by Rachel Cross
“So, Robbie tricked me into coming here to meet you?” she broke the silence, her voice shaky.
Jake remained impassive. “I needed to speak to you in person and thought he might be the one to help me out.”
“Well, obviously you were right. I’m here. So speak.”
“I wanted you to know that I didn’t lie to you. When I told you I’d never brought another woman to the house, what I’d meant was that I’d never stayed there with anyone. Julia’s an old friend and she only came to give me her opinion on it before I bought it, and the other woman was an interior decorator I’d hired.”
Though Jake was saying everything she badly needed to hear, his voice was so smooth and unmoved that the words rang hollow. The more she watched Jake, the more Keila found strength to push back her feelings. As tempted as she was to believe him, his hard expression coupled with such a convenient explanation halted her.
She watched him closely; her mind spinning with Cate’s admission, that Jake had said their weekend had been a whole lot of nothing, Tania’s warnings about logical ulterior motives, and her own past suspicions. She took a deep breath and said, “Don’t worry Jake, I’m not about to go to the press with some sob story about how you betrayed me.”
Jake’s eyes finally gained intensity. “That’s not why I’m here—” He paused and looked down, shaking his head as if he regretted coming. “I don’t like leaving loose ends and I don’t like the idea of you thinking I tricked you into being with me, or anything along those lines, okay?”
She was a loose end? “Right. Like you didn’t like the thought of me taking the L late at night, and didn’t like the thought of me crying over Mark and Jessie Thanksgiving weekend. How convenient for you that your conscience has a sweet spot for me. I’m sure the fact that it helped your campaign to be linked to me never crossed your mind now that you’re really behind in the polls,” she said, taking a few angry steps in his direction.
“What?” Jake’s eyes flashed.
“I guess you never counted on the rain making the pictures of us so blurry I was unrecognizable to the press, or on unexpected, clear pictures of you there with other women surfacing!” she shot back.
“What are you accusing me of now, Keila?” Jake was looking down at her now, his eyes finally showing emotion.
Keila didn’t back down. “That’s right. You like numbers. Would you like me to draw you a neat little chart with the convenient demographics so you understand that I’m not stupid and that I’m on to you?”
“You don’t believe that!” Jake yelled.
Robbie walked in then, and, if possible, glared at Keila even harder than Jake. “What the hell, Keila? This isn’t like you,” he began, but he was interrupted by Jake.
“No, it’s exactly like her,” Jake said, standing straight. “She never tries to get to the bottom of anything—she just takes whatever surface excuse suits her best and runs with it.”
“Really, Jake? I’ve lost count of the times you’ve accused me of being overly emotional and now you’re implying I run away from my feelings? And you, who couldn’t even admit you remembered me, who nearly had a stroke over the accidental use of the word forever, and who just called me a loose end to my face, you’re the one gets to the bottom of things?” Keila demanded.
Jake’s face turned to granite once more. He looked at her one last time, turned and walked away.
Robbie walked toward Keila, his face full of reproach. “Why couldn’t you at least hear him out? Why are you sabotaging yourself this way?”
Keila couldn’t believe Robbie’s gall. First he’d deceived her and now he had the nerve to look upset with her. “You know, I hope someone took a clear picture of Jake walking out of here so you can be declared his new lover. I’m sure it’ll do wonders for his campaign and your dance studio.”
Robbie just shook his head at her, before wrapping her in his arms and saying, “And I just hope it was Tania and not me who messed you up so badly.”
Keila knew she had messed herself up all on her own, wanting so badly to outwit love and the anguish it seemed to inflict on those who fell hard and felt deeply.
“What am I supposed to do, Robbie? Just believe him? How stupid would I have to be to let myself believe in him when so many warning signs are there? You heard what Cate said. The weekend with me meant nothing to him.”
“Maybe Cate accidentally took it out of context? I mean, why else would he be here if he didn’t care?”
“Because I’m a loose end. And don’t tell me I’m taking that out of context, too. That’s the excuse every spin doctor out there puts out, even I know that. And I believe coming here is called damage control.”
Robbie sighed. “Okay, I see what you mean, but you should still try to keep an open mind.”
It was Keila’s turn to sigh. None of this should be happening. She should be in ecstasy over her career, without having that happiness interspersed with feeling all twisted up inside over some man.
Chapter Thirteen
Though his co-workers and friends would never have guessed it from watching his collected demeanor and hectic schedule, Jake wasn’t sure he’d ever felt so down and out, and he was relying on the people around him to keep him busy.
He’d been attending fundraisers for the youth centers and acquiring new equipment for the kids. He was also campaigning as hard as ever, hitting the pavement in every community, going to every meeting, and just trying to make people see he was addressing their concerns about life in their great city.
With only a few weeks to go before Christmas, Mike Summers played up his committed, family man bit to a nauseating degree and his team likened Jake’s lack of commitment in his personal life to a lack of commitment in general.
Whether they’d planned on voting for him or not, the people of Chicago had chosen their sides: those who’d decided to either believe Jake or figure his personal life didn’t matter one way or another, and those who’d decided to trust the muck and believe it did matter. To the latter, he was just like his father; a careless playboy, out of touch with the real world. Depending on which poll voters chose to believe, Jake was now down by at least nine percent. It seemed that only the kids at the youth center believed in him at this point, and they were too young to vote.
“You need to go on that show, the one with the chatty females,” Filip advised him over smooth, warming Scotch Manhattans at Filip’s house on Christmas Eve. Jake was set to attend a stiff annual Christmas dinner with his mother’s self-important, dwindling old-money side of the family while Filip was heading out to be with his warm, loud, welcoming family.
Meeting for the sweet drink had become a tradition, but it was the first time Jake had ever wondered what it would be like to be Filip: older, wiser, and the patriarch of a family who loved him and supported him.
“I think the hippie one likes you. She seems very perceptive,” Filip continued before Jake’s thoughts could take him further down that trail.
“You watch that show?” Jake shook his head, his manhood betrayed. “Those women want to skewer me, Filip, not interview me. Especially the hippie—I’m sure she’s already got an eye on a nice long, splintery stick with my name on it.”
“I think they just want to get to know you, Jake,” Filip laughed and shook his head at him. “And they’ve got a way about them. They even managed to make Mike Summers and his wife squirm when they kept innocently questioning them over trivial daily things that pertained to their perfect marriage.”
Jake remained silent . . . too offended by Filip’s idea to dignify it with a response. He took a last swig of his drink, swished it around his mouth, and got up to leave.
“Just promise me you’ll think about it. You should trust your wise elders more often, you know,” Filip said before getting up and engulfing Jake in a fatherly hug. Though Jake couldn’t fathom putting himself so out there, the way people tended to do on the popular talk show, he was caught in a wave of affection for Filip and said, “You kn
ow I trust the people I love, Filip. I’ll think about it.”
“At some point, you have to learn to put faith in others, Jake.” Filip seemed sad as he stepped back.
“I do put faith in others,” Jake shrugged.
“Not enough. People are right to question your commitment to the city when you can’t even commit to one woman.”
“They’re wrong. One has nothing to do with the other. That kind of commitment is messy, it involves another person and everything that person carries inside. If you’re asking me if I can give one person that much power over me, I can’t. But if you’re asking me if I can commit to the city, I know I can deliver, because progress is measurable and quantifiable. People aren’t.” Jake explained with more emotion than he had intended.
Filip squeezed his arm and Jake cleared his throat and looked down, so he wouldn’t have to see his friend’s concern.
Filip walked away then, and watching him go with such a heavy stride pained Jake. “You look tired,” he observed, after studying his old friend.
“I am tired,” Filip sighed, turning one last time. “You know, there are times I feel there’s still so much I need to witness in my life, and there are others when I just really miss my wife. Her thoughts and feeling were known to me, and I miss them. Tonight, I just really miss the woman I came home to for forty-five years.”
• • •
On Christmas Eve, after an early family dinner, Tania, Mia, and Keila were helping Graciela clean the house and prepare for the large family gathering the next day.
As thunder rolled and rain patted the windows outside, inside Graciela and Mia worked downstairs while Tania and Keila made up songs to make the chore livelier upstairs.
When they came up with a tune they liked for their lyrics, cleaning took a back seat. Keila took her violin out and plucked while Tania sang.
“It’s a rainy day and I feel it again, these thoughts of you they drag me down into hell. You messed with my mind and you messed with my heart, if I see you again, I’ll shoot your male parts. You just—”
An ahem caught their attention and they turned to see Graciela, in full disapproving stance, at the door. “You have a visitor,” she said to Keila in her polite “we’ve got company” voice. Keila looked up and promptly did a double take.
Julia Hamilton, dressed as if she were going to a prep school prom, was standing right behind her mother.
Tania smiled her tight smile and followed Graciela out the door. Keila stood and motioned Julia in. Whatever Julia’s relationship with Jake was, she had always treated Keila with respect, so she would do the same.
Graciela could be heard saying, “So you two were making up awful songs upstairs while Mia and I worked our butts off downstairs?” Tania answered, “Yep, we’re starting a band, we’re calling ourselves ‘Twisted Ball-Busters,’” before the sound of their voices died away.
Julia let out something that sounded like a laugh and quietly asked, “Can I join your band?”
Keila finally smiled, asking, “That depends, are you twisted?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Julia nodded, her eyes wide.
“Are you a ball-buster?” Keila asked, doubtfully.
“I wish I was.”
“Good enough. You’re in,” Keila declared.
They were quiet again and Keila looked around Tania’s old room, where the only place to sit was the bed. She sat and signaled Julia to do the same.
Finally, Julia cleared her throat. “This is hard for me. I’ve been wanting to talk to you for so long and today, of all days, I was on my way to a party and I just . . . I just decided to come here, first,” she confessed as she fiddled with her hands.
Though Julia was the older of the two, she was so delicate and shy that she seemed years younger. Keila decided to just get it over with and plunged in with her suspicions. “Is this about Jake Kelly?” she guessed. And when Julia nodded, Keila immediately said, “There’s nothing between us—” just as Julia quickly breathed out. “I’m the one who sent those pictures to the media.”
Keila shook her head, completely baffled. “What pictures? The pictures of you and Jake in Kankakee?”
“No,” Julia swallowed hard and stared at her hands. “The pictures of you and Jake dancing at the Chicago SummerDance Festival.”
Stunned, Keila just stared. Julia wiped her hands on Tania’s patchwork quilt and cleared her throat yet again. In a shaky voice, she continued. “Jake’s been my best friend since, well, since before either of us could walk, probably, and there’s never been anything remotely romantic between the two of us. He’s like a brother to me, one of the few people I can just let go and be myself around,” Julia finally looked up, an earnest expression on her face.
Still too confused to speak, Keila reached out and grabbed Julia’s hand, encouraging her to continue.
Julia breathed a sigh of relief and seemed more composed. “That evening in July, after our auditions for Second City, I’d asked Jake to meet me at Grant Park because I love watching people dance and I really needed a friend. I was sure I’d lost the permanent position to you. You performed with so much heart while I concentrated too hard on technique.
“But when I arrived, I saw him dancing with you and I saw the way he was looking at you, and . . . I just, I’d never seen him that way. I mean, he was dancing salsa, of all things, and he seemed, I don’t know, like he was free,” Julia paused.
“And you seemed entranced. You know how you feel when you play a deeply moving piece?” she asked Keila, who nodded again. “That’s kind of how I felt watching you two; like I was watching something deeper than words. I decided to take pictures, to show Jake later on, but he was so busy after that night, and I just never really knew how to bring the subject up.”
“But, why did you decide to send the pictures to the media?” Keila asked when she found her voice.
Julia squeezed Keila’s hand, as if looking for more encouragement before answering. “It was after he came to tell me that he wouldn’t need my assistance with the music program. He knew I didn’t really want the position, but he still felt the need to explain why he’d gone with someone else and when he mentioned your name . . . I couldn’t believe he was trying to come off so aloof, acting as if he’d just met you, even though I could clearly tell he was agitated. And Jake doesn’t do agitated. So I decided to send the pictures, just to give him a shock; a jolt. I just thought it would be good for the two of you. Especially after I’d gotten the position and I had to watch you sit on the sidelines, when I felt you deserved a permanent position. It was stupid, but I thought I could at least help you find love.”
Keila took a moment to let the full meaning of everything Julia had said sink in. But she just couldn’t wrap her head around it. Jake and Julia really were just friends, and Julia wanted them to be together. And Julia had sent those pictures. Julia!
“Let me get this straight. You took those pictures of us that night and you made them public because you thought that would somehow bring us together? You, um, thought you’d be doing me a favor?”
“I’m sorry,” Julia exhaled. “Patty and I thought it would force Jake to acknowledge there was something there. I—I realize now we didn’t stop to think the attention could hurt you. I guess we’re more used to it, and it never crossed our minds.”
“Patty? Patty Kelly? Jake’s mom? She was in on it?”
Julia gulped. “Don’t be mad at her, please. I promise it made sense at the time.”
Keila was shocked, not mad.
“Um, I have to go. I’m late as it is and it isn’t a good day to interrupt you for so long. Will you be okay, Keila? I’ve always felt like you were someone I could be friends with. I really didn’t mean to cause trouble for you, and . . . and I still think . . . never mind.” Julia shook her head and stood up.
Keila stood up, too. “I’m just trying to process all of this. I think it’ll take a while. But,” she exhaled. “I’d like to be friends, too,” she tried
to smile before walking Julia downstairs.
Just as Julia was about to leave, Keila pulled her into a quick hug knowing that though her actions had been misguided, she hadn’t meant harm, and it had been brave of her to confess. She was rewarded with a teary smile from Julia.
“One more thing,” Julia turned back. “The night of your first performance with Second City? Jake convinced my parents to dump their original guest and take him instead; I’d never seen him so insistent and unreasonable,” she smiled. “And I know it wasn’t to see me play, because he’s sick of hearing me play.”
Keila didn’t know what to say to that; wasn’t even sure she believed it. What would it mean if she believed it?
• • •
“What was that about?” Keila’s mom sat on the sofa and patted the seat next to her.
“Nothing,” Keila sat down next to her mom, feeling as messy inside as ever.
“Why won’t you talk to me, hija?” Graciela sighed. “I’m not blind, I know my own daughter and I see what’s going on but every time I ask, you shut me out.”
Keila closed her eyes. She didn’t want to talk to her mother because Graciela was a hopeless romantic, and Keila didn’t want to be sucked into her dream. “I just . . . I love you, mami, but I’m not sure I want to hear what you have to say.”
“How do you know for sure what I’ll say?” Graciela grabbed her hand. “I know you’re not me, Keila. I don’t expect my daughters to feel as I do or think as I do. But I do hope they never make decisions out of fear. Try to base your decisions on love and not fear, that’s all I’ll say.”
“You think I’m afraid?”
“I know you are. And I’m afraid for you,” her mother admitted, her eyes shining with myriad emotions. “Things haven’t worked out in this family the way we expected them to. But in the end, I wouldn’t change the decisions I made out of love, Keila, and as much as your sister talks, I know she wouldn’t either. You, Tania, and Mia, you are all the product of decisions made out of love.”