by Lila Felix
For a long while we sit together and I listen to his breaths as they beat a steady rhythm against my hair. He’s pulled me under his arm and my face lies on his chest.
It’s exactly where I want to be.
“Your aunt called me.”
I pop up and stare at him in utter confusion. “When did you and my aunt become so friendly? She talked you up at lunch like you were the crowned prince.”
After rolling his eyes, he continues. “At the party we had a little talk while you were schmoosing the patrons. She told me that she hoped I was part of the family one day and then before I could stop her, she’d texted herself, grabbing my phone out of my shirt pocket. She texted me after you left upset today.”
“They’re selling the house.”
“They already have an offer on it. It won’t go to auction.”
I nearly fly off the couch. “I guess that’s better than being auctioned off like a storage unit. I hope it goes to a family or at least someone who won’t tear it down.”
He doesn’t seem as upset about the situation as I want him to. I want him to be upset and livid.
“No one will tear down that house.”
I hear a little anger. But it’s not enough. We practically had our first date in that house, right there in the library and he’s not enraged or grouchy about someone else living there.
I can’t even look at my kitchen table without thinking about him.
I’ll keep that table until I die.
People aren’t sentimental anymore.
I decide to change the subject before I get carried away again and the Mason brothers try to drown me in holy water.
“When am I going to meet your parents?”
I make an incredulous face but from his angle, I know he can’t see it.
“I don’t know. You want me to take you over there now? My mom’s probably cooking up something totally inedible.”
He blows out a breath. It’s one of those breaths.
“You’re killing me, Ace. I’m trying to do everything right here. If this is going to be our future, then I need to meet your parents. It’s the right thing to do. It’s time.”
I recoil from the sternness in his voice. Clearly, meeting my parents is something he’s decided is important. I just don’t know why.
He never cared about meeting them before.
“We’ve been trying to have dinner together once a week. I’ll call my mom and see when that is. You can come.”
He nods. He’s acting weird.
Not normal weird, like weird for Ezra weird.
We sit around for the rest of the day. He doesn’t stay to eat dinner. After he gets some text on his phone, he dismisses himself, saying he has homework to do.
I still haven’t made it to the grocery store.
Or eaten most of the day.
After ordering delivery, I text Roman. I don’t know why I need to, but I do. For months and months, he’s been there for me.
I can dismiss his romantic advances, but I can’t dismiss him as a friend.
He texts back and we carry on a shallow texting conversation that feels robotic and forced.
After a text telling me that he’s starting to work night shifts, I don’t answer. There’s nothing to say.
Later that night, as I lay in bed, tossing and turning over the events of the day, thoughts of Ezra and wanting to meet my parents surface. I don’t know why it’s so important, but his simple request resonates with me.
“Hello?” My mom’s groggy voice drags through the phone after I decide to grant his wish.
“Are we having dinner together this week? We have to try.” I repeat the counselor’s mantra for our family, that we continue to try.
“Sure, Aysa. How about Thursday night? I’ll cook. Bring dessert.”
“That sounds perfect. And mom?”
“Yes?”
“I’m bringing Ezra.”
I hear a shuffle. “The one you’re in love with?” A moment of clarity hits me. This is exactly why Ezra needs to meet them. He’s right. If my family doesn’t know him, it’s almost like he doesn’t exist.
“Yes, mom. He wants to meet you both. It was his idea. Ariel has already met him.”
“Good. I’ll set an extra plate.”
“See you then.”
Ezra
I love Aysa, but she doesn’t make anything easy.
I suppose I don’t either.
Aysa texts me Tuesday morning to tell me that we’re having dinner with her parents on Thursday night. I’ll have to take another day off to go to my other appointment. My boss doesn’t really appreciate me taking so much time off all in a row, but after I explain the reason, he agrees, making me promise not to take off again for a while.
I should take Aysa’s advice and concentrate on school part-time, but I don’t want to use up all of Mara’s money in such a short period of time.
I owe it to her to take care of it like I promised.
The next two days are a blur. There’s so much to take care of in such a small amount of time. What I think is a simple task turns out to be a three hour long tedious job of signing my name more times than I have in my life-all in one sitting.
I rush home to change and shower before driving out to Aysa’s parents’ home. I haven’t seen her since Monday night.
Two days seem like a lifetime.
Her house, her childhood house is such a paradox where Aysa is concerned. The marble floors and mansion-like feel of the whole place is out of place. Aysa is unadulterated, simple beauty.
And this place exists just for show.
I’m afraid to knock at her door. I might leave knuckle prints on the glass. I press the doorbell and listen to the gong reverberate through the house. It’s not long after that Ariel, Aysa’s sister answers the door.
“Ezra, you’re early. Dad points.”
Ariel invites me in and I’ve brought the biggest arrangement of flowers available from the florist. They are nothing I would ever get for Aysa, in fact, I picked out the exact opposite of the arrangement I would choose for her and bought it.
“Oh, this must be Ezra. Ezra, I’m Mrs. Branton.” I expect her to continue with ‘Oh, call me by my first name’ but she never does. “Aysa and her father are out on the back porch. Why don’t you go out there while Ariel and I finish up dinner?”
“These are for you.” I hand the flowers over and she insists they are the prettiest flowers she’s ever seen.
It’s lost on me. Her voice carries the highest level of insincerity I’ve heard in a long time.
The back door opens to a large porch. The entire backyard is landscaped and I can count five fountains, all spewing water from various poses.
Aysa would never want that.
My presence interrupts a conversation between Aysa and what I assume is her father.
“Hey! I didn’t hear the doorbell.”
I cant my head slightly, letting her know that she’s a horrible liar. There are monks in Tibet that heard that gong.
“Dad, this is Ezra.”
My feet clomp on the porch as I walk toward him. He didn’t look impressed with me. I extend my hand he reluctantly takes it.
“Nice to meet you Ezra. Aysa was just telling me some things. I’m not sure how I feel about them. Why don’t you have a seat?”
Aysa is long gone. My ears picked up a faint giggle and then the sound of the screen door shutting let me know she’d taken her leave.
I won’t cower in regards to anything that has to do with Aysa.
“What are your concerns, Sir? I’m happy to clear up anything.”
He backs up in the rocking chair he has settled in. “You’re a straight shooter. I like that. What’s this about you giving Aysa money? If she needs money, she can come to me.”
This is where I lay it on heavy and solid. I don’t bullshit a single thing with Aysa’s dad. I wanted to meet him for this specific purpose.
There are things he needs to know.
<
br /> I will always take care of her.
I want her to marry me one day.
Behind her back, I’ve bought her a house.
The house she’s always dreamed of.
Mrs. Branton is waved away several times by Aysa’s father before he finally is ready to let our conversation stand.
I think he’s in shock.
He hasn’t said very much at all.
“Ray, please. Dinner’s been on the table for an hour. You two can finish this later.”
“Okay, Darla. We are coming.”
At least I know their names now.
He gets up slowly and stops at my side. “That dinner could sit there until kingdom come. Won’t make it taste any better. I hope you have a good poker face, son.”
I take the word son to heart, but maybe it’s too early for that.
I find out a few minutes later that he’s right. Nothing will help this meal.
The conversation is stiff and forced, just like Aysa and I were the other night. I don’t like it and make a note to solve whatever caused us to stumble into the same state her parents are in.
~
We stand outside her parents’ house hand in hand.
“That went okay?”
“It was excellent. I said everything I needed to say.”
Aysa rumples her brow. “Huh. Well, you made a good impression. He likes you.”
“How can you tell?”
“Because he told me. He mouthed it at the table. You were too busy pretending to like my mom’s cooking. I don’t think they could tell, but I can read you. You hated it.”
I shrug.
“You want to follow me home? Hang out?”
“Yes. I do. I haven’t gotten to kiss you in days.”
“I think we can manage that.”
We get to her house and barely make it through the door before she presses my back against the first wall and begins a torture I never saw coming.
Her mouth is heaven—pure, unadulterated heaven. I will never stop craving the way she tastes. Every time she kisses me, her body moves against mine in a different pattern. I never know what to expect. She keeps me guessing and ever wanting more.
“You’re going to stay with me?” She says in between sucking on my neck and biting my earlobe. I’m not sure she understands how incapable I am of conversation when she’s doing that.
“I have work tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
She says okay, but her hips say don’t go.
“I can stay for a while.”
“Good.”
Aysa
“There’s nothing that can be done?” I beg the director of the Mansfield historical society that consists of my aunt and three of her bridge friends.
“It’s already sold, Aysa. The man signed all of the paperwork yesterday and we gave him the keys. He paid in cash. It’s done.”
I throw my hands in the air, exasperated. “Is he even married? Tell me he has a cute little wife and some kids that will be nice to the place.”
Betty, my aunt’s best friend, giggled at something and then excused herself, saying she had a phone call. Her phone hadn’t even rang.
“He’s on the verge of getting engaged, if you must know. Forget it. What are you going to do for work?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is he nice? Just tell me who bought it.”
My aunt rolls her eyes. “Leave it be, Aysa. Move on. You’re killing me. Now go, we’re about to go to lunch and then play bridge.”
I think she can see the tantrum building in my face because she pinches my elbow and drags me outside all the time with grace in her step and a smile on her face.
“Aysa Branton you are the most aggravating of creatures when you get hooked on something. There were several offers on the house, all at once, but only one stood out and it was the highest. They gave me the choice on who to sell it to and I chose Ezra.”
The sun starts spinning and I don’t know why the sun would treat me that way. The sun hates me.
Ezra bought the house without telling me.
I’m furious.
I wonder if it’s possible to be heartbroken and doubly in love at once.
He always makes me feel two emotions at once.
He can’t just settle for one.
Now the sky is spinning too. The heavens have a personal vendetta against me.
“Aysa, don’t you dare faint on me. You just turned greener than the runner up at the Miss Cotton pageant.”
I’m glad she has my elbow. It’s the only thing keeping me upright.
“Do I need to call him?”
A spike of adrenaline punches me in the chest, jolting me back to life. I stand up, solid in myself again and almost scream. “Call Ezra! Call Ezra!”
“Oh dear. I wish you’d just go ahead and accept what is. You’re full of dramatics lately. It’s not very becoming, dear.”
“Sell it to someone else.”
“Aysa, think about what you’re saying. It’s done. It’s sold. The other offers were pathetic anyhow. The lowest one was your other friend, the athletic-looking one. The one I don’t like.”
“Roman?”
“Yes, that’s him. I’ve paid more for used cars than he bid on that house. What you should be doing is thanking the man who obviously loves you enough to buy you a house, the one house you’ve always wanted.”
“We’ll see.”
Ezra
As I shut the door to my truck after working all day, I get a phone call from Aysa’s aunt again. The woman is relentless.
“She knows.”
“What? How does she know?”
Aunt Hope had been at the closing of the house. She said she wanted to see it for her own eyes.
She said I reminded her of her late husband.
He’d bought her that house after they got engaged.
“She was here today throwing one of those fits like she does lately. I had to tell her. I thought she was going to ring my neck.”
There’s not an ounce of fear or truth in her voice.
Aysa is only sufficient at hurting herself.
“How’d she take it?”
“Expect a phone call, sweet boy. And not a good one.”
My phone beeps just as she mutters those words and it’s Aysa.
“That’s her.”
“Hold onto your butt.”
“Hello?”
“Can you come to my house, like now?”
“I’m on my way.”
I speed over there. I couldn’t tell anything by the sound of her voice. She actually sounded oddly calm.
When I reach her apartment, I can see Roman knocking on her door. Why he’s there, I don’t know.
There’s only one way to find out.
I open the door and walk into the scene. Roman’s eyes are bugging out of his head and Aysa is just pacing. I begin to approach her, to calm her down but she stretches her palm out in front of me like a crossing guard.
“I swear to God, Ezra. If you come over here. I’m gonna scream bloody murder.”
“I already tried it.” Roman grumbles.
“Maybe that’s the problem.” I quip back.
“No! This is not the time. You two do this some other time. Now, who’s got the balls to confess?”
The only noise in the place is her refrigerator.
“What did you two think? You thought I wouldn’t find out? It’s my aunt’s house. Well, I suppose it’s someone else’s house now. You could buy me a thousand houses and you…” She points at Roman. “Would still be my friend and you,” She points back at me. “Would still be the only man I love. I’m not for sale. What were you two thinking?”
She’s more furious than I’ve ever seen her, but I don’t understand her fury. I never wanted to see that much rage cross over her pristine features. As she speaks, she twists the prayer box between her fingers. I speak up before she says something she’ll regret. I can take anything she dishes out, but I don’t wan
t her to have to live with her words.
“Aysa, we didn’t think that at all. I didn’t even know Roman had placed an offer. I wanted to buy you the place that you loved from your childhood. I wanted to buy the place where I first fell in love with you, right there in that library. And of course I don’t think you’re for sale. You loved me before that house and I’ve loved you before that house.”
I know she knows I bought the house.
My romantic antics didn’t soothe her anger. A hundred regrets flutter through my mind all at once. Who buys a girl a house with the money left to him by his dead girlfriend’s parents? Who buys a girl a house, period? This man. Me.
A flood of renewing knowledge pushes in like a tidal wave. I did this for her. I didn’t do this on a whim for some girl to impress her. I bought something that meant the world to the woman that I want to be my wife.
I gave her the one thing she couldn’t give herself.
Now to make her see that.
She’s being irrational.
“So, who got the house?”
Obviously, I’d won. I closed on the damned thing. The offers I’d seen were in the lower side and I’d bid high the first time. Aunt Hope tipped me off and I doubled what she thought would seal the deal. I made sure that house was hers.
“They said I didn’t even get close. I know it wasn’t me.” Roman kicks the ground.
I look at the floor regretting my first bid, my only bid. She hates me for it and my one present to her was ruined. There is no point in keeping it secret now. Anyway, she knows.
“You know who won, Aysa. I won it. I doubled the highest offer and I closed on the damned thing Thursday.”
She stumbles backward two steps. I reach out to help her, but she slaps my hand away. “Ezra, the offer was three hundred thousand dollars.”
“I have money. I wanted to buy it for you. For us. You said it would be a good family home. That’s all I want with you. It made sense. I don’t know why you’re so upset.”
Roman walks away, slamming the door behind him. He’s mumbling to himself. Aysa’s face is unreadable for the first time in her life. She won’t let me get near her, so I shrink into the corner, waiting her out.
“How do you manage this all the time?”
“Manage what?”
“To do the most off the wall thing and somehow it just sets my heart on fire? Did you blow all of your money and Mara’s? Christ Almighty, Ezra, what were you thinking? Were you even thinking at all? I’m not worth all of this. I am not worth this trouble. Now you’ve spent your money on what?”