Jesse’s bayonet blows. Even falling for Tía had been less a betrayal than “Neon Green.”
Kallie pulled the song from her back pocket and unfolded it. She rubbed her fingers over the sheet, not reading. The words and the music already branded her soul. Her eyes slid over Jesse’s familiar script, tracing the letters. She held the page to her nose, inhaling the smell of ink and nothing. Her hands poised to tear up the song and bury it in the Skechers casket. But she couldn’t even destroy a song she hated. She folded it and laid it in the bottom of the box.
“Good-bye, Jesse,” she said to no one. On impulse, she scooped a handful of dirt into the shoebox, the ashes of their friendship.
She went inside in search of a shovel and wandered up to the attic. No items had been added or subtracted from the attic since the day she and Jesse shared a rainstorm. Good memories spun through her like the multicolored aluminum top from her childhood. The floor of the attic didn’t reach all the way to the eaves. She crawled to the edge of the flooring, set the sketcher’s box between two supporting two-by-fours, and slid it under the flooring. It was as good as buried.
Outside, clouds slid across the sky, exposing the sun as she turned toward the shed one last time. The tin glowed orange. She stared at it till the orange faded to dirty amber.
Stay dead.
Avra saw Cisco sitting on the seawall the second she rounded the corner from Canal Street onto Riverside Drive. Her heart lurched. He hunched over his folded hands as though he prayed. The cotton of his T-shirt stretched taut across his shoulders. White-brown curls had been tamed into a ponytail.
She wanted to turn around and never see him again. But what did he have to say to her? She swallowed. God, give me the strength to get through this. She took a deep breath and walked toward him.
Her Converse scraped the dirt behind him, and he twisted to look up at her. “You came.” Relief sounded in his voice.
She sat down and plunked her backpack between them. Folding her arms across her stomach, she stared at the sweep of the South Causeway Bridge—anywhere but his eyes.
Cisco’s bare feet dangled over the water. Dark hair curled on his toes, feet, and legs. He was so male, so other. She had never quite gotten over the awe of him. The familiar attraction tugged at her.
Memories flooded the silence—his arms engulfing her, his lips on hers, the passion they stirred, his quick exits to honor his promise to her father. But there had been no such departures from Isabel.
“I asked you to meet me here because your family is ticked at me.”
“So am I.”
“Yeah, I know.” Cisco bent over his steepled hands. Finally, he looked up at her. “After I talked to you on the Fourth of July, I made two decisions.” A muscle worked in his jaw. “I broke up with Isabel. Permanently.”
His eyes searched hers but she refused to give him a reaction. “You’re telling me this because—”
“Because I want you to know.” He cleared his throat.
A breeze off the river lifted the hair from around her face and cooled her neck. “And the other decision?” She sat motionless, expressionless, hardly breathing.
“How do you do that—stay so calm? This is drama here.” He waved his arms in the air between them.
“I don’t owe you a reaction, Francisco Carter.”
“You sound like Mamá when I’m in for it. You’re right, you don’t have to tell me how you feel. Actually, that’s one of the things I usually like about you. You’re not loco like my sisters.”
Don’t try to charm me. I’m not listening. I’m not listening—
He wrung his hands between his knees. “So, anyway, the other decision ...”
I’m listening.
“The Fourth of July after you laid me out—not that I didn’t deserve it—I came home to my Dad—the one waiting on the porch for me. He forgave the whole butt-load of my crap—some of which you know too well. I’ve been hanging out at Jesse’s church. I didn’t have the cojones to face you and your family.” He wound down like a deflating balloon that finally ran out of air. His hands stilled.
A surge of joy bloomed in her chest before cynicism mashed it down. “We’ll see if it takes better than abstinence did.”
“Ouch. I deserved that.” Cars crawled over the bridge, their exhaust puffing into the sky. The smell of dead fish hung in the air. “You said you wanted me to hurt as badly as I hurt you.” He looked her in the eye. “Trust me. You’re getting your digs in.”
She hugged her stomach and watched two ducks squabble on the river.
“Jesse’s church—they’re the suits. Even Jesse does the suit thing.” Some of the tenseness went out of his voice. “They been treating me real fine. The old ladies pinch my cheeks and feed me. They all think it’s way cool I hooked up with God.” He gave her a lopsided smile.
Her lips stretched into a smile almost without her permission.
“Uh, while you’re smiling ... will you forgive me for cheating on you, for—” He clamped his lips shut and started again. “I regret it to my bones. I wish I’d never done it. Please—please forgive me.”
Her chin dropped to her chest, and she fought to hold back tears that squeezed out the corners of her eyes and ran down her face. The shadow of Cisco’s arm reached for her, but it disappeared without his touching her. She dashed the tears away with her hands, irritated that she’d lost control.
Forgiveness is a choice I’m not ready to make right now, Lord. She sucked in a deep breath and let it out, lifted her chin to look at him. “I can’t—yet.”
Disappointment knifed through his eyes. He squared his shoulders. “I like those pret
ty pink toenails.”
“You lost your right to say things like that to me.”
He turned his body to face her, pushing her backpack into the grass with his foot. “I’d like to earn back the right.” He draped his hands limply over his bent knees in front of him, the color seeping out of his face.
“I need time.”
His gaze fell; his breath released. “I got time.” He stood. “While you’re thinking about it, would it be okay if I came back to your church? I dig Tad and those drums, and there’s no way I’m buying a suit. I don’t know how much longer I can hang at Jesse’s before the dress code police get me.”
“I guess.”
“Thanks.”
She accepted the hand-up Cisco offered. His grip was firm and too unsettling. As soon as she stood, she yanked away her hand from his.
“Uh, could you call off your brothers and tell your folks what I told you today?”
“Call off my brothers?” They headed toward Riverside Drive.
“Yeah, they’re just waiting for a chance to bust my ... uh ... Anyway, I’ve been watching my back all summer.”
She shook her head, incredulous. “Kurt and Drew haven’t gotten into fights since junior high.”
“Nobody ever messed with their sister.”
A smile crept across her face. She had to love those guys.
“Are you still smiling?” He stopped. “Uh—how about Saturday morning and the garbage truck?” He darted another look at her. “Just think about it. No strings. Just talk.”
She stepped off the curb to cross the street. “I don’t talk in the morning.”
A hint of a smile crossed his face. “I remember.” He held up his hands. I’ll talk—that’s all.”
“Maybe sometime.” In about five hundred years.
He read her tone and swallowed his disappointment. “This is where I get off.” He veered away at the corner. “I’m not coming near your house till you run interference for me. Too gutless.”
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