Say Forever (Something More)

by Tara West

  My Frosty doesn't come out too bad either, even though he leans a little bit to the right. Andrés dubs him The Leaning Tower of Snowman and then Gio decides to knock off his head with a turkey leg.

  I decide not to be bothered by it. Today is still by far my best Christmas ever, because the people I love most in the world are sharing it with me. The food is great, and my mom and stepdad bought me a beautiful winter coat and matching boots plus an awesome SLR digital camera, complete with zoom and a macro lenses.

  My mom loves the personalized gift I made her, a scrapbook with all my childhood pictures that I "acquired" from my adoptive mom's house while she was at her weekly pluck and color appointment. I also give her a beautiful silk scarf, green to match her eyes. We bought Doc several kinds of exotic teas, since he's into that stuff. They give Andrés a San Antonio Spurs sweatshirt and a blue and silver daddy diaper bag packed full of bottles and newborn diapers. Andrés graciously thanks them, despite their hint that they want him to take an active part in raising the baby.

  Then Mom winks at me while proclaiming loudly she hopes Andrés will get to use the bag often. I can feel the heat from Andrés's embarrassment radiating in waves. As I lean into him, I feel like I'm pressed against a furnace. I am only slightly miffed by my mom's hint. After all, Andrés does work way too many hours, and I've been worrying more and more that he may be too busy to help with the baby.

  Afterward, Andrés takes my brothers outside and teaches them how to operate the remote control helicopters we bought them. Manny cries when Gio "accidentally" knocks his helicopter into a bush. Gio cries when Manny chases after his helicopter with a plastic baseball bat.

  Doc finally comes outside and tells my brothers it's time for a nap. This makes them cry even harder. I kiss them each goodbye and tell them to stay off the naughty list or else Santa will take back their presents. That seems to do the trick, as they both clam up and let Doc lead them to bed.

  Even though my mom is disappointed, we have to make our goodbyes. Since the dreams started back up, Andrés does not feel comfortable spending the night anywhere but his sofa. On the way home, we make one more stop. Andrés delivers presents to James's sons. James was Andrés's best friend in the Army, and his widow's home is not too far from my mom's house. Though the boys are about my brothers' ages, their personalities are as different as night and day. They accept Andrés's presents with a polite, "Thank you, sir" and play quietly in the other room while Andrés and I visit with James's wife and her new fiancé.

  We're both shocked to learn she's remarrying. I think Andrés takes it harder than he lets on, as he's unnervingly quiet during the ride back to Austin. I don't know if it's because I'm tired of Andrés's pensive mood, or else I'm just tired, but just as we reach that half-way point, I take another nap. It's past nightfall when we pull into our apartment carport. I'm so exhausted, I can hardly heave myself out of the car. I'm relieved when Andrés sees me struggling and carries me to our apartment. He lays me down in bed, kisses my forehead and tells me he's got to go finish unloading.

  That's all I remember before I fall back to sleep.

  ***

  I jump up in bed, startled at the sound of Andrés's screams coming from the other room. I toss aside my sheets and hurry to the living room, cursing as I trip over the edge of a rug, nearly falling face first onto the floor.

  His screams are louder, and it sounds like he's fighting with someone, but it's so dark I can barely see.

  I rub my hands across the wall and hit the switch. I spin around to see Andrés turned sideways on the sofa, punching the cushion so hard, the stuffing is coming out.

  "Andrés!" I cry as I rush to his side. I jump back when he thrashes about, barely missing his arm as it swings wildly at me. "Andrés!" I cry again. "Wake up!"

  He thrashes about some more, only this time, less violently. Then he stills. He groans a bit and rubs the sleep from his eyes before finally looking up at me with a dazed expression.

  It's only then I breathe a sigh of relief. I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath, waiting, worrying he wouldn't wake.

  Andrés slowly sits up on his elbows, his brow creases into a heavy frown. He rubs his hand through his hair and turns his gaze toward the battered pillow cushion. He reaches for a frayed end and then twirls a bit of stuffing around his finger. Finally, he heaves a sigh before looking up at me.

  The pain in his glossy eyes is enough to make my heart break.

  "See why I can't sleep with you, mija?"

  His shoulders cave inward, and he pulls his knees to his chest and withdraws into himself. I lean down and reach for him, but he pulls away. This can't be happening. This can't be my Andrés, my strong, confident, hero. But as I watch him withdraw further and further away from me, there' s no denying the truth. Andrés is falling apart. Guilt and self-loathing surge through me as he asks me to go back to bed. This wedding, this baby, has pushed him over the edge.

  Chapter Twelve

  Andrés

  Cursing, I hang up with the scheduler at the VA hospital. She says Doctor Barnes is on leave and would I like to see some other shrink? Hell, no. I'm not waiting in line at some grocery store check stand for the next cashier. Do they really expect me to start over with a new doctor every time I need help? Oh, well. I guess it's for the best. Cars still need maintenance during the holidays, and I've got to train two new mechanics today.

  I slip my phone into my pocket and refill my coffee before I check on Christina again. She's still sleeping. I feel bad that I woke her last night. She doesn't need the extra stress of worrying over me in her condition. Add to that the fact that my aunt and her mom are pulling her in different directions about this wedding. I've got the feeling that this wedding shit is going to get worse before it gets better. Hell, at this point, I'd be happy if Christina and I ran off to Vegas. It would be a lot less fuss and drama, plus I'd be able to get away from my job for a few days.

  If only.

  I hate to sound ungrateful, but I hate my job more and more each day. But what choice do I have? I need to support my new family. My mind keeps racing back to Christmas Eve when my Uncle Arturo pulled me aside and asked me to quit Cruz Automotive and go work for him. Uncle Arturo owns a popular Mexican restaurant chain in San Antonio, and he says he's expanding to catering. His only child, my cousin Marie, doesn't show any interest in working for the family. She's still set on going to law school. Arturo says he needs someone he can trust working for him. He says he can tell I'm unhappy and I'm missing my true calling.

  What sucks is I know he's right. Even Christina has joked I should have been a chef instead of a mechanic. I'm so damned tired of the smell of auto grease on my hands. When it's my night to cook, and I'm immersed in the heavenly scents of garlic and cilantro, that's when I'm truly happy. Sure, I know how to fix cars. I'm good at it, but I don't enjoy it. It's something I learned to do spending summers at Tio's shops since I was a kid. I've always preferred cooking tamales and enchiladas with my aunts and Uncle Arturo to changing a fan belt.

  But it's too late for wishing what could have been. I've committed myself to taking over Tio's businesses. He's the one who raised me, not my Uncle Arturo. How would Tio feel if I left Cruz Automotive? He'd be crushed. This man has done so much for me since my mother died when I was six years old. I can't turn my back on him now. Besides, Tio's businesses are a sure thing. This catering venture with Uncle Arturo could flop. Then where would that leave Christina and the baby? No, I've got to suck it up and learn to like my job, even if it kills me.

  ***

  Christina

  I spend the morning alternating between worrying over Andrés and painting cyclamen on my dress. These tiny pink and red flowers can be found on the perennial plants growing along the bank of the Riverwalk. I was so taken by them when Andrés and I first visited San Antonio, I knew I had to paint them on my gown. They remind me of that night we spent together, when he opened up about his past. Though it was heartbreaking learning about th
e death of his best friend in Afghanistan, it was a turning point in our relationship, the moment I realized I wanted to be with Andrés forever. And despite the difficulties we're facing right now, my love for him hasn't wavered. If anything, I love him more. Andrés told me he was going to call his doctor today. I hope this guy is able to help him.

  After I finish painting, I take a shower and make myself a stack of pancakes. I practically scarf the whole platter. I can't believe how hungry I am, and I'm honestly thinking about making more, but I remember Andrés telling me I need to eat healthy. That's when I realize I have no idea what I should be eating. I sit in front of my laptop with what's left of my one cup of coffee and download several pregnancy books onto my e-reader.

  The first book I open is huge, so I quickly scroll through the first month. Our baby looks like a little pea. I still can't believe he or she will one day grow into a human being. I skim through the advice about morning sickness. Luckily, other than a little nausea and fatigue in the mornings, I haven't thrown up since last weekend at my mom's house. I've figured out I'm okay as long as I don't eat breakfast too early. The book also says I should be taking prenatal vitamins, so I make a mental note to pick some up. Sadly, the author also advises I should limit my coffee intake to one cup per day. Damn. But there's nothing restricting my pancake limit, so I turn off my e-reader and make another batch.

  Just as I finish licking my plate clean, I hear a knock on the door. I groan when I see Tia and Marie through the peephole. I remember Tia telling me she wanted to come see my dress. I wish she would have called first, so I could at least prepare for their visit, like go upstairs and hide in Grace's apartment until they left.

  I slowly exhale and try to calm my frayed nerves as I unlock the door and swing it open. "Hi, Tia!" I lock eyes with her and intentionally ignore Marie standing behind her. She's not the only one who can play the bitch game.

  Tia pulls me into a tight hug and pats my cheek before walking past me. I follow her gaze as she does a quick sweep of my compact kitchen. I haven't had time to clean my pancake mess, and I know it looks like a batter bomb went off all over my stovetop. Marie follows behind Tia, refusing to acknowledge me as well. I want to slap that smug expression off her face as she surveys my home. She looks at Tia with raised brows, and I can read the meaning behind her smirk. That I'm a lazy, pregnant slob.

  "Sorry for the mess," I say as I brush past them and set my dish in the sink. "I just finished breakfast. If I'd known you were coming," I add with a touch of annoyance, "I would have eaten earlier."

  "Christina, you're just finishing breakfast?" Tia makes a big show of checking her watch. "It's past eleven."

  "I don't like eating too early." I shrug a shoulder and wipe down the stove with a dishrag. What I really mean to say is I can't eat early because of my morning sickness. I realize they know I'm pregnant, but I'm in no mood to acknowledge the elephant in the room. It will only incite more snickers from Marie. Not that I care what she thinks, anyway.

  "What have you been doing all morning?" Marie asks me accusingly.

  None of your fucking business, I say to myself. God, how I want to voice my thoughts aloud, if only Tia wasn't in the room. I plaster on another smile, this one so taut, I feel my face may break. "I was painting my wedding gown."

  "Painting it?" Tia gasps.

  "Yes," I say, puzzled by her reaction, "with little cyclamen flowers."

  But Tia only stares at me with a look of horror in her wide-eyes. Marie looks away as she mumbles something in Spanish.

  I lead them down the hall to the spare bedroom, which we turned into my art studio. I don't know why, but as I hear their footsteps behind me, a heaviness settles in my chest and I feel as if I'm marching to the rhythm of my own funeral.

  I open the door and turn on the lights. A fan is propped up on an old dictionary in one corner of the room, blowing across the floor on full speed. The dress is laid out on the carpet, drying on top of plastic sheets.

  "Aye Dios mio!" Tia shrieks.

  "Red on a wedding dress?" Marie folds her arms and shakes her head. "Seems a little unorthodox."

  I cock a hand on my hip and glare at her. "Good thing I'm not having an orthodox wedding."

  Tia splays one hand across her heart and gapes at the dress with a slackened jaw. "How do I explain this to our priest?"

  "He's not going to like it," Marie snickers.

  "What priest?" I ask. Andrés and I have only gone to his family's church once, and that was for a baptism of one of his cousins. I vaguely remember meeting the priest.

  Tia backs up a step, bumping into the door frame and then clutching it like a lifeline. "Don't tell me you're not having Father Navarro marry you."

  "Are you even a Catholic?" Marie asks.

  My gaze sweeps from Tia to Marie, and I get this sinking feeling in my gut. Why are they turning this wedding dress into a criminal interrogation? "My parents never took me to church."

  Tia makes a sign of the cross and then clasps her hands in a prayer pose.

  Marie waves a hand at me like she's shooing away a fly. "I don't think Father Navarro can marry her, anyway."

  Tia purses her lips and regards me for a long moment. "There might be time to make you a Catholic before the wedding."

  Make me a Catholic? "I'm not really into organized religion."

  "This is not how I envisioned Andrés's wedding." Tia's shoulders fall as she sulks out of the room.

  I follow her, the sound of Marie's laughter ringing at my heels. "My mom said she's hiring a minister. It will still be a Christian wedding."

  "Yes, but it's not the same," Marie says behind me.

  Tia nods toward Marie. "I'll talk to Father Navarro and see if there's anything that can be done." Then she gives me the once over, scowling at me all the way down to my toes. "I was about your size when I got married. I bet my dress will fit you."

  My chest tightens. I have given up so much already. I am not giving up my dress. "I like my dress. Once it's finished it will be pretty."

  Tia wags a finger at me, scowling. "Red flowers on a bridal gown? Do you know what that means?"

  I shrug. "To me, the flowers represent love." Somehow, I don't think I'm going to like Tia's interpretation.

  Tia looks at me with sorrowful eyes as if she's about to tell me I've got some incurable disease.

  "It's like waving a red flag around announcing to everyone you're pregnant." Tia throws up her hands. "It means you're soiled."

  I jerk back, feeling her verbal rebuke like a slap to the face. "I love those flowers."

  Marie eyes me coolly. "Is there any way you can change the colors?"

  I clench my hands and square my shoulders. There is no way they are interfering with my dress. No way. "It's permanent paint."

  Tia waves me off with a flick of the wrist. "I'll bring my dress over tomorrow. Hopefully it will fit. And don't forget to call your mom about the caterer." She holds up her fingers and starts counting off orders. "Tell her we will handle the food. Also, we'll get the band. Better yet, give me your mom's number, and I'll call her."

  I'm pretty sure my jaw hits the floor at this point. Tia didn't come over here to see my dress. She came over to assert control over my wedding. Anger boils up inside me and I swear my ears are going to start shooting steam any moment. Just as I'm about to give Tia a piece of my mind, Marie cuts me off.

  "I need to use your bathroom."

  I've gone numb from shock and anger, and I rigidly direct her to the bathroom in our bedroom. I think about taking her into the guest bathroom, but the sink is full of paints, and I know she'd love to make a snide comment about the mess.

  I cringe when we walk inside my bedroom. Andrés's socks and underwear are balled up on the floor and the bed isn't made. I'm sure she'll report back to Tia that my bedroom is sloppy, too. Without saying a word, I point to the bathroom door next to my dresser and turn to leave.

  "So when are you due?"

  I slowly turn on my heel
and lock gazes with Marie. I don't like the sing-song tone of her voice. Her artificial sugary sweetness is a lame attempt at masking her true feelings.

  "I don't know." I shrug and examine the paint splatter stuck to my fingernails, pretending indifference, when I'd much rather wrap my hands around Marie's throat. "I don't go to the doctor until next week."

  Marie turns up her chin and flashes her most dazzling smile. I'm not fooled. I eye her warily when I recognize the loathing in her eyes, the same gleam The Cobra would give one of her enemies right before she was about to strike.

  She arches a brow while tossing her hair back. "How convenient that you get pregnant right before my cousin is about to inherit a fortune."

  If I was angry before, it was nothing compared to the fury that infuses my skull now. "Excuse me?" I say on a hiss as I narrow my eyes at her. Marie has been dumping on me ever since Christmas Eve, and I'm about fed up with taking her shit.

  Her brows dip beneath her bangs. "Cruz Automotive. My uncle's giving him five shops. Andrés will be rich." She says this as if it's supposed to be some big surprise. Yeah, I know about Andrés's inheritance, but I loved him way before I knew this, back when he was just a mechanic living in a tiny apartment.

  "Are you saying that's why I got pregnant?" A stupid question, and I instantly regret the words as they pour from my mouth, but I'm so stunned by her rude accusation I don't know what else to say.

  "Why else do girls get pregnant?" She bats her lashes and flashes a smug smile.

  I clench my hands so tight, I can feel nails breaking skin. It's so hard, so very hard not to slap that fake smile off her face. "It was an accident."

  She snickers and then bobbles her head around like a diva on crack. "So you're calling my baby cousin an accident?"

  I'm tired of this word war with Marie. I'm so furious, my head is starting to spin, and I fight the urge to rub my aching temples. I don't need this kind of stress, especially not in my condition, but I don't dare show her how much she's upsetting me. She'll only think I'm looking for sympathy.