Avra's God

by Ann Lee Miller

  “I’ll tell them what you said.” She peered into the depths of his eyes. This might be the last time she’d have the chance to really look at him. Had he changed? She didn’t know if she had the strength to find out.

  Cisco jammed his hands into his pockets and watched Avra walk away. Well, that certainly went crappy. He was only getting what he deserved.

  No reaction to his breaking up with Isabel. None. What had he expected? That she would fling herself into his arms? Right. So he quit sleeping around. Pin a medal on his chest.

  The God story had been different. He’d seen joy in her eyes before she bulldozed it with the abstinence jibe.

  He watched Avra cross Washington. At least today was over. He’d given it his best shot. He didn’t know whether to hope.

  Jesus, you know what I want. I don’t deserve Avra. I don’t deserve anything. But, I’m asking.

  Chiodos’ hardcore emo Lindsay Quit Lollygagging played in his head. He was so screwed.

  Tía poked her head into Zig’s garage. “Jesse, I need to talk to you.”

  He’d started with the band a month ago, and Tía had interrupted practice seven times. One glance and he read crisis on her face. What was it this time? “Back in five,” he said to Zig. He shrugged at Bailey and Mac like What could you do? He bit back his irritation and followed her out the side door.

  Damp wind hit him in the face. The sky had been spitting on and off all day. They sat on a cement planter in Zig’s overgrown front yard. The chill climbed through his clothes. He rubbed his hands together and tucked them in his armpits wishing he’d grabbed his windbreaker on his way out.

  He stared at Tía, waiting, forcing the song they’d been rehearsing out of his head. She’d buttoned her thrift store leather coat to the neck. Her denim skirt covered the tops of her scuffed boots. She looked warm and exotic and beautiful. Unshed tears sheened her eyes.

  “I don’t love you,” she blurted. “I woke up this morning and I just knew.”

  What?

  She burst into tears. Always before, she’d cried in Jesse’s arms. But now she buried her face in her hands and sobbed alone. A tiny bubble of relief popped to life and splattered in his head. Sun sliced through the clouds, firing her hair with henna like the anger heating in his gut. Usually, he detached from Tía’s hysterics, but not today. “Look at me.”

  She sat up and silenced, tears slicking her cheeks.

  “You can’t make a declaration like that without talking it over. What we have is huge.” He waved his arms wide. “We can work it out. Did I forget to call you? What?” He leaned his palms on the rough cement and searched her eyes.

  “Why can’t I make a declaration like that? You didn’t object when I told you I loved you two days after we met. That’s just how things are with me.”

  There was no arguing with Tía’s logic. “What changed your mind?”

  “Your family doesn’t like me—”

  “They’ll get used to you.”

  “You’re too authoritative.”

  “You said you liked the way I take charge,” he countered.

  “I don’t like it any more. And you’re too short.”

  He sat back and the jagged edge of the planter dug into his back. “I’m 5’10”, too short to play pro basketball, but I’m six inches taller than you. That’s a stupid reason to quit loving me.”

  “You’re always with the band, practicing, on the road.”

  His mouth dropped open. “It’s my dream. I thought you were all over the girlfriend of a rocker thing.”

  “Yeah, I’m over it. I want a boyfriend who’s here.”

  “You’d stick it out if you loved me.”

  “I don’t.” It was the calmest, coolest sentence he’d ever heard Tía utter.

  Tía grabbed handfuls of hair from around her face and pushed them over her shoulders as she stood. “Good-bye, Jesse.”

  Chapter 23

  Cisco eased the Geo up to the curb beside Avra’s house.

  The rain had stopped and the air steamed off the asphalt under an eerie orange sky.

  Kurt and Drew tossed a football between them.

  His gut clenched. They’d been brothers to him for most of a year. Yeah, he needed to get back with them if he had any hope of winning Avra, but he missed their friendship, regardless. He missed throwing ball, being looped into their banter.

  They had to have heard his car, but they didn’t look in his direction. He sucked in a breath. Jesus, I could use some help here. He climbed out and shut the door. His toe kicked a pile of dead leaves on the sidewalk, plopping soggy debris inches from his foot.

  Drew glanced up. “Here’s trouble.”

  Kurt looked over his shoulder. “Go away, Avra’s not here.”

  Cisco held up his hands for a pass. “Didn’t come to see Avra.”

  Kurt drilled the ball into Cisco’s chest.

  “Ooph. Still ticked, huh?” Cisco lofted the ball back to Kurt.

  Kurt pounded him again. “You suck, man. Avra better never take you back.”

  Cisco clamped down on the ball and jogged back a couple of steps to absorb the impact. “You’re right. I don’t deserve her back.” He sailed the ball toward Drew, who passed to Kurt. “When I screwed up I lost Avra, you guys—” Honor.

  “Maybe you should have thought about that before you unzipped your pants,” Kurt said.

  The three circled in, eye-to-eye.

  Cisco looked down at the damp grass. He shuffled his feet. “No secrets in this family, huh?”

  “Avra didn’t say anything. Word gets around Daytona State,” Kurt said.

  Cisco eyed Kurt’s stony face. “I’m sorry I hurt Avra. I’m asking your forgiveness.”

  “How do we know you won’t do it again?” Drew said.

  “God.” Cisco’s gaze bore into Drew. “He forgave me, and now I want to get it right. That, and my word.”

  Kurt barked a mirthless laugh. “Your word is jack—”

  “All I can say is I still love Avra, and I want to marry her someday.” Cisco handed the ball to Kurt and turned away from the glacier of their rejection. He turned back. “Uh ... I’d appreciate it if you’d not mention the marriage thing. In the unlikely event I ever get the chance, I’d like to bring it up to Avra myself.” He buried his hands in his jean pockets, hunched his back, and stepped toward his car.

  The sky deepened to violet. A gust of wind blew clumps of cut grass across the street.

  The ball nailed him between the shoulder blades, knocking wind from his lungs—and his last breath of hope for reconciliation. He stumbled and caught himself. He wrenched the car door open, got in, and drove away without looking back.

  Cisco puttered down Faulkner Street. He checked the clock on his phone. Six forty-five a.m. He and Avra used to meet at seven.

  She’d barely acknowledged him since Monday at the river—much less agreed to meet him. And she hated mornings. He braced himself, picturing the empty porch swing creaking on its chains. He braked as he came alongside the house.

  A speck of pink.

  Yes! Avra sat wrapped in a quilt with her legs stretched across the swing. Thank you!

  Warmth started in his chest and crawled out to his limbs. Hope. He took the steps two at a time. “Mornin’.” He stood looking down at her. “Thanks. I didn’t expect you to be here.”

  She stared at him with wary eyes.

  He looked around and sat on the wide porch railing where he used to sit a long, long time ago. He leaned his back against the porch pillar and crossed his legs at the ankles along the railing. “So, you’re wide awake this morning.”

  “Didn’t sleep much—thinking about this. I want to hear the whole story.”

  She went straight for the jugular. Yeah, she had what it took to play forward all right. He crossed his arms on his chest. “It’s history. Don’t want to talk about it.” He looked at his stony reflection in the window behind Avra.

  “I need to hear it. I need to know exactly w
hat I’m supposed to forgive.”

  No way. He shook his head, looking at the garbage truck inching along the far end of the street—anywhere, but at Avra.

  “There is nothing you can tell me that’s going to hurt me more than I’ve already been hurt.” Avra turned to face him and dropped her feet on the floor. “Either start talking or leave.”

  He squatted in front of her. “Don’t make me do this, Avra, please.”

  “You ran into Isabel at the kegger ...”

  He sat on the floor and stared at the gray painted slats between his knees. “I was with her a couple of times before I met you. She’s been after me all year, but I ignored her. At the party she came on to me ...”

  Avra siphoned the truth out of him sentence by sentence. “... beer ... back of Billy’s van ... together till the Fourth of July.” He hung his head between his knees, not wanting to look at her eyes. The garbage truck had come and gone, but his garbage was still strewn across the porch.

  “Do you love her?” Avra’s voice choked with tears.

  His head jerked up. “No.”

  She wiped tears from her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “Why did you do it?”

  He looked at her for a long time before he could spit out the truth. “I used her.” If possible, he felt even more shame. “It was lust.”

  “How could you say you love me and do this to me?”

  “It wasn’t about you. It was all about my selfishness.”

  “How would you feel if I did the same thing with Billy or Morgan?”

  His eyes shot to hers. “You wouldn’t.”

  “I thought about it.”

  He clenched his jaw picturing Avra with a guy like he’d been with Isabel. Indignation, rage, and, finally, realization swept through him. This is how Avra felt—only for more than thirty seconds. He went up on his knees and gripped her arms through the quilt. “Avra, I give you my word; I am not going down that road again. I’m living by the Book.”

  Avra stared him down till he dropped his hands.

  She seemed to relax when he let go. “Pray with me?” She looked at him, waiting.

  “Come again?”

  “Praying is something Christians do together.”

  “Yeah, Tad always prays for me when we’re together. But, he does the praying.”

  “You don’t have to. I just thought God might help us get through this.”

  “You mean through the pile of crap I’ve dumped on your porch?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Now you sound like me.” He smiled in spite of the major ache stabbing his gut. “Let’s do it.” He sat on the opposite end of the swing.

  Avra leaned forward and bowed her head. “Jesus, I want to forgive Cisco for all the stuff I heard today, but I can’t. He beat me black-and-blue. I hurt too much. I know You can do anything—even give me power to forgive Cisco. Please.” Silent sobs shook her whole body.

  Seeing her cry for the first time made him feel like a fish under a filleting knife. He reached for her, but let his arm drop on the back of the swing. He knew she didn’t want him to touch her.

  Her shoulders quivered. Her hands reached under a veil of hair. When her hands came out, morning sun glistened on her wet knuckles. After a while she calmed and curled back up in the corner of the swing.

  He focused on the hibiscus bush beyond the porch railing. “Jesus, I know You’ve heard this all before, but I want to say it again with Avra listening. I don’t know how You did it, but You took the punishment for everything I had to tell Avra today. Still hard to believe, even with Tad beating it into my head. But, I’m sorry for hurting You, for hurting Avra, and even for hurting Isabel. I don’t have the right to ask You for anything more, but, for Avra’s sake, will You heal all the things I broke inside her?” He scrubbed the dampness out of his eyes with the balls of his hands.

  “I’m so sorry, babe.” He made himself look at the pain in her eyes till he couldn’t bear it anymore. He stood and walked off the porch. She’d never take him back. He was sure of it.

  Jesse smacked his palm against his guitar strings, stilling their sound. “The song reeks!” He paced Zig’s one-car garage in short, angry steps. “Bailey, it’s an A flat after the F minor. Play it the way it’s written. Mac, pick up the tempo, would you? Come on, guys, what’s with you today?”

  A muscle jumped in Mac’s grizzled jaw. He opened his mouth to yell back at Jesse, but Zig cut him off.

  “What’s with you?” Zig stood behind the keyboard on the grease-stained cement.

  Bailey shot Jesse an ugly hand gesture. “I’m takin’ five.” He laid his bass in its stand and brushed by Jesse. His shaggy blonde mop disappeared into Zig’s kitchen.

  Zig’s eyes narrowed at Jesse. “You’re not in charge here.”

  “If you’d do your job, I wouldn’t have to be,” Jesse huffed.

  “Look, Jesse, you’ve been like a chick with PMS since you walked in here today.” Zig motioned with his head. “Get outta here. Come back tomorrow when you’re in your right mind.”

  Jesse slammed his guitar into its case and kicked it half way across the garage against a bag, spewing kitty litter. Jenna and two other girls jumped out of the way.

  Jesse glared at the girls.

  They stood open-mouthed beside the water heater.

  “What are you looking at?”

  Grabbing the guitar, Jesse stormed out the side door into the yard. The cool, orange-blossom-scented air did little to soften his mood. Tromping across Zig’s dandelion lawn toward the street, Jesse jammed his thumb down on Cisco’s speed dial number.

  He spewed for several minutes between Cisco’s grunts. He grabbed a deep breath.

  “Jesse, this isn’t about tempo or A flats and you know it. Go run the high school track till you quit wanting to kill something.”

  Jesse curled his lip. “Like h—”

  “Do it. You wanna have to buy a new stinkin’ guitar? Trust my mamá, you’re gonna feel better. Then we’re gonna talk about what’s got you so hot—whether you like it or not. Go on.” Cisco’s phone clicked off.

  Jesse’s eyes narrowed and he tossed his capo onto the air several times. He turned and hurled it as far as he could toward US 1 two blocks away.

  Cisco took a deep breath and speed-dialed Avra for the first time since before she broke up with him. Don’t let her be P.O.’d.

  “Pray for me?”

  “Uh, sure.” Avra’s voice was tentative.

  So far so good. “Jesse’s headed this way steamed to the gills. He’s gotta get whatever it is off his chest. I want to help—not screw it up.”

  “Okay.”

  He needed to hear the words. “On the phone?”

  Avra’s prayer filtered through the phone and washed over him.

  I’m ready for you, Jess. Bring it on. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” He thought he heard a smile in her voice, but he could have imagined it.

  Jesse stared at the triangle of sweat on the chest of his T-shirt in front of the car bays at Stuart’s Car Care Center forty-five minutes after Cisco ordered him to run the track around the football field. He was too wiped to know whether Cisco’s prescription had helped.

  Cisco pulled his head out from under the hood of a Ford Windstar. “I wondered if you’d show. Feel better?”

  Jesse shrugged, wiped sweat from his face with the crook of his arm.

  “Almost done here.” Cisco stuck his head back under the hood.

  He paced the cement at the mouth of the garage till Cisco walked him around the side of the building.

  Cisco folded his arms and leaned against the door of his Geo. “Spit it out.”

  Jesse stared across Washington Street at the back end of Fisher’s Body Shop.

  “Come on, man; we been through everything together since we were, what, four?”

  He leaned his palms on Cisco’s car and hung his head “I saw Tía get into Kyle O’Brien’s car.”

  Cisco whistled.
“Two thousand nine royal blue Mustang.”

  “Right. She should have just fired a twenty-two through my liver.” He barked a laugh. “Now I sound like Kallie. I just want to go through one day not angry. It’s been weeks since she ditched me. I’m stuck here—and sick to death of feeling like this.”

  “And you’re mad because?”

  “Uh, hello? Because she ditched me.”

  “And ...” Cisco made a rolling motion with his arm.

  He grabbed the back of his neck. “I was too short, too dictatorial. My family doesn’t like her. I’m gone with the band too much ... She hurt my pride, I guess. It’s weird, because when we were together, I had never felt better about myself. I was, like, her savior, always rescuing her from some emotional meltdown. And she’d look at me with those big adoring eyes. I guess it was all a lie.”

  “You love her?”

  Jesse leaned against the Geo’s hood. “Who knows? I obsessed about when I could touch her.”

  “You gotta forgive her, man, or this thing is gonna eat you alive.”

  “She doesn’t deserve it.”

  “Do I deserve Avra’s forgiveness? She needs to forgive me so she’s not whacked.” Cisco hooked his hands in his pockets and looked at Jesse. “You’re not going to get the anger off your back till you forgive the chick.”

  Jesse smiled. “Like Mom used to put me and Cal on either end of the piano bench till we forgave each other.”

  “Exactly.”

  Jesse glanced at a seagull soaring in the blue overhead. “Avra forgave you?”

  “She’s working on it.”

  He pushed off the hood and reached his knuckles toward Cisco. “Thanks, Bro. Tell Avra she’s giving me a lot to think about.” He climbed into his car.

  “Done.”

  Jesse pulled onto Dixie Freeway. “Lord.” The word sounded foreign on his lips. He cleared his throat. He hadn’t talked to God in a long time. He hated going to him when he needed something. But he was desperate. “What do You say? Will You give me the—whatever it is I need—to forgive? And give it to Avra, too.”