Avra's God (18 page)

“Cisco.”

He looked up. Isabel leaned against the
chain-link fence and peered down into the hole at him. He jogged up
the steps.

He motioned toward her blue Walmart uniform.
“What are you doing in that?”

“I quit Stavro’s. Got a job as a
checker.”

“Great.” He smiled to make it more
convincing.

She pushed off the fence and walked toward
him. She stopped two inches from his toes and planted a wet kiss on
his lips.

His eyes swept the car bays to see if anyone
noticed. Enrique shot him a smug look.

“I thought we’d be closer,” she said.

His gaze settled on the lace and the
roundness peeking from the gap in the open smock. One brow quirked
at him. She knew exactly what she was doing. “Later.” She tucked
her hands into her smock pockets, pulling the fabric smooth against
her body, and walked away.

Like a marionette, he watched.

Jesse slung his sport coat over his shoulder
and walked toward the cement block and brick Atlantic Ocean
Christian Fellowship that for good or bad had been his second home
all his life. Sweat rolled down his neck and he ran a finger under
his collar, loosened his tie.

An ancient white Volvo rolled across the
grass and dirt parking lot and coughed into silence beside a fan
palm. He stopped under the shade of the carport, curious. Orange
sun glinted off the windshield of the unfamiliar car.

A girl slid out, shaking the wrinkles from
her peasant skirt. She bent at the waist and flung mahogany curls
nearly to the ground.

A second and a half glimpse of her exquisite,
ivory neck tattooed to his brain.

The girl stood and fluffed her hair into
place with her fingers. She stopped as though she felt his gaze.
Her eyes found him.

He gave her the full-on smile that once made
drama queen Jenna sigh and slap her forehead.

She squinted at him as he walked toward her.
Sunset dusted her curls with henna. Pale freckles sprinkled the
white, white skin of her cheeks.

He held his hand out to her, playing the
church Jesse. “Hi. I’m Jesse Koomer.” The interchange rolled in
slow motion. He wanted to touch her.

She slid a delicate hand into his.

Warm tendrils crawled up his wrist.

“Tía. Nice to meet you.”

He couldn’t place her accent. “Not from
around here.”

“I’m from Calgary, Alberta.”

Tía eased her hand from his, and he realized
he’d held it too long.

“I’m ready for a new start in
Florida—someplace where it doesn’t snow.” She pulled her curls up
off her perfect neck and fanned herself. “It’s warmer, that’s for
sure, eh?” Her stomach growled. Alarm flitted through her eyes, and
she crossed her arms over her stomach.

His forehead wrinkled in concern. “You
okay?”

“Not so much.” Her hands moved in quick,
feathery motions, punctuating her words. “I ran out of money in
Jacksonville. I hoped I might find a family at church to put me up
for the night. But now that I’m here, it sounds crazy.” She
hesitated as if she’d get back in her car and drive away.

“Someone will take you home,” he blurted.

She gave him a tremulous smile. “Do you think
so?”

He’d never wanted to rescue someone so badly
in his life. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”

He turned toward the church, begging her
silently to follow. He shot a glance at her.

Her shoulders lifted, then relaxed. A look of
determination settled on her features. “This is where I’ve landed.
No more gas. New Smyrna Beach must be God’s place for me.”

He felt like shouting
amen
like old
man Rivers did when Dad made a good point in a sermon. He opened
the church door and guided her through, his fingertips pressed
against the fabric of her blouse. An ache to take care of her
washed over him.

As she walked through the doorway, he
catalogued her worn sandals and fine-boned toes, slender waist, the
blue veins under translucent skin on the insides of her wrists, the
curves beneath her modest blouse, and the blue-green of her eyes—an
exotic mix of helplessness and sensuality.

He led her to the kitchen and snagged a box
of Cheez-Its out of a cupboard. Her eyes filled with damp
gratitude. He leaned against the counter, content to watch her peck
at the crackers like a hungry robin. Her back eased against her
chair as he talked about the church and himself. “What about
you?”

A look of longing bloomed in her eyes. “I
want to teach little ones. I’ve got to get a job and save money for
university.”

Jesse smirked. “Daytona State College has a
branch in town where you can get your education on the cheap.”
Inexplicably, the picture of Kallie clenching her schedule in her
fist on the first day of class sprung to life. He ran water into a
Styrofoam cup, dousing the memory and handed it to Tía.

Her eyes sparkled with hope.

Inside, he quivered like a new string on a
guitar.

After church, he stood in the glare of
headlights, a hand raised in farewell, as Tía pulled out to follow
the Malcombs’ SUV home. His hand dropped and the taillights
disappeared. A flash of exquisite neck lingered.

Cisco flopped onto his back. The vinyl of the
couch felt like cement. Avra lived in his head in that spot between
sleep and wakefulness, the one place where he couldn’t shut her
out. He hadn’t laid eyes on her in weeks—since she dumped him. How
did a person just disappear in a town this small? He tossed
again.

What would it have been like if Avra had
given herself to him? He jerked awake. It was wrong to even think
about it. He felt it in his gut. On some level, he’d loved her
strong convictions, the thing that initially set her above all the
girls he knew, like a princess. His nose smashed against the back
of the couch. He groaned and sat up.

At least he left her principles intact. He
kept his promise to her old man. He was glad for that much.

Avra and Kallie lay sideways across Avra’s
bed, two spoons and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia between
them.

“Thanks again for getting me through calc.”
Kallie glanced at Avra.

“You almost had an A
.
Don’t ever say
you’re too stupid to get math.”

“I hope I never have to
get
any more
math. The only reason I got calc is that you taught me
.
Now,
I find out I only needed Algebra for my major.”

“So, you stretched your brain. It was good
for you.”

“I liked my brain in its old shape, thank you
very much.”

Avra smiled slightly.

Swiss Army Romance’s melancholy notes floated
around them like the sadness inside her.

“How are you, really?” Kallie’s voice was
subdued, as if she was afraid Avra would shatter if she asked in a
normal tone. “It’s been over a month.”

Avra licked her spoon and laid it on the
nightstand. “Some days the pain actually seems smaller.”

“Getting dumped has always terrified me.”
Kallie sat up. “I don’t know how you are even going on.”

The compassion in Kallie’s eyes sprung tears
to her own. “I’ve been hanging with God a lot.”

“Does God care?”

“A week ago I didn’t know if He cared. But,
yeah, He does.” She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. “‘God
is near to the broken hearted and saves those who are crushed in
spirit.’ That’s me.”

“My dad broke my heart—” Kallie stopped, took
a shaky breath. “Do you still love Cisco?”

“I don’t know how I’ll ever get him out of my
heart. On Sunday I felt movement behind me in the sound booth at
church and I thought it was Cisco. No one was there.”

“You make me glad I never gave Jesse a
chance. Was it worth it—letting yourself love Cisco?”

“I don’t know.” A warm breeze rustled through
the oak outside her window and ruffled her hair.

Kallie’s eyes lit up. “I’ll highlight your
hair! It’ll make you feel better. I watched Kylie do Maddie’s. I
know I can do it.”

“Why not? It’s not like I’ll lose a guy over
a bad hair job.”

“Gee, thanks for your vote of confidence.”
Kallie dashed to the drugstore for the highlighting kit before Avra
could change her mind.

While her hair “cooked,” Kallie gave her a
manicure and pedicure. Her nails looked like they belonged to
someone else, but she liked them. She actually did feel a little
better.

Drew banged in through the screen door as
Kallie washed the bleach from Avra’s hair in the kitchen sink.

“Hey, Kal. What up? Trying to drown my
sister?”

“Cheering her up.”

“Oh.”

Avra waited for Drew’s usual diss, but it
didn’t come.

“I’m feeling pretty bummed myself. How about
you wash my hair too?” He grinned at Kallie hopefully.

“Let me cut your hair, bud. I need
practice.”

“Um.” Drew stood on one foot in the doorway.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m all about your running your fingers
through my hair. It’s the scissors I don’t want.”

“Clippers?”

“See you, Kal.”

Kallie swatted him with the towel she’d been
using to dry Avra’s hair as he ducked into the living room.

A laugh burst out of Avra’s throat,
surprising her. “I may have gotten you through calc, but you’re
getting me through Cisco.”

Cisco sat on the edge of a picnic table in
Isabel’s backyard, his feet propped on the bench. Rapid-fire
Spanish zinged around the lawn under colored lights strung between
trees. Isabel whacked at her piñata and missed. She slipped the
blindfold down, found him before she searched for the errant
piñata.

Isabel’s mother, in a low-cut blouse, bent
over her boyfriend and laughed at something he said. Relatives who
reminded him of his own milled around the yard. Isabel’s older
sister watched Isabel’s antics with a sad-eyed toddler in ribbons
on her hip. The party was as familiar as the smell of Mamá’s neck.
Even the
aroz con pollo
was the same dish his family ate on
birthdays.

Through the window, lamplight illumined a
crucifix. Like at his house, it was more of a talisman than a
symbol of anybody’s faith. There was no crucifix at the Martins’,
but they were all hooked into God. He felt clean, just stepping
through their door. He hadn’t felt clean in a long time.

The American half of him had fit into Avra’s
family better than the Cuban half belonged here. Neck deep in the
familiar, his gut ached for what he threw away.

Cisco’s skin was hot and sticky where it
touched Isabel’s. The sand on the weathered wood of the lifeguard
stand dug into his knees and elbows. He wanted to get up and walk
down the beach—away from the shame that poured over him like warm
motor oil. But Isabel’s arms clamped around his back.

“I love you, Cisco.” She whispered it over
and over in his ear.

He kissed her, tiny kisses on her lips to
stop her words. Maybe she would forget what she was saying.

Sex wasn’t filling the emptiness that gnawed
at him. That was one thing Isabel taught him. He was supposed to be
having fun. This was fun—guilt eating his gut? He wished he’d drunk
more. He
would
drink more.

Consciousness came slowly to Cisco—first the
pounding in his head. His chest smashed against something lumpy,
and the skin pulled hot and tight across his back. The insides of
his eyelids glowed pink before he slit them open. Blinding sun
forced them closed again. He groaned and rolled his face into
shadow.

His memory yawned and stretched. He’d partied
all night and crashed. He pushed himself into a sitting position,
propped his arms on his knees, and shielded his gritty eyes. The
sun sparkled a thousand knife points from the water that pierced
his eyeballs.

Some kids played volleyball nearby.
Recognition crept into his mind as sleep wore off—Drew, Kurt, Tad.
It must be a church thing. His eyes searched for Avra. His breath
caught in his throat. She faced him—following the ball with her
body—athletic grace in every movement. His eyes traveled the firm
curves of her body, undisguised by her modest suit, the graceful
length of her legs—crouching, leaping. The pain in his head dug
into his ribs.

Morgan fielded the ball, expertly setting it
to Avra. Funny, Morgan had never struck him as the athletic type.
And the guy had been hiding decent pecs under those nerdy
button-downs. Cisco spat the sand from his mouth.

Avra jumped high in the air, her arm coming
down in a fluid arc on the ball. The ball pounded the opposite
court as three opponents dove too late and kicked up a flurry of
sand. Avra’s team jumped up and down, slapping backs and yelling.
Morgan grabbed Avra around the neck and pressed his forehead to
hers. He said something and they broke apart laughing.

Something white, hot, and unfamiliar stabbed
Cisco in the gut.

Cisco glanced at his eyes in the
toothpaste-spattered mirror. He didn’t want to look at his own
soul. Shaving cream peppered with dark whiskers slid toward the
drain in the sink.

He spilled some of the amber cologne Isabel
had given him into his palm. The color of sin. All those church
services with Avra had messed with his head. He set the cologne on
the toilet tank.
I wish I’d never gone.

He was thinking too much. Isabel’s family was
clearing out tonight, and they had her house to themselves. The
musky scent filled his nostrils as he slapped it onto his neck.

This was absolutely the wrong time to think
of Avra—dancing in Isabel’s living room in an empty house. His gaze
settled on Isabel’s face, the dark skin, and silky hair. But it was
Avra’s pale coloring and caramel hair that haunted him. Fear
flitted through Isabel’s almost black eyes so quickly he might have
imagined it.