by Gail Haris
“Would you like some company?”
Not particularly. But I haven’t seen him all day, so I give him a small smile and reach for the shampoo. He takes the bottle from my hand and pours some in his hand. “Allow me.”
I give him my back and try to relax as he massages my scalp. A sigh escapes me as I ease into his strong hands. He takes a step closer to me and I can feel his excitement. He drops a kiss on my shoulder. “My beautiful little hot tamale.”
I growl in frustration. “¡Ya para!” I try to shake him off my shoulder and continue, “Randy, for the last time. I’m not a food.” And a tamale is Mexican food. But I don’t want him calling me chicken and rice either. Just no food—period.
He nips my shoulder. “Mmmm. Are you sure? ‘Cause I could eat you up. In fact, sometimes you like it when I—”
Spinning around, I clamp my hand over his mouth. “But I don’t want to be referred to as food. You can overindulge in me, but I am not an object. I’m a woman.”
“Yes, you are,” he releases a seductive growl as his sudsy hands slide down my body and curves around my bottom. “And a muy sexy one at that.”
And here we go again. Usually, I humor him. But tonight, I’m not in the mood. He is gorgeous, and at one time, I thought I was lucky to have caught his eye. The problem with Randy is he will shower me with gifts and let me know how much he desires me, but there’s no respect. I feel as though I’m nothing more than a pet to him. I shove his hands away. “Why do you always bring up the fact that I’m Puerto Rican?”
“I love that you’re my feisty little Latina. What’s with you?”
Really? This fucker. I turn around and quickly rinse off. I feel his hands land on my hips as I turn off the shower with more force than necessary.
“I love that your hips are so thick.” He growls in my ear as he moves to palm my bottom. “Ass for days.” That does it. “Don’t do this. Come on,” he calls as I shove past him and exit the shower. While I dry off, he stands there watching me. “What? Was that offensive? Sorry.” Then in a softer tone, he says, “I’m sorry. Look, I was being an ass. I won’t do it again.”
“Until you do. Until you do, do it again.”
“Well, what the fuck, Nat? Are you ashamed that you’re Spanish?”
Releasing an exasperated huff, I wrap my towel tightly around me and turn to face him. “Mira,” I snap to get his attention. Look! “How long have we been together?”
“Is this a trick? Are you looking for another reason to be pissed?” When I don’t answer, he grumbles, “A year.”
“A year.” I repeat. “A year you’ve known me, or you’re supposed to. You should know that I’m not Spanish. I speak Spanish, grandísimo cabrón, but I am not from Spain. My parents are from Puerto Rico. I am Puerto Rican!”
“I know, baby.”
“Don’t baby me. We’ve been through this. It’s insulting, Randy.”
“How?”
“It feels like you don’t respect me as a woman or as an equal if you’re always bringing up that I’m Latina and comparing me to food.”
“You are Latina and you do look good enough to eat. Maybe I’m proud of it.”
I cross my arms and stare him in the eyes. “Then why are we not going to your mother’s gala?”
“The art gala? We can go, but I didn’t think you would be into that.”
“Did you ask me? Did you ask if ‘I’d be into that?’ Are you going to attend?”
“Well, she’s my mom. Look, it’s not really your scene, but I have to make an appearance. Then, I’ll come to you. I think we can find better ways to spend our time, eh?”
“No puedo creer que seas capaz de ser tan cruel. Estás bien pendejo.” I can’t believe he could be so cruel. “You’re a fucking asshole.”
“What the fuck, Nat! You get mad at me for pointing out you’re from a different culture, but you keep throwing it in my face. See, you’re speaking to me, but I can’t understand it!”
“Motherfucker, you don’t even understand me when I speak in English, so what’s the difference!” I shout. I reach down and pick up his clothes and throw them at him. “Get the fuck out. Do you understand that?”
He chuckles. “There’s that fiery Latin blood.”
“No pendejo, this is a woman tired of your shit. I’ve had a long day and you don’t even respect me enough to quit humping me like a fucking dog long enough to ask me how I am! Then you keep making racist remarks, but you’re too damn ignorant to see any of this—so just get out! Leave!”
He shoves his wet arms through his shirt with a humorless chuckle. “You’re making a big mistake. You’ll never get anywhere now. I could’ve helped you get a better job and move up in the world, ya know.”
“I don’t want to be anywhere in the world that’s filled with people like you.”
Like I told him before, I am a Puerto Rican woman. I don’t need him, I’ll find and make my own place in this world. After Randy leaves, I get dressed in my fluffy pajamas and open my laptop. It’s time to start finding my place and my people.
Carter
I cover my mouth to try and keep beer from spewing all over the bar. “You’re such an asshole.”
“It’s not my fault you fell for it.” My brother Warren shrugs before tipping his bottle back. I love how he uses every opportunity to bring up my past embarrassing moments for a laugh. Dick.
I nudge Grady Malone, one of the firemen from my team and a friend from high school. “Are you not drinking tonight?”
Typically the guys from the fire crew will gather at Hooligan’s Bar. Tonight, Warren happened to be in town and is hanging with us. He knows most of these guys obviously, since he grew up here.
“Nah. Not tonight.” I frown but he decides to swing the conversation back around to our glory days. Not so much glory for me and Warren since that’s when we lost our parents to a house fire and sent us on a rebellious path while living with Lolly and Pops.
Grady chuckles. “You guys were wild. I remember the time you stole Principal Williams’s car.”
“Lolly was pissed. I couldn’t sit for a week.” I shake my head at the memory of our grandmother taking a switch to me and Warren.
Warren shivers. “I still can’t let a woman whip me to this day. Brings back too many memories.”
Grady narrows his eyes. “Dude, you think about your grandmother when you’re with another woman?”
“Only if she hits my rear. Lolly has ruined spankings for me.”
I choke on my beer again, and can only shake my head. Lolly did get after us, but we needed it.
“Speaking of…” He slams the glass bottle down on the bar. “How are things with you and Payton?”
Grady raises an eyebrow at me. “Trouble in paradise?”
“No, nothing like that.” I clip. “She’s starting to really see what the life of a firefighter entails.”
“Not the life of a firefighter, brother.” Warren jabs. “It’s more than a career for you.”
My eyebrows pull together and I stare at my drink. “She feels she comes in in second place, and there’s not much I can do about that to convince her that she’s not second, she just shares first.”
Grady nods. “It takes a certain type of person to be a firefighter, it’s in our blood, and it takes an even more special person to be the partner of a firefighter.” A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He must be thinking about his special someone, Dylan.
Warren takes a long swig of his beer. I look to him and ask, “What do you think, bro?”
He chuckles. “I’m thinking, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with women trouble.” He slaps me on the back as he stands up. “It’s getting late. I’ve got a drive ahead of me.”
San Francisco, the big city. It holds the love of my life and my best friend. My future bride and my brother. You’d think I’d just move there, and that’s probably what Payton thought I would do as long as she and my brother remained there. Warren was ready to leave the gho
sts behind, but I can’t. Our parents lived and died here. I was there.
Plus, someone needs to stay with Lolly.
Warren moves to stand, and I pat his arm. “You can crash for the night and drive back in the morning.” He shakes his head, declining my offer. Then, he stops and tilts his head.
“Isn’t Payton staying over tonight?” I nod and he rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I definitely don’t want to stay in the same house listening to you two all night.”
I tilt my head, “How’d you know Payton was staying over?”
My brother shrugs, “You mentioned it earlier. How many beers have you had?”
I chuckle. “Not that many. Anyway, yeah she should be leaving the city and on her way here soon. You can crash at Lolly’s.”
“That’s a hard pass, brother. Last time I woke up to her standing over me. Creepy as fuck.”
“She said she was ironing your clothes.”
“In the bedroom…while I was sleeping.”
“She loves you, man. She just wants to be near us when we’re around.”
Warren shakes his head and stands up. “I’ll leave that to you.”
Before he completely walks away, he looks over his shoulder and says, “You’re living in the past. You’re wanting to stay with Lolly, and chase Dad’s ghost. How do you expect to ever have a future? It’s getting awfully crowded around you, bro. Payton wants to be with you, not everyone else.”
I’m driving, thinking about when Grady asked me about trouble in paradise, when my scanner goes off.
Attention Sunnyville Responders. 11-85. Off highway 82. One vehicle.
There’s apparently been a bad wreck on the highway heading out of town. A dread fills me. I pick up my cell and call Warren. He doesn’t answer. I check the clock, he left earlier, so he should already be halfway back to San Francisco. Even so, my foot falls heavy on the gas pedal as I race down the highway with my lights on. Something doesn’t feel right. I try calling Payton to let her know I’ll be late.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
No answer. Shit. She’s going to be pissed when the reason I’m late is because I’m taking another call. My gut is twisted and the sense that something is wrong keeps nagging in my mind. I can’t ignore this call. It can’t be Warren. He’s fine. My brother is safe. I call his cell again but no answer. That doesn’t mean anything, though, he’s probably driving still and can’t answer.
I speed down the highway, switching in and out of lanes passing cars, trying to focus on the road and listen for anymore news to come through on the scanner. They come through and announce there’s a car in a ditch. Warren drives a BMW.
Don’t say black. Don’t say black.
The scanner pops.
Attention Sunnyville Responders. Single vehicle. Black. Sedan. Make BMW.
This is a small town, and very few late-model black BMWs come through here. Still doesn’t mean it’s him though. Maybe it was someone passing through.
Red and blue lights cut through the darkness, giving me more momentum to pick up speed. I have to know if it’s my brother in that ditch. Obviously not a bad thing since they haven’t requested an ambulance. At least that’s what I keep saying to myself, but I know all the reasons why they wouldn’t request an ambulance too. The truck jerks as I slam on the brakes arriving on scene, and I shove the gear into park. I don’t even turn off the key or shut my door as I jump out. Before I can even get close to the scene, my team is rushing toward me with their arms spread open.
“No, Collins. You don’t want to go over there, man,” Grady says. Grady left a few minutes before me. He must’ve just gotten here, but he’s already seen, he knows. The look in his eyes is confirmation of who is in that ditch.
“Move. I need to be in there.”
“Collins, no. Sit this one out. You’re sidelined.” Grady’s voice is firm but pleading.
“Is that… Warren?” I try to look around and see through the blinding lights mixed in with the pitch black that surrounds my line of sight. “Warren!”
That’s his car. I see the back bumper poking out of the ditch. A gurney is wheeled over. My heart is in my throat. “Warren,” I wheeze out. “Oh shit. No, no, no, no.” My eyes plead with Grady. “Let me help. That’s my baby brother.”
“You’re grounded, Collins. You can’t, man.” Grady keeps trying to block my view.
No. No. They can’t ground me. That’s my fucking brother! My brother! This is what I do—I help! I’m the guy who’s there to save people, to help, and they’re not going to let me be there for my own brother? This is bullshit. No. No. I push harder and begin to plead again.
“But that’s—” I stop speaking. The words are lodged in my throat when I see a second gurney. I watch in horror as a second body is pulled out of the car.
That’s not…
It’s dark but the light shines bright on hair so red, it could pass for flames.
That’s not…
My mind can’t even register what my body has already realized, and I’m pushing forward, reacting purely on instinct. I shove and push against Grady to get to the scene, to get to them. Four strong hands come on either side of me, holding me in a tight grip and pulling me back. Everything in me is struggling. I need confirmation that that’s them. I need to make sure they’re really gone—or maybe there’s still time that I can do something. Yes, there’s still time! There has to be. If they’d just let me go to them, I could still save them. And…and why? Why are they out here? Why are they together?
This isn’t happening. That’s not them. None of this makes a damn bit of sense, and I can’t lose my brother. I can’t lose my best friend and best man. And that’s not… no. That’s not her. It can’t be. She’s the woman I’m going to marry. She’s the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. And he is the best man of my life, every day. He’s got my back. He’s always had my back, now I need to be there for him. I need to be there by his side, holding his hand, and helping him get through this because he will get through this. We’ll get through it together. We survived our parents’ death together, and we’ll survive this together. We have to survive…both of us.
“Collins.” The pain in Grady’s voice gets my attention. His water-filled eyes beg me to stop resisting. A single shake of his head as he squeezes my shoulders. A scream rips through my throat, burning my lungs, as a rage unlike anything I’ve ever felt takes over. I watch as the white sheet is draped over Payton’s fragile, lifeless body. The pain and adrenaline take over and I knock the men off of me. I run to the gurney and slowly pull the white sheet back. All the breath leaves my body. I gently place my shaking hands against Payton’s angelic face. But it doesn’t make sense. Why would Payton be in the car with Warren? I was going to be with her tonight. So none of this makes sense. But worse, why would Payton be topless? I stare in horror that she’s nude from the waist up, and place the sheet back over her exposed skin fast. I don’t want these guys, my brothers on my team, to see her that way. Just me…I’m the only one to see her that way…at least that’s what I keep telling myself.
I scream again in rage as a fire rips through my body. Hot, angry tears burn my skin as my knees buckle and I fall to the ground. I gasp to catch my breath but end up vomiting, instead. This isn’t real life. This isn’t my fucking life right now. I’m heartbroken, angry as hell, and really fucking confused. I just lost everything in a matter of seconds, but on top of the loss, I feel a betrayal that’s cut so deep I’m bleeding out.
I stare at the boots surrounding me. They’re probably afraid I’m going to bolt. They don’t have to worry. My skin feels clammy and I can’t even stand. If I move I might throw up again. Instead, I remain here on a highway in the dark as I allow the rage to burn through my body until nothing remains except the ashes of who I used to be.
Natalia
Two years later…
I’m sleep deprived, exhausted, sweaty, but boy, am I proud. I did it! I’ve moved to a new place and I’m starting a new life. My
family is devastated, but at the same time, they understand that I needed to do this. To spread my wings and try something new. I feel a little like a coward that my main motivation for uprooting my life was Randy. All of our friends were interconnected, so his presence was always there, hanging over me. His father still reached out to offer me a job, like I didn’t know there weren’t strings attached. I moved back in with my parents after I kicked him out, but then they were always asking if I had met anyone. It wasn’t their fault they always asked about Randy, I never told them the truth why I ended things with him. By telling them some of his remarks and the way he treated me, it’d hurt them. Mi mamá and mi papi would be heartbroken. Letting them think he was great is better than them learning the truth and being insulted along with me. My loyalty is to them, along with my heart. I’d rather lose all my pride than see their hearts bleed. No matter the circumstances, I was still the caregiver both in and out of the hospital.
So here I am, in the small town of Sunnyville, California, an hour and a half from my hometown of San Francisco. Tomorrow I start my new job at the local hospital, so I probably should’ve waited to fully unpack since I’m going to have sore muscles now, but I was too worked up on adrenaline when I arrived. Nine hours later and I’ve still not taken a break, except to go to the bathroom and drink some water. And now I’m starving. On the way into town, I saw a café and I really could use something in my stomach. Quickly, I wash up and change into clothes that aren’t covered in sweat and wrinkled from carrying boxes and unpacking.
I pull into the parking lot of Bertha’s Café. I exit my car and enter the quaint little café and slide into a booth. A young waitress who looks tired on her feet, and probably not too thrilled to have a late-night straggler, comes to stand by my table.