Avra's God (27 page)

“Did you kiss him?” He had to know.

“None of your business.”

“I told you every disgusting detail about me
and Isabel.”

“But, I am
not
cheating on you,” Avra
said through clenched teeth. “You and I are not going out. We may
never go out again. Let’s talk about whether you have AIDS, herpes,
venereal disease ...”

He winced.

“Genital warts.”

He hung his head. “Tad sent me to the clinic
back in July.”

“And?”

“So far nothing has shown up.”

Avra’s face contorted with pain. “I hate that
you’ve had sex, something I’ve never even experienced.”

“I was an idiot.”

“Do you have any children?”

He stared at the porch step. “Not that I know
of.” He could barely hear his own voice.

“I could beat you till you hurt as badly as I
do.”

His head jerked up. “Go ahead.”

She stared hard at him, her anger rocking him
back as if she had actually struck him. Her words landed the next
punch. “I wish I had never met you.”

Seconds ticked by.

Shame oozed out of him like pus. He looked
down the street for the yet-to-appear garbage truck and back at
her. “I hate what I’ve done to you. I wish I could live the last
two years of my life over. I’m so far beyond sorry, I’ll regret it
the rest of my life.” He sat on the step across from her and rubbed
his stubbled face in his hands. “Cut me some slack. I’m dying
here.” He pled with his eyes for her forgiveness.

Avra’s gaze raked over him, and he made
himself sit there. Finally, her shoulders slumped. “There was no
kissing.”

His body froze as the information sunk in.
The air emptied out of his lungs, and he fell back against the
pillar, his eyes slipping shut. The knowledge was bittersweet. What
did it matter? No way would he get her back.

Neon light from the Denny’s sign spilled into
the car across the open Bible in Kallie’s lap. A tremor passed
through her. She ran her finger across Isaiah 41:10 Avra had shown
her. “So, do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I
am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you
with my righteous right hand.” She needed to tell Jesse how she
felt. Whatever happened, God would hold her up.

She checked her hair, her makeup—a touch of
mascara, lip gloss—in the rearview mirror. She took a deep breath.
I believe You want me to do this. Give me the strength.

Jesse glanced up at the doorway again.
Kallie. As always, he had that breathless sensation, only this time
he doubted he breathed at all. She wore a denim skirt—cinched at
the hips with a western belt—and a cream oxford like one hanging in
his closet. A loose ponytail caught her hair at the shoulders. As
she walked toward him, the fear in her eyes dispelled the
fashion-model effect.

He smiled at her. “Hey.”

Kallie slid into the booth. “Thanks for
meeting me.” She sat stiffly under the brighter-than-day
lights.

He laced his fingers around his coffee cup
and waited for her to spit out what was on her mind. But she
didn’t. They talked about nothing important for twenty minutes. He
cracked jokes that didn’t loosen her up. They slid into quiet.

The color drained from Kallie’s face. Her
eyes closed. Grease sizzled in the kitchen. Voices rose and
fell.

Kallie took a deep breath. “It’s like this,
Jess. Every relationship I’ve had dead-ended because you were
standing in the way. Part of me has always loved you.”

Loved him? She threw it matter-of-factly on
the table like change for the tip. His mind reeled.

“I’m stuck.” Her eyes clamped onto his. “I’m
embarrassed to even admit it. You’re going to think I’m one of your
groupies.” She looked down at her coffee and laughed
uncomfortably.

“It’s not just you. I’ve always felt our
connection.”

“I know. But it’s really awkward to talk
about.” She looked out the window at the mass of moving headlights
on State Road 44 and back at him. “Do you think there will ever be
anything more for us?”

“Like what?”

“You said you wanted a shot at me, once.”

What was she asking?

“Do you still want it?”

“Are you asking me out?”

She blushed. He’d never seen her so
flustered. “I just want to know if the possibility exists in your
mind that we might end up together.” She took a sip of coffee,
grimaced, and set it down.

“How can I answer that?” He rubbed his neck.
Kallie wasn’t a piece of fluff you blew off when you tired of her.
She wound her tentacles around your soul.

“Have you ever thought about it?” Kallie
pressed.

“Of course—a long time ago.”

“What do you think now?”

The answer materialized black and white in
his mind; he had to tell her. “I’ve always cared about you, Kal. I
always will.” He’d promised her the night they’d walked on the
beach that he would never hurt her like her dad did—it didn’t
matter that she hadn’t heard the words. He’d thought he’d love Tía
forever, and he’d been dead wrong. He wasn’t going after Kallie
until he was sure he would stick with her. At twenty-one, he still
enjoyed the fan club twittering around him like little birds. He
had no idea where his life would go. “I can’t see the future, Kal.
If you want an answer today, it’s got to be no.”

Kallie stared at him for a full minute.
Finally, she nodded her head. “Then, this is good-bye—for
good.”

“Man, Kallie, you’re giving me whiplash.
First, you’re talking going out, and now it’s good-bye forever.
What’s wrong with some kind of middle ground?”

“I’ve had a lot more time to think about
this. I needed to know where you were on—” She gestured with her
palms up, looking for the word. “—this
thing
, so I’d know
what to do.”

He could feel her withdrawing from him, and
he didn’t know what to say to keep her close.

She cinched control around herself, a cool
detachment slipping over her features. She pulled the hair tie from
her hair before it slipped off on its own. “I’m not going to throw
myself at you like a groupie. I need to leave the past behind so I
can go forward.” Her voice was firm.

She stood and tossed two ones onto the table.
She reached for his hand and squeezed it.

He turned his palm up to grip her fingers. “I
don’t like it.”

“You’ll be fine.” She smiled a thin, flat
smile and was gone in a flash of white hair.

He paid for their coffees in a daze. The only
other time Kallie had voluntarily touched him was the night he’d
dumped his dad story.

As he walked out, his mind forked back to
Tía. She had hijacked his senses. He’d never been drunk on Kallie’s
presence. Still, a cord had always pulled taut between them. For
all her beauty, Kallie was
everyday
to Tía’s
exotic
.
So, exotic hadn’t worked for him. Maybe he should catch Kallie in
the parking lot.

But he wasn’t ready to settle down. And he
wasn’t willing to trash Kallie’s heart by giving only part of
himself.

He got into the Neon and shut the door.
Kallie had thrown down a gutsy ultimatum. She loved him. Loved him.
He wasn’t buying her
good-bye forever
drama.
Just see if
you can get rid of me that easily.

Avra opened her eyes to the dawn flooding
through her window. She’d slept, if you could call it that, in her
chair. Last week’s post-Fall Fling fight with Cisco had churned up
so much anger, she didn’t know if she ever wanted to see him again.
Would he even show up this morning?

Last Saturday she’d seen the purple circles
under his eyes, the unaccustomed stubble on his face—evidence that
he cared. She rolled her head around to get the kink out of her
neck. Somewhere, underneath her sleep-deprived stupor, Cisco’s
jealousy held her in a stubborn embrace.

Her stomach growled, and she pushed herself
out of the chair to find something to eat.

She clutched a mug of cocoa and an envelope
of Pop-Tarts in one hand as she cracked opened the door. Cisco sat
on the top porch step where he’d sat last time. She didn’t know
whether to be happy or disappointed.

She sat against the pillar on the other end
of the step and shoved the mug toward him. He took a long drink and
passed it back. She finished the cup. The Pop-Tarts sat between
them.

The garbage truck revved to the curb. The
metal arms and canvas belts grabbed the can and flipped it aloft.
The garbage can lid flung open and swung free on its hinges,
dropping black sacks into the truck. The hugging arms jolted the
can at the top of the arc and swung it down to the pavement with a
bounce.

Cisco eyed her warily. “So, are we talkin’ or
not?”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“The future.”

“Are you going to pressure me to make a
decision?”

Cisco let out a mirthless laugh. “Hardly.
It’s not like I have a prayer after last week.” He stared hard at
the garbage truck as it inched down the street. His eyes settled on
her. “Tell me what you want to do with your life—teach high school.
What else?”

“When my face clears up, maybe I’ll get
married.”

Cisco rolled his eyes. “Maybe sooner.
Kids—you mentioned them in Stavro’s the night I met you.”

She bobbed her chin.

“Kids are cool. Four’s good.” He stood and
groaned as he stretched.

Her gaze darted away from the swatch of
Cisco’s stomach.

He motioned her toward the swing. “Day care
for the kids?”

She curled into her usual corner of the
swing. “When do you think about all this stuff?”

“When I can’t sleep.”

She eyed the circles under his eyes. But his
jaw was smooth.

“Day care?”

She didn’t think she wanted a future with
him, and she sure didn’t want to talk about one. “Don’t know.”

“My mom was home with us.” Cisco put the
swing in motion.

Time to put him under the microscope. “What
are you going to do when you grow up?”

“Fix cars. You
know
I get my degree in
the Spring.”

“I was thinking in ten years.”

“Thanks a lot.” He stopped the swing and
looked at her. “Give me credit. I’m twenty-one, time to be a man. I
want my own family. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He pushed the
swing again. “What about money? Do you need a lot of money?”

“I don’t think so, but I guess I won’t know
till I get there.”

Cisco weaved his fingers together. “Is
there—is there any hope we’ll be together?” His eyes clamped onto
hers.

The seconds ticked by. Was there any hope
left? She didn’t know.

“Would you,” Cisco looked down at his
fingers, still linked together, “maybe think about it—pray about
it?” He looked at her, waiting, fear swirling in the deep brown of
his eyes.

“Okay.”

Cisco reached for her hand, bowed his head.
“Jesus—”

She wanted to pull her hand away, but his
prayer drew her toward him.

“Avra’s about over me. Totally. If You want
her to forgive me, You’re going to have to help her. And if You
want her to give me a second chance—it’s going to take a
miracle.”

Jesse looked across the expanse of his dad’s
desk at the thatch of kinky salt and pepper hair bent over a yellow
pad. The Bible lay open in front of Dad. Commentaries and a Bible
dictionary fanned around him. Rollerblades clack-clacked past the
open window. The fan whirred overhead.

His father looked up, startled. “I didn’t
hear you come in.”

There were new lines in his father’s face he
hadn’t noticed before. The day they’d fought over basketball
probably had been the last time he’d really looked at Dad. Now that
he looked, he saw the sadness in his father’s eyes.

Jesse wouldn’t be here now if he hadn’t been
summoned. He slid down in the unyielding leather chair, not far
enough to appear disrespectful.

His father came around the desk and sat in
the chair opposite Jesse. “Son, it’s past time we talked about
basketball.”

Jesse sat up. Two years of bitterness, banked
only by a strict code of behavior, lay between them.

“I’m a stubborn man. I thought I made the
right decision taking you off the basketball team. I thought we had
nothing to say to each other because we couldn’t agree.” He rubbed
the back of his neck in a mannerism Jesse recognized as his
own.

“Your mother tells me to let you enjoy your
youth. Just because I never got to play doesn’t mean I should
deprive you.” He sighed. “I don’t know, Son, maybe she’s right.”
His shoulders slumped. “All I know is I hurt you, and for that I’m
sorry.”

Jesse clawed at the flint of his anger. He
hunched forward, his elbows propped on the chair arms, hands
clenched at his waist.

Dad held the connection without flinching.
“Jesse, will you forgive me?”

The minute changed on the digital clock on
the bookshelf. A bead of sweat slid down beside Dad’s ear. The
scent of exhaust blew in the window.

Unmanly tears formed in Jesse’s eyes. He
fought for control, embarrassed.

Moisture pooled in Dad’s eyes.

Jesse wasn’t sure how it happened, but they
stood and his father crushed him against his shoulder.

“Will you forgive me?” Dad’s voice quavered.
“You and I have always butted heads—maybe because we’re both
first-borns, I don’t know. All I know is I wasted two years of our
lives.”

The smell of starch, soap, and sweat filled
his nostrils. His father hadn’t hugged him since he was a little
kid. He remembered those smells. He took a deep breath. “Yeah, Dad,
I forgive you.”

Dad’s arms loosened and Jesse moved back a
step, awkward but strangely free.

Dad fished a folded handkerchief from his
back pocket and blew his nose. Jesse wiped his eyes on the back of
his hand. They smiled tentatively at each other.