Say Yes (Something More) (18 page)

I cried until I threw up, and then I cried again. The next day my father brought home a new dollhouse, but it wasn’t the same. It was cheap and plastic with fake shutters that didn’t fold in.

I hardly played with it.  

I turn to my mom, feeling the weight of my childhood disappointments pressing on my throat as I struggle to speak. “Did you send that dollhouse to me?”

“Yes.” She smiles as she traces her finger down the siding. “I built it just for you, and then I built a replica for myself…” she pauses and her eyes glaze over as she focuses on the little pink chimney. “To remind me of you,” she adds.

I sink to my knees and peer inside one of the windows. I recognize the same small furniture I had in my house, the baby grand piano, the dining table and hutch, and the cute Victorian-style sofas. “I miss that dollhouse.”

“What happened to it?” she asks.

“Oh, you know,” I lie, “I grew up I guess.” Even though I suspect The Spitting Cobra, being the sick, twisted bitch she is, smashed my house on purpose, I decide not to tell my mom what happened to it. We’ve each had enough heartbreak tonight to last a lifetime.

 “I’ve been saving this house,” my mom says as she kneels beside me and pushes open the front door to peer inside, “I thought maybe one day, if you ever had a daughter, you could give this to her.”

“I-I don’t know what to say.” I grab my mom in a fierce hug and kiss her on the cheek. I think I should tell her I don’t plan on having kids, but the thought of sharing this dollhouse with my own little girl makes me smile. “This means so much to me.”

She pulls back and looks into my eyes while stroking my hair. She doesn’t say anything, but I can sense a longing in the way she looks at me, like she wants to say something else to me. But what?

That she’s missed me? That she’s glad I’m here? That she loves me?

The silence that stretches between us makes me feel awkward. I don’t know if she wants to tell me she loves, me, but I do know I’m not ready to hear it. Not yet, anyway. I think I’ve ridden this emotional roller coaster long enough today. I sink down onto the soft, plush carpet and heave a sigh.

“I’ve had a long day,” I say to her.

“You look exhausted,” she says as she lays a hand on my shoulder.  

“So do you.” I flash a weak smile. I don’t need to pretend exhaustion. My body aches with fatigue, and my shoulders and neck are wound up with tension. What I need is a hot shower and about two weeks worth of sleep.  

She leans up and kisses me on the cheek. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Mom,” I say back.

She gasps and then covers her mouth, before regaining her composure. “You called me Mom.” Her eyes gloss over, and I’m afraid we’ll both start crying again.  

“That’s okay, right?” I ask her warily.

She nods while wiping her eyes. “That’s more than okay,” she says before giving me another hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

After she leaves, I sink down onto the bed and exhale a deep sigh of relief while staring up at the ceiling. I have no idea what this mattress is made of, but it feels like I’m sinking into feathered quicksand as the billowy comforter slowly conforms to my body.

Ahhhhh.

What a wonderful mattress. I remind myself to ask my mom where she got it, so I can get one for me and Andrés.

Andrés. My heart lurches when I think about him, as I remember we’re broken up now. Weird, because when he walked out on me, my mind was so numb from shock, I don’t think I was fully able to process what his leaving meant.

But now I know.

His leaving meant goodbye forever. No more stolen kisses and passionate romance. No more good morning hugs and quiet reflection together over a shared pot of coffee. No more of him twirling me around the dance floor while I trip over his feet. No more of him calling me mija. I let out a soft sob as I roll onto my side.  

I shouldn’t have let him walk out that door. I could have stopped him. What the hell had I been thinking?

Chapter Seventeen

Andrés

“Que pasa?”

I grab my cousin Cesar’s outstretched hand, and then we pat each other’s backs in what Christina always called “man hugs.” But even as I’m letting go of my cousin, I’m shaking my head. Why can’t I stop thinking about her for at least one minute?

Cesar scowls like I’ve done something to piss him off. I recognize that scowl, because I give it to my mechanics when they screw up. Cesar and I look a lot alike. We have the same eyes and our faces are similar. When we were kids, people used to ask if we were twins, and that would make him seethe with anger because he’s two years older.

I wonder what’s got him worked up today.

He rubs the stubble on his chin as he continues to eye me. “Where’s your girl,
hombre
?”

I match his scowl with one of my own. I didn’t drive three hours to play fucking mind games. “It’s just me,” I growl.

His jaw drops, and he scratches the back of his head, doing a really shitty job of looking stunned. “What happened?”

“Tia already fucking told you what happened.” I brush past him, purposely jamming his shoulder as I toss my bag to the floor and march toward his kitchen. Dude better have beer in his fridge.

“Yeah,” he calls at my back, “but I want to hear you tell me how fucking stupid you are.”

I cross the small living room to the compact kitchen. Last I heard, he was bringing in over one hundred thousand a month running five shops in Houston, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at his pad. Now he’s single again, I guess Cesar doesn’t need much.

Other than a swift kick in the ass.

I open the fridge and look inside. “Fucking light beer, dude.” I groan as I pop the top on some crap that’s supposed to taste like lime. I take a swig as he’s leaning against the counter, eyeing me with that smug look.

“So she doesn’t want marriage and kids and you two haven’t even been together a year? What’s with you?”

“Your light beer tastes like shit,” I answer, “and there’s more to me and Christina, so fucking drop it.”

“All I know is, when you were with her, it’s like you were a different person.” Cesar turns up his chin and nods at me like I’m a pile of dog vomit. “And now look at you. You look like the day you came home.”

Yeah, I came home from Afghanistan a mess, diagnosed with PTSD after my best friend was killed when the truck I was driving hit a landmine. So fucking nice of my cousin to bring that up.

I avert my gaze and take another swig of beer. It doesn’t go down easy, and now I’m wishing I would have stopped off for Coronas or maybe some
Patrón
. If I’ve got to put up with his shit all night, at least I should be wasted.   

“What am I supposed to do?” I ask him. “She doesn’t want to commit to me.” Damn, I’m whining. I sound like a big pussy. It’s like we’re fucking kids again and he’s starting shit just to get a rise out of me.   

Cesar clasps my shoulder. “Slow down and give her some time. Don’t let our family pressure you into getting married.”

My jaw drops, and I take another swig of nasty beer, just to keep from looking at him. Something about Cesar doesn’t seem right. He’s got this look of pity in his eyes, the same look our family priest gave me after I got back from the war. I don’t know why, but I like Cesar better when he’s chewing my ass.  

“She’s still in school, right?” Cesar asks as he pulls a bottle of beer from the fridge.

I nod. “She graduates in a few weeks.”

He pops the top, takes several gulps, and then eyes me for a long moment. “I bet she’s got finals coming up. And you dump her? Mom said her friend just died, too.”

I set my beer down, lean against the counter, and cross my arms. I didn’t come here for this. I came here, so he could teach me his new, more efficient way of running the shops.

“Yeah,” I say. “What about it?”

“That’s cold, homes.” Cesar raises his beer bottle, like he’s fucking toasting me for the way I dumped Christina. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

I pull at my shirt collar, because suddenly the temperature in here feels ten degrees warmer. I know the timing for our breakup sucked, but what was I supposed to do while she was running around with her ex-fiancé? Did she expect me to look the other way and pretend it was no big deal? Just because she said he had a small dick, I was supposed to be okay with them hanging out?

I down my beer, walk to the fridge, and reach for another. The pendejo only has four beers left. Yeah, I’m definitely making a run for something stronger. I notice the only food he’s got is some low fat yogurt cups and carrot sticks. I can’t believe we’re related.

I pop the top and turn to him with a scowl. “Why the hell did I come here, again?”

He laughs and then belches into his hand. “’Cause you need someone who will tell it to you straight.” He’s got his hand on my shoulder again. What’s with him? “You can still fix this, bro.”  

 I take a huge gulp of beer, but it still feels like I’ve got a tourniquet wrapped around my wind pipe. Why’s he acting like I’m the one who needs to fix shit? Christina was the one who refused to commit to me. She’s the one who had dinner with her ex. Shouldn’t it be up to her to fix it?

I remember when I left her apartment how she did nothing to stop me, and I almost think she wanted me to leave. 

“Don’t worry.” Cesar holds up a hand. “I told my mom to back off because I know you won’t tell her,” he says with a wink.  

That explains why Tia apologized to me yesterday, acting like the breakup was all her fault. But Tia didn’t force Christina to have dinner with Jackson. No, this isn’t Tia’s fault.

A nagging voice in the back of my head tells me it’s all my fault, but I tell that voice to get bent. This isn’t my fault. Christina did this by pushing me away. But when I get this feeling in my gut like I totally fucked up, I don’t blame Christina for letting me leave.

* * *

Christina

“Pancakes! Pancakes! Mommy’s making pancakes!”

I slowly open one eye and then the other, to see two very hyper boys bouncing on my bed. They don’t seem to be concerned in the slightest that I’m recovering from an emotional hangover. I had such a hard time sleeping last night. I must have woken up at least five times as depressing dreams of Andrés kept invading my sleep. Each dream was the same. He packs his bag and walks out the door, but instead of me watching him leave and doing nothing to stop him, I’m tied to the kitchen chair with a gag in my mouth. I don’t see The Spitting Cobra, but I can feel her behind me, tightening my bonds and holding the chair down. I’m trying to scream through my restraints, but Andrés doesn’t hear me. Why can’t he hear me? Why can’t he see my adoptive mother is holding me down, keeping me from running after him?

“Pancakes, Sissy!” Manny climbs on top of me, and I wince as his knee jabs my ribcage. “With booberries,” he adds before falling on top of me.

Instinctively, I wrap my brother in a hug and kiss his the top of his head. He snuggles against me, and his tiny breaths tickle the nape of my neck. It feels so nice to cuddle him, even if it only lasts a few seconds. He squirms around and jabs my side a few more times.

“Get up!” he giggles. “Go brush your teef and make number one and two!”

“Geez, thanks for the instructions,” I tell him, struggling up on my elbows.

Gio falls on top of my legs, and I howl as his bony knees jar my shins.

“Careful, Gio,” I groan.

Gio crawls up my body like I’m some kind of bridge and nudges his brother out of the way. He’s got this impish grin on his face, and I sense he’s up to no good.

“Manny already made number two in his diaper,” he says rather loudly.

Manny’s eyebrows draw together as his lip turns down. “I’m telling!”

Gio’s eyes widen, and he straddles my arm while planting both hands on his hips. “I was just kidding.”

Manny straddles my other arm and points a shaky finger at his brother. “You broke my feelings!”

“Boys!” I struggle to free myself. “You’re both breaking my arms.”

“Sorry.” They giggle as they roll off me.

I sit up and shake out my arms as my cellphone beside the bed starts to rattle. I turned down the volume last night, so if I got a call, it wouldn’t wake my family. Not that I expected a call. I lean over and pick up my phone, thinking Grace is calling to see how things are going. Panic seizes my brain when I see the call is from Andrés. Without hesitation, I quickly slide to answer.

“Andrés?” I breathe into the receiver, and then I put my finger over my lips and give my brothers a serious look. Hopefully, they’ll be quiet long enough for me to talk to him.

“Did I wake you?” His rich, smooth baritone melts all over my senses like warm butter.  

“No,” I say as I scoot up against the headboard and clutch the phone to my ear. “I just woke up.”  

“How are you?” he asks, and my heart does a little flip at the note of sincerity in his voice.

Maybe it’s not too late to fix things. Maybe he realizes he’s been a jerk. “I’m okay.” I look at my brothers and smile. They are sitting on either side of me like two innocent little cherubs. I know the tranquility won’t last. “You?”  

“Could be better,” he say
s
.

Even though we are miles apart, the weight of his depression settles over me like a heavy fog. He misses me. I know it. Though it’s selfish and cruel of me, I’m kind of glad. Maybe there’s still a chance we can work things out and he’ll learn to be more understanding of my relationship with Tyler. As I cast my gaze toward the dollhouse on my dresser, the dollhouse my mom made for my children, I think maybe I might be willing to meet Andrés halfway.   

The boys are getting squirmy. When Gio starts bouncing on his knees and whispering “Pancakes,” I know his brother will soon chime in. 

I could shoo the boys out of my room, but I’m afraid I’ll “break their feelings.” Knowing I’m running out time, I clutch the phone tighter and come to my knees. So much has happened that I want to share with Andrés. Wouldn’t it be awesome if he could come down here and meet my family?