In Tandem

by Christina C Jones

  “Sure doesn’t – and we need to celebrate too,” she practically purred, before she pushed me backward, out the bathroom door. “Let me pee again real quick!”

  I didn't waste any time.

  I headed straight to her bedroom, taking stuff off on the way, ready to get this thing started. However, just moments later, B walked up with a distinctly disappointed look on her face.

  “Okay… we’re going to have to rain check,” B said, blowing out a sigh. “Guess who decided to show up now.”

  My eyebrows went up. “Your period started?”

  “Yeah,” Britt groaned. “But let me not act like I’m not glad to see her, cause the internet says that negative test could just mean it’s too early for a positive. Periods don’t lie though,” she said, lifting her hand to give me a high five.

  “Well hold on now,” I said. “You said your period started, but like… how started is it?”

  B frowned. “Um… started. Like… when I wiped it was pink.”

  “Oh, I ain’t scared of that,” I waved her off. “That doesn’t have to stop anything for me.”

  “Eww,” she laughed. “It does for me though.”

  “Oh so you’re scared.”

  “No, I’m not scared,” she defended. “And I’m quite sure I’ve given you more than enough pussy over the last several weeks – we can hold off for now.”

  “Ah. Got it. You’re scared,” I teased. “Don't be like that. It's a natural thing, just like when it started for you, back in seventh grade.”

  “Oh pleeeease don't remind me,” B grunted, shaking her head.

  “Oh no I’ve gotta remind you, because I just reminded myself - you owe me a jacket.”

  Britt’s eyes went big. “It got blood on it!” she said. “You gave it to me, so I could cover up my little… accident. It was ruined!”

  “A little blood being on it is not ruined,” I argued as she laughed. “You could have just gotten it cleaned.”

  She shook her head. “Nope. It would have been bad memories for me every time I saw you in it. It was a pretty ugly jacket anyway.”

  “According to you,” I said. “You’re always hating on me.”

  “Awww, my bad babe. But… while I’m hating on you, can I just say, I really don't like these shoes with that shirt you had on....”

  “See what I mean?” I laughed, hooking an arm around her waist to pull her in again. This time, there was no interruption. She melted right into my touch, as if things have never been another way between us.

  “So… what do you think?” I asked.

  “About us.”

  “What about us?”

  “You’re messing with me, aren't you?” I asked, prompting a smile to her face.

  “Yeah,” she admitted. “I totally am.”

  “Can you answer the question?”

  Her smile deepened. “How I feel is that… this – us - was probably the best decision either of us had made in a while.”

  “Really?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yes,” she answered. “Really. Why, do you think it's not? You think we made a mistake?”

  “Hell no,” I answered immediately. “I just… I want to make sure you're good. That you’re happy.”

  B grinned. “I have not been this happy in a long time. And not just because of this new development between us. Just having you back here, being able to touch you…,” She said. “It’s so gratifying. So that may be coloring my perception a little, but when it comes down to it… I’m all into this. What I want to know, is how you’re doing. How did everything go today?”

  “You mean before the pregnancy scare?”

  “I don't know if I’d call it a scare,” Brittany laughed. “But yes, before that. I saw the statement from UCI, so I know you’re good there. But the closing… the haircut…?”

  “The closing went completely fine. And the haircut too,” I told her. “I didn't walk into a stoning or anything like that.”

  “See!” she laughed. “I told you, you belong to the neighborhood. We take care of our own.”

  Yeah.

  This experience had been a reminder of that - even with my apprehensions about being the hometown hero and all. The Heights put on for me when it counted.

  “I wouldn't have it any other way.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Today is going to be fine.

  Today is going to be fine.

  Today is going to be fine.

  I kept telling myself that, over and over, trying to convince my brain to not give in to the urge to retreat to my apartment with a tub of ice cream, my boyfriend, maybe some paints and a canvas, and all the Netflix I could binge.

  I didn't want to give in to that.

  So instead… I went to work.

  There was some rearranging I'd been wanting done in the shop for a while, but I just hadn't had the wherewithal to do it myself, or delegate. Now though, I was in need of distraction like I was in need of my next breath.

  So, I had Raf working for me.

  I was enjoying the hell out of watching my shirtless “best friend”, hauling those bikes around like it was nothing.

  I was so into this.

  He didn't have to have his shirt off, but I’d requested it, because… why not? Shirtless Raf was a perk I would absolutely take advantage of now. I mean… what with being his girlfriend and all that.

  “Is this the last one?” he asked, holding up what was, indeed, the last one. “Yes,” I told him. “Thank you for doing this for me. You could do this all the time, you know?”

  “Not a problem,” he said. “I’ve gotta stick around until the heat from those pictures wears off a little anyway,” he teased, making me shake my head.

  Fallon had launched her Scantililly campaign the day before, and I was getting some increased attention.

  It was cute that he was trying to make sure his presence was felt, without making our relationship obvious. Even though it was probably obvious.

  “How are you holding up?”

  “I've been better,” I answered. “But I'll be all right.”

  I would be.

  Especially with Raf’s half-nudity as a perfect visual distraction from the emotional pain I was trying my best not to feel. Obviously though, there was only so much distracting I could actually pull off.

  It was my mother’s birthday.

  The shit wouldn’t exactly be peachy.

  The morning passed, uneventful and slow, with Raf’s calming presence carrying me into the afternoon. I was grateful for him, and glad that he’d found his own place of peace, no longer so heavily burdened by everything he’d been carrying with him when he arrived.

  Maybe it was selfish.

  But his lightness made it feel okay for me to stop trying to not be sad about the fact that my mother was no longer here. Ignoring my emotions had never exactly… worked.

  I wasn’t sure why I thought it would now.

  So instead of leaning into faux detachment, I let the melancholy creep in. I left the store to the evening shift employee, and let Raf take me upstairs. Made love. Ate the ice cream. Watched the Netflix. I saved the painting for another time, for the custom piece Raf had requested for his living room.

  And then I decided to go to my mother’s grave.

  Raf didn’t ask if I wanted him to come.

  He just got up and put his shoes on.

  It was a long walk to the cemetery where my mother had been laid to rest, and we took it slow. Raf raised an eyebrow at me when I threaded my fingers through his, in full view of anybody who might walk past, but… I didn’t care anymore about keeping it between us. Not when, by all counts, everyone could tell just by looking at us, and even if they couldn’t, everybody was already thinking it anyway.

  We were a thing.

  We’d always been a thing, really, but a different type of “thing” now. A “thing” I was happy about, a “thing” I intended to rely on today, to get me through it all.

  Mama
would’ve been so happy.

  She’d always loved Raf, and had tried on many occasions to suggest something more than friends between us. I’d always, always denied it, never considering the possibility of something that, to me, felt impossible.

  And now… here we were.

  Raf squeezed my fingers as we headed through the neighborhood, and I looked up to briefly meet his gaze. All that weariness and sorrow in his eyes was gone, but he still looked so… grown.

  He let go of my hand after we’d crossed a street, opting instead to hook an arm around my neck, keeping me snug against him as we kept moving. Just that quickly, I felt more grounded, more secure, more… connected.

  Loved.

  Not that I hadn’t been before, but… damn.

  When we made it to the cemetery, the sun was just starting its’ descent into the horizon. Raf didn’t go with me to the grave – he took a seat at the entrance, giving me the chance to go have a talk with my mother alone.

  I wasn’t the only person who had that same idea though.

  Last year, and the year before that, and definitely the one before that, I would’ve turned and walked back in the direction I’d come from, seeing my father standing at that grave. It disgusted me, like…. made me physically ill… to see him pretending he loved her, pretending he was mourning. Pretending he’d ever done right by her.

  I couldn’t stand him.

  But I was starting to understand that it wasn’t up to me.

  As much as I hated to admit it, for that time they were back together before she passed, she really was happy.

  Glowing.

  I thought about how I felt now, with Rafael, and…. If my father had made her feel even a fraction of that, in the face of what she knew about her impending death… I had to let that count for something.

  So I approached.

  I stood there beside him and Vaughn, on his other side, in silence. I took it all in, noticing both of their red eyes, and the fresh flowers they must’ve brought, and accepted that I’d never be able to look at my mother’s name on a headstone without feeling like I was being gutted and flipped inside out.

  And I remembered her.

  I focused on just that, remembering her voice and how she smelled, the way her hugs felt, the way her food tasted, and her beautiful face I so often saw mirrored in my own.

  Full immersion.

  And then… my father grabbed my hand.

  I immediately pulled away, shaking my head. “Don’t push it,” I told him, but let a natural smirk creep onto my face to lighten the blow. I’d stand next to him to honor my mother, sure, but the touchy-feely shit was a no-go.

  At least for now.

  It had been at the back of my mind, seeing how other familial relationships played out. Anika and Fallon were among the very few people I knew with a good relationship with parents that were still around. Nearly everyone else was orphaned or traumatized by shitty relatives, and Raf’s recent experience with his parents only highlighted that.

  What he’d confided in me about Lucia was a bold-stroked underline.

  With that in mind, and with the conversation we’d had at Stacks, my father almost seemed… not that bad.

  Almost.

  Nothing could erase the fact that he’d been an OG fuckboy, not even age and his commitment to change. As he’d mentioned though… he was the only parent I had now.

  Maybe I shouldn’t be so cavalier about throwing that away.

  Not today though.

  And probably not the next.

  For now, just being in the same space as him without verbally ripping him to shreds was enough, and it was something Mama would’ve been happy for.

  That made it perfect to me.

  I needed something to do.

  So, after I left the cemetery and met back up with Raf, instead of going back to my place, we went to his, with the intention of working on his kitchen. It was one of the main things on his remodel list, and had been a great conduit for working out aggression.

  The cabinets needed to be ripped out, the old tile needed to be busted up from the floors and counters, and there was some weird-ass wallpaper that needed to be ripped out too. So there was plenty to do, no matter if you needed a mindless task to work at, or you needed to straight-up destroy something.

  As it was, what I really wanted was busy hands, and to hang out with Raf. Of course, he was down with it, and even went along with the idea I had after we’d only been there a few minutes to call up the rest of our friends. They could bring liquor and food, and we could turn this thing into a party.

  Not that partying on a day like today was really how I’d imagined spending it, but it did me no good to sit around being sad if my mood had progressed.

  And… we never did make it to Jules and Anika’s party.

  We could both use a night of socializing.

  In the meantime, Raf and I cranked the music up and kept working, at least until the stream was interrupted by his phone ringing. I glanced up at him, expecting him to tell me it was one of our friends calling for directions, or confirmation on what they should bring.

  But… there was something else written on his face.

  “What is it?” I asked him, concerned by how stricken he looked over whatever was happening on his screen.

  “Um… It's my parents,” he said, leaving it at that.

  And really… that was more than enough.

  Raf hadn't made any moves to speak to his parents since the night before that interview, and they hadn't reached out either. Even with everything that came out, I’d been surprised they hadn't offered any show of support for Raf. I wrote it off as them probably feeling guilty.

  He never brought it up, but I know it hurt Raf, deeply.

  Everything else aside - if that was possible - Raf loved his parents, and his parents loved him. It was really messed up, the way things had turned out.

  “Should I have answered?” he asked, once the phone had stopped ringing. “Or I guess… should I call back?”

  I thought back to my interaction with my father at the cemetery, and shook my head. “I… I can't answer that for you, babe. Do you want to?”

  Raf shrugged, leaning onto the half-destroyed kitchen counter. “I don't know. I mean… I think I do but I don't know. The interview with Wil was what, like a week ago? And they’re just now reaching out?”

  “I get it,” I nodded. “But, in their defense, you dropped a lot of information in that interview. Information that was all-the-way new to them. Everything. It may have taken them some time to process it, and figure out how they felt.”

  “It didn't take you a week and a half to process it and decide you were on my side when I first told you,” Raf countered.

  “Yeah, but I wasn't… invested in making you the greatest cyclist on the planet either. I didn't birth you. All I've ever had to be, before now, is your friend,” I explained. “They had much different roles to fill in your life, between being your managers and your parents.”

  “And look how that turned out,” Raf said, then shook his head. “I can’t just pretend nothing happened.”

  “Who says they’re trying to?” I asked. “You won’t know unless you talk to them. That’s not saying whether or not you should, just that… it’s the only way to find out.”

  Raf was quiet for a moment and then he nodded, picking up the phone from the counter. “I'm going to call back.”

  “Okay,” I said, offering him a reassuring smile. I would have supported whichever decision he made. “Do you want me to call everybody, try to catch them and cancel before they get here?”

  Raf shook his head. “Nah. We're keeping our plans – it’s been too long since we’ve all hung out. Let me just… I'll be right back.”

  He wasn't right back.

  As a matter of fact, ten, and then fifteen minutes passed without him reappearing at the kitchen doorway. Minutes I spent obsessively wondering what, exactly, was happening on that phone.

  If his p
arents were on any bullshit, interrupting the newfound peace he'd established… I was kicking somebody's ass.

  In the meantime though, I answered the door when the bell rung.

  I fell easily into the position of hostess for this group we’d been with since high school, plus a few newcomers. We’d already decided to make this more of a housewarming thing than a demolition party, so I herded people into the finished living room instead of the kitchen. We weren’t sure how well liquor would mix with potentially dangerous tools, and honestly… we both just wanted to chill with our friends, when it really came down to it.

  I jumped up as soon as Raf came back from upstairs, where he’d gone for privacy to talk to his parents. I pulled him to the side and let the guests entertain themselves for a few minutes.

  “So, what happened?” I asked. “How did it go?”

  He shrugged, like it was nothing, but I could see in his face – it wasn’t nothing.

  “They apologized,” he started, “Which I guess is a good first step. I accepted it.” He took a deep breath, then pushed it out as a sigh. “Does that… does that make me weak? That I’m considering letting it all go, just like that?”

  “Not at all,” I assured him, immediately. “If you don't want to be at odds with your parents, you don't have to be. Holding a grudge doesn't make you strong.”

  He nodded. “We still have a lot more to talk about,” he said. “I don’t trust them right now. At all. And I’m still pissed – really pissed. But… they’re my parents. Even with a fuck up this major… they’re my parents.”

  “I get it. Completely. So… what’s next?”

  “They’re coming back over here in a week. I agreed to have lunch, but that’s all for now. If nothing else… I'm willing to have a conversation.”

  I wrapped my arms around his waist, pulling him in for an embrace. “If that's what is going to make you feel whole again, then that's exactly what you should do. At least have the conversation.”

  Raf nodded. “Yeah. But… I don’t not feel whole, just for the record. Thanks to my stracciatella,” he growled into my ear, kissing my neck as I laughed.