Never Enough

by Kristina M Sanchez

  “Are you going to hold that against me forever? I’m your mother, cabron. You’re always welcome in my house, under my roof. You knew that. You’re just stubborn and didn’t want to come back when you knew you should have. I’m only going to ask you one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Try not to fight with your father or your sister.”

  Mina, startled to be brought into the conversation, stood up straighter.

  “He’s not my father, but I’m a big kid now. I think I can manage being civil to my stepfather if he’d return the favor. Mina’s here?” Val asked. “And she isn’t my sister.”

  “Close enough.”

  “I was already grown up and in prison when she came to live with you. She’s never been my sister.”

  “Why are you nitpicking? Yes, she’s here. She’s doing temp work while she looks for a job in her field. It doesn’t pay much, so she decided to come home. It’s Southern California. Who can afford to live on their own here, huh? Not unless you got a mom and dad richer than me and Dante.

  “Well, it is what it is. All of it. Go on upstairs to your room. Take a nap. You look like you could use one. Carlito’s coming for dinner tonight with his family.”

  Mina could hear the groan in Val’s voice when he spoke. “I don’t think I can handle seeing Carlito tonight. I’m going to stay upstairs.”

  There was no love lost between those brothers. Mina had distinct memories of the shouting matches between the two of them. The yelling had rattled the windows.

  What did anyone expect? Val had done three years in prison for trying to kill him when he was just a kid. That would leave a foul taste in anyone’s mouth.

  Not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, Mina slipped upstairs and into her room. She didn’t know what to think about Val being around. He made it hard for people to like him, but it wasn’t because he was a pain to live with.

  The man was undependable and frustrating as hell. Even listening to the conversation, Mina was already grinding her teeth. He’d up and abandoned his son. Well, that was typical Val. There wasn’t much he got right. It wasn’t like he was going to start now at thirty-seven.

  No skin off her back, she supposed. She’d just have as little as possible to do with him and leave it that.

  ~0~

  Val was starving.

  He’d done as his mother had told him and taken a nap. He’d heard the bustle downstairs when Carlito came. Despite his mother’s wishes, he’d stayed upstairs. There wasn’t anything to do in this room that had been his over a decade ago, but he’d rather die of boredom than see his brother right then.

  Carlito—his mother’s son with his stepfather, Dante—was everything Val wasn’t. He’d gotten through high school and college without getting into a single fight. He’d graduated with honors, worked hard, and married well. He had a beautiful little boy and twin girls on the way. He wore suits to work.

  Good for Carlito. Last Val knew, he was still a pain in the ass, but no one else gave a damn about that.

  The house was quiet now. Val peered around his doorway and listened. Sweet silence. Satisfied, he headed for the stairs. When he got to the kitchen, he was startled to see movement across the room.

  Mina was coming in the opposite door from the garage, fast-food bags in hand. He stopped. She stopped. They stared at each other.

  Christ.

  She’d been sixteen the last time they were face to face, her furious and him trying to explain why he had to leave. He’d come home for Christmas once, three years ago, but she’d made an excuse to go home with one of her friends for the holiday break instead.

  Running into her wasn’t what stunned him, though. That was expected. What wasn’t expected was… Well…

  She was stunning. Smoking hot. She was all hourglass curves; plump, perfect breasts; and straight brown hair sticking out from under a beanie. She had her glasses on for once, and that did things to him. His body, his blood, sparked with an awareness that was familiar—he was a red-blooded man, after all—and yet foreign.

  This was Mina. Little Mina. When he was fifteen, his mother had dragged him to her best friend’s house to meet her new baby. He’d first held Mina in his arms when she was an ugly little bulldog of a newborn. He’d picked her up when she was a silent and traumatized child, still reeling from her mother’s death and scared she could lose everything. This was the little girl he’d watched grow into a spunky, smartass teenager before she faded from his life with the rest of his family. He couldn’t look at her with those eyes.

  Val turned and opened the fridge. He buried his head inside it, welcoming the cool air on his hot face. “Hey, Mina,” he said and cleared his throat.

  “Hey, Val.” Her footsteps fell across the kitchen floor to the table. She sat.

  “You weren’t hungry at dinner or what?” he asked to fill the silence.

  “Meatloaf,” she replied, and Val snorted.

  They both hated meatloaf, but Carlito loved it. “Can’t say I’m sad I missed dinner in that case.” He took the leftover corn out of the fridge and set it on the counter. Then, he opened the freezer in search of a new protein. He found a kielbasa, lopped off half the loop, and stuck it in the microwave on defrost.

  “Did you really just stick that other half back in the freezer?”

  His renegade hormones in check, Val turned and leaned against the counter, looking at her. “That’s where it goes.”

  “Ever heard of freezer burn? You’re supposed to put it in a vacuum-sealed bag. Or at least a Ziploc bag. Maybe a little foil on the end like Momma Cora does.”

  “I’ll eat the second half tomorrow.”

  Mina arched an unimpressed eyebrow in judgment. “You’re going to eat half a kielbasa for each meal?”

  The microwave dinged. He retrieved the sausage and cut it into inch-long pieces. “I’m a growing boy,” he said, patting his lean middle. He tossed the sausages into the pan and turned around again. He laughed at the sight. “You still do that?”

  Mina had retrieved a plate. She’d taken her burger apart, laid the patty to the side, and was in the process of cutting the tomatoes, lettuce, and onions into smaller pieces. “Do what?” she asked.

  “Dismantle your food.”

  “Well, I’m doing it front of your eyes, so I guess you got the answer to that question.”

  Val smirked. He stirred his kielbasa around the pan and reached for the fridge. He blinked. She was there. Their hands brushed, and his blood came alive again. He drew back as though he’d been burned. “Sorry,” he said, turning back to the pan.

  “It’s no problem.”

  In the space of a heartbeat, they were stewing in awkward.

  When he looked again, he laughed. She’d warmed up a bit of the meatloaf gravy. Her meal was complete—something resembling a Salisbury steak with a side salad. She’d cut up her fries and was in the process of artfully sprinkling fast-food BBQ sauce over it.

  Val took his sausage and corn and sat across from Mina. He had to smile. “Looks fancy. You could charge top dollar for that.”

  She grinned and cut her burger/bastardized Salisbury steak into bite-sized pieces. “Too bad for the rest of the world. This is all mine.”

  He smiled. “It’s good to see you again, Mina,” he said.

  For a long minute, there was only the sound of their chewing. He was sure she was going to leave it at that. He’d never given anyone a reason to be happy he was there.

  Her eyes flicked up and met his. “Welcome home, Val.”

  Chapter 3

  As days turned into weeks, Val often found himself wandering the quiet house at night. He’d never been a good sleeper.

  “It wasn’t that you were needy or fussy when you were a baby; you were just awake,” his mother had once told him. “When you were older, you’d get out of your bed and come sit in my room. You’d play quietly, but what mother can go to sleep when her three-year-old is roam
ing the house?”

  Luckily, his mother slept just fine when her thirty-seven-year-old roamed the house. It was around 3:00 a.m. when Val got out of bed. He didn’t bother turning on any lights. The windows downstairs weren’t curtained off, and the light pollution was more than enough to see the outlines of anything in his way. It was never really dark in Southern California.

  In the kitchen, however, he did turn on the light. He headed blearily for the pantry and pulled out the Abuelita hot chocolate squares. The familiar old grandma peering out at him from the box made him smile. This was one thing he liked about being back in his mother’s house. She had all the comforts of childhood still stocked. It never seemed to run out. Whenever he wanted something, it was always there. No need to run to the store, for which he was forever too lazy. No need to remember on shopping day.

  He’s never gotten the hang of keeping things on the shelf. Once, when Emile was four and at his place overnight, the little boy had a nightmare. Val had calmed him down by making him a hot cup of Abuelita. After that, though, whenever Emile had gone looking for Abuelita, it was rarely there.

  At four, Emile had perfected his scowl. Daddy couldn’t even be trusted to have hot chocolate to give his son.

  Val stared down at the brown liquid, watching it swirl in his cup as he tried to shake off the sadness that had come over him. He didn’t mind the fact he couldn’t sleep. After all these years, he was used to it. But one of the things he hated about the night was how everything just felt worse. The silence amplified all the voices in his head. Tonight, it was Emile and Johana telling him what a lousy father he was.

  Well, they’d both gotten their wish, right? He wasn’t a father anymore.

  Val shut the kitchen light off and went to the living room. He sat in Dante’s recliner, setting the too-hot cup on the end table to cool. He stared out at the quiet, streetlamp-lined neighborhood, trying to think about nothing.

  Fifteen minutes later, as he pulled the now just-right cup of chocolate into his hands, a car came careening down the street. Val narrowed his eyes, sure that it was going to plow into some mailbox or one of the cars parked on the sides of the street.

  It didn’t. Instead, it pulled to a stop in front of his house. Two women got out, both of them clearly giggling—drunken giggling—though Val couldn’t hear it from where he was. It was the kind where they caught themselves on the car and then, as the driver made her way to the passenger side, each other. They both had on form-fitting dresses that stopped above their knees. The driver was a skinny blonde—the kind who always knew just how hot she was.

  The passenger was Mina.

  Val watched as the blonde pulled away from Mina and started digging through her purse. She handed what looked like money over to Mina. A lot of it. Val furrowed his brow. He knew what it looked like, but it couldn’t be.

  Could it?

  He watched, worried he’d have to go and stop the blonde woman from driving off drunk. Luckily, though, when they finally broke off their cackle party, the blonde walked off down the street. He frowned at that, nervous about seeing a woman walk off into the darkness on her own, but it was a safe, quiet neighborhood.

  Val turned his attention to Mina, watching as she stumbled up the walk. Given her obviously drunk state, the key in the lock was surprisingly quiet.

  It was then Val realized what was off about the whole scene—besides the weird exchange of money. Mina had been home when everyone went to bed. She was acting a hell of a lot like a kid who’d sneaked out after bedtime. That was weird for two reasons. The first was that she was an adult. She didn’t owe anyone an explanation about where she was going or what she was doing. The second was that Val’s mother wasn’t the type to push. When Val had been back in his mother’s house in his twenties, he’d let her know where he’d be as a courtesy only, trying to make up for all the heart attacks he’d given her in his teens, he supposed.

  Mina came in through the door and pushed it closed slowly so it barely made a click. She locked it and turned toward the stairs.

  “Burning the midnight oil?” he asked in a normal voice.

  “Agh!” Mina jumped and dropped her purse, her hand to her heart. “Christ! What the hell? Is that you, Valentin?”

  “Naw. It’s the guy who broke into your house.”

  “What are you doing here in the dark, you emo freak?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Were you waiting for me? That’s creepy as hell. I’m a grown woman, and—”

  “Guilty much? What the hell were you up to?” He kept his tone light, but he had a weird sensation in his gut. He pushed that down. “I was having some Abuelita.”

  “Oh.” Mina laughed. “Oh, man. It’s been forever since I had Abuelita. That sounds good right now.”

  Val pushed to his feet. “Come on. I’ll make you some. And maybe a grilled cheese. That oughta help you sober up.”

  “Who says I need to sober up?”

  He snorted, heading to the kitchen. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?”

  “I’m a grown woman,” she said again. “I can—”

  “Mia.” He used the old name he used to call her when she was young. It seemed like an entire lifetime ago. “Calm the hell down. I’m just giving you shit. You think I haven’t had my share of nights like this? Although, if you’re looking for a lecture, how about one on drunk driving? I know you’re smarter than that.”

  She frowned. “Celeste was fine.”

  “The hell she was. I saw the way she was tearing down the street.”

  “She always drives like that. She didn’t drink as much as I did, and she said she was fine.”

  Val rolled his eyes. “A drunk who said they were fine? I’ve never heard that before. Look, I get that you can’t always stop someone from being stupid, but you don’t gotta compound the stupid. Don’t get into a car with a drunk person.”

  She narrowed her eyes, and he raised his hand. “Why don’t we forget it for now? You probably won’t remember this in the morning.”

  “I’m not that drunk,” she said, sitting down at the kitchen table with a huff.

  He set the cup of chocolate in front of her. “Stop pouting.”

  “I’m not pouting,” she replied, pouting. She pulled the cup toward her.

  “Blow on that.” Val turned back to the stove, ready to put the grilled cheese on.

  “That’s what he said,” she muttered under her breath. Val pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

  His cock, it seemed, had a thing or two to say about the image she’d put in his head. Despite Johana’s allegations, it’d been a hot minute since he’d had a woman in his bed. That was all that was wrong with him.

  A few minutes later, he sat down across from Mina, setting a plate with two sandwiches between them, each sliced diagonally. He chuckled silently when her eyes lit up and she reached for a half eagerly. The moan she made as she took a bite went straight to his dick, and Val shifted in his seat.

  “Oh, hell yes. I’d forgotten how good you were at grilled cheeses,” Mina remarked, her mouth full.

  Val snorted. “Sure. That’s a talent.”

  “When it tastes this good? It sure as hell is. Where have you been all my life?” she asked her sandwich, following the question by taking a big bite.

  “I made grilled cheeses a bunch when I came for Christmas that time. You deprived yourself by ignoring me for no reason whatsoever.”

  It was the wrong thing to say. He’d been joking, but the atmosphere turned heavy, and Mina’s goofy happy face turned sullen. She chewed silently and swallowed. “No reason, huh?”

  He shrugged, trying to tease her. “You were a moody teenager. I know you didn’t like it when I left, but you have to admit it was a bunch of drama, you acting the way you did. It was like you hated me.”

  “Just stupid teenage stuff.”

  Val knew that tone. It was the tone women used when they thought he’d missed something obv
ious. “Well, what was it, then? You tell me.”

  She stared at him. “You really can’t think of a single thing that might’ve happened before you left? Even if it seemed trivial to you?”

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “Yeah, but you must’ve thought there was a reason, even if it was stupid teenage crap. It wasn’t out of nowhere.”

  He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “Come on. You know teenagers aren’t supposed to make any sense.”

  Now she looked hurt. She put the remnants of her sandwich down and took her cup to the sink.

  “Mina…” Val sighed.

  “Thanks for the chocolate.” She hurried past him. He heard her footfalls on the stairs a second later.

  Val sat at the table for a few more minutes, swirling the dregs of his cup around. It was cold now and not as appetizing. He reached over and turned the Abuelita box around, looking at the picture of the cheery Mexican grandma on the cover. “You tell me, Abuelita. What the hell was that all about?”

  Abuelita was silent. Val polished off his cold chocolate and picked up the mess, resisting the urge to slam the dishes around in his frustration. He didn’t even know what he’d done this time.

  The wrong thing. Always the wrong thing.

  Chapter 4

  One day, Mina got home to find her parents arguing. She dropped her bag in the foyer and crept closer to listen.

  “What is it you’re asking me to do?” Momma Cora demanded. “I told him to get out of this house once, and he didn’t come back for almost seven years. He’s proud as any man, Dante. Something I think you’d understand. He wouldn’t let us help him before.”

  “You think it’s helping him to let him just sleep away every day? He’s been here three weeks, and I’ve seen him maybe four times. What’s he doing all day long?”

  “You know how hard it is to find a job these days.”