Avra's God (22 page)

“Are you still smiling?” He stopped. “Uh—how
about Saturday morning and the garbage truck?” He darted another
look at her. “Just think about it. No strings. Just talk.”

She stepped off the curb to cross the street.
“I don’t talk in the morning.”

A hint of a smile crossed his face. “I
remember.” He held up his hands. I’ll talk—that’s all.”

“Maybe sometime.”
In about five hundred
years.

He read her tone and swallowed his
disappointment. “This is where I get off.” He veered away at the
corner. “I’m not coming near your house till you run interference
for me. Too gutless.”

“I’ll tell them what you said.” She peered
into the depths of his eyes. This might be the last time she’d have
the chance to really look at him. Had he changed? She didn’t know
if she had the strength to find out.

Cisco jammed his hands into his pockets and
watched Avra walk away.
Well, that certainly went crappy.
He
was only getting what he deserved.

No reaction to his breaking up with Isabel.
None. What had he expected? That she would fling herself into his
arms? Right. So he quit sleeping around. Pin a medal on his
chest.

The God story had been different. He’d seen
joy in her eyes before she bulldozed it with the abstinence
jibe.

He watched Avra cross Washington. At least
today was over. He’d given it his best shot. He didn’t know whether
to hope.

Jesus, you know what I want. I don’t deserve
Avra. I don’t deserve anything. But, I’m asking.

Chiodos’ hardcore emo
Lindsay Quit
Lollygagging
played in his head. He was so screwed.

Tía poked her head into Zig’s garage. “Jesse,
I need to talk to you.”

He’d started with the band a month ago, and
Tía had interrupted practice seven times. One glance and he read
crisis on her face. What was it this time? “Back in five,” he said
to Zig. He shrugged at Bailey and Mac like
What could you
do?
He bit back his irritation and followed her out the side
door.

Damp wind hit him in the face. The sky had
been spitting on and off all day. They sat on a cement planter in
Zig’s overgrown front yard. The chill climbed through his clothes.
He rubbed his hands together and tucked them in his armpits wishing
he’d grabbed his windbreaker on his way out.

He stared at Tía, waiting, forcing the song
they’d been rehearsing out of his head. She’d buttoned her thrift
store leather coat to the neck. Her denim skirt covered the tops of
her scuffed boots. She looked warm and exotic and beautiful. Unshed
tears sheened her eyes.

“I don’t love you,” she blurted. “I woke up
this morning and I just knew.”

What?

She burst into tears. Always before, she’d
cried in Jesse’s arms. But now she buried her face in her hands and
sobbed alone. A tiny bubble of relief popped to life and splattered
in his head. Sun sliced through the clouds, firing her hair with
henna like the anger heating in his gut. Usually, he detached from
Tía’s hysterics, but not today. “Look at me.”

She sat up and silenced, tears slicking her
cheeks.

“You can’t make a declaration like that
without talking it over. What we have is huge.” He waved his arms
wide. “We can work it out. Did I forget to call you? What?” He
leaned his palms on the rough cement and searched her eyes.

“Why can’t I make a declaration
like
that
? You didn’t object when I told you I loved you two days
after we met. That’s just how things are with me.”

There was no arguing with Tía’s logic. “What
changed your mind?”

“Your family doesn’t like me—”

“They’ll get used to you.”

“You’re too authoritative.”

“You said you liked the way I take charge,”
he countered.

“I don’t like it any more. And you’re too
short.”

He sat back and the jagged edge of the
planter dug into his back. “I’m 5’10”, too short to play pro
basketball, but I’m six inches taller than you. That’s a stupid
reason to quit loving me.”

“You’re always with the band, practicing, on
the road.”

His mouth dropped open. “It’s my dream. I
thought you were all over the
girlfriend of a rocker
thing.”

“Yeah, I’m over it. I want a boyfriend who’s
here.
”

“You’d stick it out if you loved me.”

“I don’t.” It was the calmest, coolest
sentence he’d ever heard Tía utter.

Tía grabbed handfuls of hair from around her
face and pushed them over her shoulders as she stood. “Good-bye,
Jesse.”

Cisco eased the Geo up to the curb beside
Avra’s house.

The rain had stopped and the air steamed off
the asphalt under an eerie orange sky.

Kurt and Drew tossed a football between
them.

His gut clenched. They’d been brothers to him
for most of a year. Yeah, he needed to get back with them if he had
any hope of winning Avra, but he missed their friendship,
regardless. He missed throwing ball, being looped into their
banter.

They had to have heard his car, but they
didn’t look in his direction. He sucked in a breath.
Jesus, I
could use some help here.
He climbed out and shut the door. His
toe kicked a pile of dead leaves on the sidewalk, plopping soggy
debris inches from his foot.

Drew glanced up. “Here’s trouble.”

Kurt looked over his shoulder. “Go away,
Avra’s not here.”

Cisco held up his hands for a pass. “Didn’t
come to see Avra.”

Kurt drilled the ball into Cisco’s chest.

“Ooph. Still ticked, huh?” Cisco lofted the
ball back to Kurt.

Kurt pounded him again. “You suck, man. Avra
better never take you back.”

Cisco clamped down on the ball and jogged
back a couple of steps to absorb the impact. “You’re right. I don’t
deserve her back.” He sailed the ball toward Drew, who passed to
Kurt. “When I screwed up I lost Avra, you guys—”
Honor
.

“Maybe you should have thought about that
before you unzipped your pants,” Kurt said.

The three circled in, eye-to-eye.

Cisco looked down at the damp grass. He
shuffled his feet. “No secrets in this family, huh?”

“Avra didn’t say anything. Word gets around
Daytona State,” Kurt said.

Cisco eyed Kurt’s stony face. “I’m sorry I
hurt Avra. I’m asking your forgiveness.”

“How do we know you won’t do it again?” Drew
said.

“God.” Cisco’s gaze bore into Drew. “He
forgave me, and now I want to get it right. That, and my word.”

Kurt barked a mirthless laugh. “Your word is
jack—”

“All I can say is I still love Avra, and I
want to marry her someday.” Cisco handed the ball to Kurt and
turned away from the glacier of their rejection. He turned back.
“Uh ... I’d appreciate it if you’d not mention the marriage thing.
In the unlikely event I ever get the chance, I’d like to bring it
up to Avra myself.” He buried his hands in his jean pockets,
hunched his back, and stepped toward his car.

The sky deepened to violet. A gust of wind
blew clumps of cut grass across the street.

The ball nailed him between the shoulder
blades, knocking wind from his lungs—and his last breath of hope
for reconciliation. He stumbled and caught himself. He wrenched the
car door open, got in, and drove away without looking back.

Cisco puttered down Faulkner Street. He
checked the clock on his phone. Six forty-five a.m. He and Avra
used to meet at seven.

She’d barely acknowledged him since Monday at
the river—much less agreed to meet him. And she hated mornings. He
braced himself, picturing the empty porch swing creaking on its
chains. He braked as he came alongside the house.

A speck of pink.

Yes!
Avra sat wrapped in a quilt with
her legs stretched across the swing.
Thank you!

Warmth started in his chest and crawled out
to his limbs. Hope. He took the steps two at a time. “Mornin’.” He
stood looking down at her. “Thanks. I didn’t expect you to be
here.”

She stared at him with wary eyes.

He looked around and sat on the wide porch
railing where he used to sit a long, long time ago. He leaned his
back against the porch pillar and crossed his legs at the ankles
along the railing. “So, you’re wide awake this morning.”

“Didn’t sleep much—thinking about this. I
want to hear the whole story.”

She went straight for the jugular. Yeah, she
had what it took to play forward all right. He crossed his arms on
his chest. “It’s history. Don’t want to talk about it.” He looked
at his stony reflection in the window behind Avra.

“I need to hear it. I need to know exactly
what I’m supposed to forgive.”

No way
. He shook his head, looking at
the garbage truck inching along the far end of the street—anywhere,
but at Avra.

“There is nothing you can tell me that’s
going to hurt me more than I’ve already been hurt.” Avra turned to
face him and dropped her feet on the floor. “Either start talking
or leave.”

He squatted in front of her. “Don’t make me
do this, Avra, please.”

“You ran into Isabel at the kegger ...”

He sat on the floor and stared at the gray
painted slats between his knees. “I was with her a couple of times
before I met you. She’s been after me all year, but I ignored her.
At the party she came on to me ...”

Avra siphoned the truth out of him sentence
by sentence. “... beer ... back of Billy’s van ... together till
the Fourth of July.” He hung his head between his knees, not
wanting to look at her eyes. The garbage truck had come and gone,
but his garbage was still strewn across the porch.

“Do you love her?” Avra’s voice choked with
tears.

His head jerked up. “No.”

She wiped tears from her face with the sleeve
of her sweatshirt. “Why did you do it?”

He looked at her for a long time before he
could spit out the truth. “I used her.” If possible, he felt even
more shame. “It was lust.”

“How could you say you love me and do this to
me?”

“It wasn’t about you. It was all about my
selfishness.”

“How would you feel if I did the same thing
with Billy or Morgan?”

His eyes shot to hers. “You wouldn’t.”

“I thought about it.”

He clenched his jaw picturing Avra with a guy
like he’d been with Isabel. Indignation, rage, and, finally,
realization swept through him. This is how Avra felt—only for more
than thirty seconds. He went up on his knees and gripped her arms
through the quilt. “Avra, I give you my word; I am not going down
that road again. I’m living by the Book.”

Avra stared him down till he dropped his
hands.

She seemed to relax when he let go. “Pray
with me?” She looked at him, waiting.

“Come again?”

“Praying is something Christians do
together.”

“Yeah, Tad always prays for me when we’re
together. But, he does the praying.”

“You don’t have to. I just thought God might
help us get through this.”

“You mean through the pile of crap I’ve
dumped on your porch?”

“Exactly.”

“Now you sound like me.” He smiled in spite
of the major ache stabbing his gut. “Let’s do it.” He sat on the
opposite end of the swing.

Avra leaned forward and bowed her head.
“Jesus, I want to forgive Cisco for all the stuff I heard today,
but I can’t. He beat me black-and-blue. I hurt too much. I know You
can do anything—even give me power to forgive Cisco. Please.”
Silent sobs shook her whole body.

Seeing her cry for the first time made him
feel like a fish under a filleting knife. He reached for her, but
let his arm drop on the back of the swing. He knew she didn’t want
him to touch her.

Her shoulders quivered. Her hands reached
under a veil of hair. When her hands came out, morning sun
glistened on her wet knuckles. After a while she calmed and curled
back up in the corner of the swing.

He focused on the hibiscus bush beyond the
porch railing. “Jesus, I know You’ve heard this all before, but I
want to say it again with Avra listening. I don’t know how You did
it, but You took the punishment for everything I had to tell Avra
today. Still hard to believe, even with Tad beating it into my
head. But, I’m sorry for hurting You, for hurting Avra, and even
for hurting Isabel. I don’t have the right to ask You for anything
more, but, for Avra’s sake, will You heal all the things I broke
inside her?” He scrubbed the dampness out of his eyes with the
balls of his hands.

“I’m so sorry, babe.” He made himself look at
the pain in her eyes till he couldn’t bear it anymore. He stood and
walked off the porch. She’d never take him back. He was sure of
it.

Jesse smacked his palm against his guitar
strings, stilling their sound. “The song reeks!” He paced Zig’s
one-car garage in short, angry steps. “Bailey, it’s an A flat after
the F minor. Play it the way it’s written. Mac, pick up the tempo,
would you? Come on, guys, what’s
with
you today?”

A muscle jumped in Mac’s grizzled jaw. He
opened his mouth to yell back at Jesse, but Zig cut him off.

“What’s with
you
?” Zig stood behind
the keyboard on the grease-stained cement.

Bailey shot Jesse an ugly hand gesture. “I’m
takin’ five.” He laid his bass in its stand and brushed by Jesse.
His shaggy blonde mop disappeared into Zig’s kitchen.

Zig’s eyes narrowed at Jesse. “You’re not in
charge here.”

“If you’d do your job, I wouldn’t have to
be,” Jesse huffed.

“Look, Jesse, you’ve been like a chick with
PMS since you walked in here today.” Zig motioned with his head.
“Get outta here. Come back tomorrow when you’re in your right
mind.”

Jesse slammed his guitar into its case and
kicked it half way across the garage against a bag, spewing kitty
litter. Jenna and two other girls jumped out of the way.