Thicker Than Water

by Dylan Allen

  Reece’s rhythm falters as he starts to make slower, more powerful thrusts inside of me and then, he’s groaning into my neck, grinding up into me.

  Fifteen minutes later, we’re showered, and in our hotel bed. One hand is holding mine under the covers, the other is stroking my hair as we both start to drift into sleep.

  Reece mumbles at the edge of sleep and wakefulness, “You make me so happy, baby. Thank you for this trip, I know what a big deal it is.”

  “I’ve had the time of my life,” I whisper back.

  “You ain’t seen nothing yet.” And then he yawns and squeezes my hand.

  And just like on every other night I’ve spent with him, I fall in love, at a thousand miles an hour, all over again.

  35

  Reece

  We’re having dinner with Lucía’s entire family tonight. Well, the ones that live in California anyway. All five of them. It’s inconceivable to me, even as an only child, that she has such a small family and just a couple of friends. My extended family is huge—I have cousins, aunts, uncles. Even my parents’ close friends are more like family. And I have a good group of friends. I feel a pang of pain as I remind myself that part of the reason her family is so small is because of me. I realize how alone she’s been until now.

  We stand for seconds that feel like minutes, on the doorstep of her uncle’s house. I stare at the nondescript door that fits in with the nondescript house, in this nondescript neighborhood. I look down at Lucía. She looks calm; chin up, eyes on the door, a sweet smile on her face. Only the death grip she has on my hand tells me that she’s anything but. I give her hand a return squeeze and she glances up at me and gives me a self-deprecating smile.

  “Sorry. It’s just that I haven’t seen them in so long.” She loosens her grip on my hand. “At least we’re not going back to that house,” she says with a shiver. “I have such bad memories.” She looks around the stoop, taking in the house. I clench my jaw to keep from asking why the hell we were even here. I don’t know if I can sit politely in the same room with people who I know treated her unkindly. We were supposed to be going to her mother’s, but she called this morning and asked us to come here instead.

  She told Lucía that she wanted me to meet everyone. And my girl couldn’t say no to her mother; and, here we are. I would have liked this first meeting to be just us, so I could say the words of apology I needed to say to her mother privately. I’ll have to find a way to pull her aside when the opportunity presents itself.

  Keeping my voice neutral, I say, “You’ll be fine. We’re here together.”

  She leans into me and sighs. I press a kiss to the top of her head. Letting the familiar fragrance of her soothe my nerves.

  And just then, the door swings open and a woman, who looks to be in her late fifties, answers the door. Her green eyes glittering, her bright red lips parted in a grin that reveals tiny white teeth set in massive gums. She gazes at Lucía, her expression almost theatrical in its attempt to look genuinely happy to see us.

  “Ana, come, come. Let me look at you,” she says as she rushes forward and gathers Lucía into her bony arms, giving her a bear hug.

  Lucía looks up at me, raises her eyebrows and returns my questioning looking with an expression that says, Fuck if I know.

  She pulls back and then looks at me, her smile even wider now. “Oh, and, Mr. Carras. What an honor it is for us to have you in our humble home.” And then she curtsies.

  I don’t know whether to laugh or help her up to standing. Instead, I just say, “The honor’s mine, thank you for having us.”

  She rises out of her pose and her eyes widen, and she says, “Oh, I’m sorry. Please come in. We are very glad to have you visit our home.”

  Lucía told me they had two children. Two girls, who she’d practically helped raise, are about ten and twelve years younger than she is.

  The house is deathly quiet and smells like vanilla. It’s immaculate and decorated very tastefully. It doesn’t look like a house where two little girls live. A short hallway leads to a large living area, where a man and a woman are sitting. They both stand up as soon as we walk in and the woman, who I know is Lucía’s mother as soon as I see her face, walks over to us.

  She’s taller than Lucía, and she’s almost wiry in build. Her dark her is pulled back in a severe bun and it reveals a face that is softly lined and beautiful. Her eyes, dark and intensely sad move over us. “Mama, this is Reece,” Lucía says as her mother reaches us. If she notices her mother’s expression, she’s not reacting to it.

  She presses a kiss on each of her mother’s cheeks, lingering on the second one. Her eyes closing for a second as she savors the touch.

  Her mother turns to me and the weight from the sadness in her eyes lands right on my chest. She smiles though, and steps up to give me a hug. I’m surprised at first, but return it. She hugs me for a long time and then with a final squeeze lets go.

  The man, who I assume is Lucía’s uncle steps forward. He’s short, shorter than his wife, with a full head of very dark hair and a full mustache that hides his upper lip.

  Lucía moves to stand behind me slightly in a move that surprises me. My eyes dart back to her uncle and I don’t miss the censorious glance he gives Lucía before he turns to me and says, “Well, I see Lucía’s forgotten all the manners we taught her. I’m Jaime Rios. Welcome to our home, Mr. Carras.” And he puts his hand out. He said that like it was funny and that he thinks himself charming. I look at his hand and am tempted to refuse to shake it, when I feel a surprisingly strong finger poke me in the back.

  “Thank you for having us,” I respond, without any warmth.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see her mother walk past us, back towards the couch. She whispers something in Lucía’s ear as she passes and Lucía’s eyes grow large and she looks at her mother.

  She follows her and says, “What do you mean you’re sorry. Sorry for what?” Her mother doesn’t respond, only sits back on the couch and puts her face in her hands. I look around and realize that the house is still very quiet. We were invited for dinner, but if anything is cooking I can’t smell it. They look dressed for company, but something else is going on here.

  An alarm goes off in my head and I forget my attempt at politeness.

  “What’s going on?” I turn to her uncle and ask. He and his wife are exchanging meaningful glances, but neither one of them answers me. I walk over to her mother and put an arm around her.

  “Mrs. Rios, whatever you’re sorry for, you can tell us in the car. We’re leaving,” I say and Lucía doesn’t miss a beat, standing up and grabbing her mother’s purse.

  “No, we can’t go,” She says pitifully through her fingers that are still covering her face.

  “She’s right. You can’t leave.” Her uncle’s echoed statement is unequivocal and I turn to look at him

  “The hell we can’t. What the fuck are you even talking about?” I ask him as I turn my attention back to Mrs. Rios.

  “Tell them, Marisol,” her aunt pipes in, sounding a lot less friendly.

  “Tell us what?” Lucía asks, finding her voice finally as she squats down in front of her mother. She pries her fingers off her face.

  Her eyes are red and glassy and she closes them as soon as she sees her daughter in front of her.

  “I can’t. Lucía, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.” And then she starts to cry, hysterically.

  This scene is turning very bad, very fast.

  I turn back to her uncle and grab him by his arm.

  “Tell us what’s going on, now.”

  He smiles what I’m sure he thinks is a calming and somewhat charming smile.

  “Why don’t we all sit down. This doesn’t need to be contentious. Let’s just talk.” And as if to lead by example he and wife sit down on the love seat across from the couch.

  I make a snap judgment when I see Lucía still crouched in front of her mother, trying to comfort her.

  I sit and say,
“Okay, talk.”

  His eyes flit to his niece and then back to me.

  “What’s going on is that Lucía’s rich now. We are the ones who took her in and raised her. We deserve to be compensated for that.”

  Lucía hops up and turns to them, her eyes wide and hot with rage.

  “You raised me?” she hisses at them. “You made me your live-in maid. You ignored me. Made me eat alone in the kitchen.” She turns to her aunt and her eyes narrow. The woman pales. “And you.” The “you” is filled with venom. “You stole from me.” Her teeth are clenched.

  Her aunt’s eyes widen in mock horror. “You little liar. You owe us,” she says her voice trembling, lacking the bravado of her husband.

  Her mother surges out of her seat and makes a beeline for the woman. I grab her just as he reaches her, arm drawn back and ready to strike. She doesn’t resist my restraint, but leans toward them to say, “You are vile people. You have so much, and yet you want more.”

  “Who doesn’t want more? What we’re asking for is nothing for someone like you. Pay us or we’ll make sure that everyone knows who Ana really is. We watched your interviews. Your little story about her being a girl from LA was cute, but we know better. Three million dollars and you can rest easy that we’ll leave you alone.” Lucía pales and she staggers back to the couch to sit down. Her mother starts crying again and I just look at him.

  He’s wearing a straight face, but I can see the strain. I want to laugh at the absolute brazenness of his statement.

  “Three million dollars,” I repeat slowly.

  “Yes. Insignificant really. I mean, you’ve got planes, and own buildings. I saw you two all over each other, but that Lucía doesn’t really exist. It’s a new day in America. All those undocumented activists who walked around like they had a right to, they’re being rounded up and deported. And when they find out she’s getting rich off her crimes, they’ll kick her out so fast, her head will spin.”

  Lucía’s mother is on the move again and this time I can’t stop her. The room is silent as the crack of her palm on his face reverberates.

  Her eyes grow wide and she covers her mouth with her hand.

  He doesn’t even flinch.

  “You just battered a police officer, Marisol,” he says with cold eyes glaring at her. She doesn’t even look his way. She lifts her chin, in the same way Lucía does, grabs her purse and walks out of the room.

  Lucía is still sitting on the couch, but her eyes are glued to the floor, her face expressionless.

  I walk over to her and put my hand on her shoulder. “Luc, go with your mom. Get in the car, I’m coming.” She nods numbly and without looking at me walks out of the room, too.

  I turn to her uncle. I assess him, he’s a bully and his wife is a fool. But these are the most dangerous types of people.

  “Mr. Carras,” he says as if we’re old friends. “Let’s take the emotion out of it. Now that it’s just us men we can make a deal.” I glance at his wife whose existence he seems to have forgotten.

  I sneer at him and say, “I don’t see another man in this room. Don’t come near Lucía or her mother again, or I’ll ruin everything you even think you care about and leave you intact to live with the devastation.”

  “She is my niece.” His voice shows emotion for the first time, anger emanating from the last word. “We took care of her. She’s basically won the lottery. She needs to take care of us, too. That’s how blood works.” He’s spitting at the end of his sentence.

  I look at his wife. She’s sitting with her head hanging down between her shoulders. I can’t tell if the pose is one borne of shame or defeat, but either one makes me want to shake these people.

  “She owes you shit. Exactly what you gave her. Don’t call her or her mother again. Unless it’s to apologize.” I turn to walk out. He calls after me.

  “You’re making a mistake, Mr. Carras. I know you think you’re powerful and can’t be touched by someone like me, but Lucía’s not.”

  I don’t stop walking until I’m at my car. I can see Lucía and her mother inside. Through the windshield, I can see that they are having a furiously heated conversation. They are both in the backseat, their hands gesturing wildly as they talk.

  Lucía notices me just before I open the door and as soon as I do, they stop talking.

  I sigh, but don’t say anything. I start the ignition and pull out of the driveway without saying a word. Neither do they and we sit like that, in a fraught silence for a long time.

  We’re on the 405 headed south, not quite sure what my final destination is tonight, before I decide to speak.

  “Tell me what’s going on. If you knew what they were going to do, why didn’t you warn us?” My voice is gentle. I try not to sound accusatory, but right now, that’s how I feel. I don’t understand the role her mother plays in all of this.

  “Reece, I’m sorry—” Lucía starts.

  “No.” Her mother’s voice is stronger than I’ve ever heard it before. “No, I’m sorry. I did what I thought would keep Lucía safe.”

  “Safe from what? From them reporting her?”

  “Yes,” she says her voice losing all its confidence.

  “Mama, why didn’t you say anything? All this time. They’re always going to want more from us. It won’t ever be enough.” She sounds anguished and it’s like every single nerve ending in my body can feel it.

  “And I’ll give them more. And you should, too. You need to keep them quiet.”

  I feel a chill run through me at the exchange.

  “Have you given them money already?” I ask her, not able to hide the disbelief from my voice.

  “She’s given them everything I’ve given her,” Lucía responds for her, anguish now layered with frustration. I don’t respond. I’m not sure how to.

  She responds with equal emotion. “If I hadn’t, your name would be in the papers by now. I’ve seen all those young people being arrested. DREAMERs, like you. The country has changed and it doesn’t matter if you’re breaking the law or not, they will send you back to Mexico. And I’ve already lost everyone. I wasn’t going to lose you, too.”

  Lucía sighs wearily.

  Through my rear view mirror, I see her mother reach out and smooth back her hair. “I’m sorry, Ana.”

  She meets my eyes in the mirror and I wonder if it’s just today or if that heartbreak is part of her permanent visage. I see her shoulders square before I look back to the road and then hear her say, “If you want this to go away, if you really want to be free, you need to leave this country and go back to Mexico.”

  36

  Lucía

  My eyes immediately go to the rear view mirror to try and catch a glimpse of Reece’s face. It’s too dark and all I can see in the shadowy darkness of the car are pieces of his forehead and part of his nose. His eyes are hidden. But I can feel his hackles rise at her words. I’d hoped to have this conversation with him when we were alone.

  “I know,” I say to my mother. All my earlier sadness is gone, replaced with outrage.

  “You could come back. But it would take time. There’s a penalty period, but maybe you could get a waiver,” she says, her voice sounding hopeful and I find myself stunned speechless for a moment.

  “I know. I talked to a lawyer,” I return.

  Reece hasn’t said a word, but he speaks up then. “You talked to a lawyer?” he asks. I nod.

  “But why? Why haven’t you said anything?”

  I want to plead with him to understand. I feel sadder now than I have in a long time.

  “It’s best, Ana. You should go.” This comes from my mother. I turn to look at her. Resentment wells in me.

  My mother, who sent me to live with those monsters. Who distanced herself from me and as soon as I think we might be able to salvage a relationship, is talking about sending me away again. Except this time, she’s not the only person I’d be leaving behind. I look at Reece again and this time when I meet his eyes, I can see that he is angr
y.

  My mother’s eyes follow mine to him and what she sees causes her eyes to widen.

  “Please, just listen. Those people, they will report you if you don’t pay them. And if you pay them now, they’ll be back. You should leave, just drive down to the border, and walk across.”

  I stare at her in horror. “You want me to leave? To just go? And only hope I can come back?” I ask her incredulously.

  “They’ll let you come back. My friend did it.”

  “We’re not paying anything. You’re not leaving.” Reece’s voice, so deep and cold, cuts into our exchange.

  My mother looks at him, her voice sharp and caustic, “You’ve already sent one of my children to detention. You won’t do it to another.”

  The words are a poisoned-tipped bow hitting its target. Reece’s entire body jerks. But he doesn’t say anything.

  “Mama!” I gasp in horror.

  “I’m sorry, Reece. I’m just scared,” she says quietly. She lets go of my hand and scoots away from me, pressing herself against the door of the car. She looks at me, like she’s afraid of me. I’m torn between defending Reece and reassuring her that a part of me understands. Because I do.

  “Lucía, I have never been able to protect my children. Every threat that came near them, touched them and ruined them. Your brother is dead. You were molested by a boy who’s shit I’m still wiping up.”

  I look at Reece, I’ve only recently told him that story and he’d been so angry that I’d refused to tell him the family’s name.

  “I had to send you away to live with those people knowing that they would make it difficult for me to see you.” Her eyes flit to Reece and I feel my stomach twist. This is a nightmare of epic proportions.