Fragged: A BWWM Military Romance (19 page)

She waited, but I couldn’t explain this. It was a thing deep in my bones. I would never hurt those I cared for. Kids? My kids? No fucking way.

“Let me ask you something plainly,” she said finally.

I gathered my breath. “Ok.”

“Do you look down on black people or not?”

“No.”

We both startled at the strength of my voice. I had not expected the answer to come down easily. But I wasn’t even seeing Rosa. I was seeing the black men I had fought and served with.

I had nearly died saving one, and I would do it again without question. If I looked down on them, I was looking down on myself.

She nodded once. “So this is all behind you at least? This white nationalism thing.”

That question hung before me. There was no vision in my head of some white world. Even before, that day had seemed so far away. I could only focus on the immediate goals: people, supplies and defense.

Now, the idea only reminded me of my father toiling away in his house.

“I only do minor things for my father now,” I said.

“What?”

I picked my words carefully. “Nothing violent. I just help him gather supplies he needs.”

She pressed in. “That still counts as being involved, Calix.”

“It’s just enough for him to tread water. He doesn’t ask for much. I don’t even attend rallies anymore.”

He hadn’t asked actually, but I knew I could never make any case before a crowd again. I didn’t believe it myself.

“It sounds like you’re doing things just to please him.”

“Not to please him. I just need to take care of him.”

She rolled her eyes. “Great so you’re not racist. But the hypothetical kids get a live-in racist grandpa.”

I tried to solve that, but imagination wasn’t enough. I could see no future with my father not catatonic at the sight of Rosa.

All I wanted was to help the people I cared about without them getting hurt. It shouldn’t have to be this hard.

“My father relies on me,” I said. “I owe it to him to take care of him in some way.”

“Seems like he has people who already do that. What about his white organization?”

“There’s not all that many.” That got her to smile for an instant. “It’s different between us. We’ve always been there for each other after my mother’s death.”

“That’s what it is.” Her mouth hung open. “It always comes back to not dealing with your mother’s death. What happened to the guy who told me to face the pain, so that it could only get better?”

I hung my head. “This is what my father did with his pain.”

“I’m not talking about your father. I’m talking about you. You’re the one who didn’t face it. Now you’re supporting your father out of some misplaced guilt? You’d cast a whole people down just to feel like you’ve got your family’s back?”

I started to protest, but she was bleary-eyed and her face was flushed even through her dark skin. She would not listen.

And the more I tried to find explanations, the hotter my head felt. It became impossible to think.

Rosa gathered her purse and stood. She hustled out of her chair and stopped a few tables away. “I
will not
date a racist,” she said. “You decide which part of your life is more important to you and maybe I’ll still be here waiting.”

She stormed out of the room. The place had filled up, even around us. They all looked me as she left. Their eyes were wide with wonder at what sort of man would create that response.

It was the same thing I was wondering myself.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Rosa

I lay in bed, too lifeless to even roll out from under my sheets. The shades were dimly open and the birds chattered outside with endless energy. I might have left The Varsity full of brimstone, but I was paying the price now. My relationships always seemed to end with me lighting the candle and then burning myself out.

Two weeks. That’s how long this relationship had lasted. Two and a half weeks if I was being generous.

No, I wasn’t going to be generous. I was too generous with myself. That’s how I ended up dating a freaking racist. Oh, he could call himself whatever he wanted, but that’s what he and his family stood for.

I’d thought he was so different. He was a family man. He was loyal. He was protective. Turned out, that all made him more messed up than ever.

How had I missed the signs? All I had seen was a tall, hot man and gone wet. I had even ignored the obvious violence in his history. That said so much about me, none of it good.

God, what a screw-up I was.

I counted the birds croaking outside the open window. These weren’t local birds. They were visitors on their way south, maybe to Florida, some maybe even as far as South America.

Later, they would come right back along their path. Every year, like clockwork, they made that journey. I had only done it once and I had lost something at each stop. First my childhood home, then my father himself. What did I have left to lose here? My future, maybe.

I wiped tears out of my eyes, just thinking about the story I had told Calix last night. The words hadn’t captured an ounce of how it felt. They couldn’t capture a shadow of the memory that still lay fresh in my mind.

It had happened on a bright, cloudless day, just before noon. We were walking past an abandoned parking lot on the cracked sidewalk. Our neighborhood in Miami wasn’t nice, but it should have been safe at the time. My father was dressed in his Sunday striped button-down and tan slacks, mouthing the grocery list in Spanish. I was buried in whatever passed for a cellphone back then, texting friends.

I didn’t even notice a thing until my father roughly shoved me behind him. I peeked out and saw three men sauntering up, filling the whole sidewalk. In Caracas, we would have run if young men approached us so steadily. My father had given up his good government job, and taken us away from my parent’s childhood suburb to escape this sort of stuff.

It found us anyway.

I hadn’t seen what happened, just my father standing like a tall plantain tree, blocking me from the sight of the men huddled around him. There had been a low, almost casual request for money, then my father’s soft murmur of assent. His hand swiped down for his wallet.

Once it was out, the men’s shadows moved away. I had been trembling the whole time. I just wanted my father to wrap my arms around me and tell me it was over.

Instead, he grunted. It was a wrong sound for a good man to die to. A last set of footsteps had scraped away hastily.

My father turned to me. A dark red was spreading rapidly across the lines of his shirt. He had clasped my hand. His always-so-calm mahogany face was twisted in deep sorrow.

It was like he could see what this would do to me.

I ran to the store for help, but by the time we called the police and came back, he was unconscious. By the time we got to the hospital, he was dead.

I could still feel the pulse fading from his grip as I held it in the cold metal interior of the ambulance. It had been faint, and then it was gone from the world completely.

I blinked backed the tears, but there were only a few. Usually that memory turned my cheeks into waterfalls. Now, what water came was hot and sparse, like a desert creek. I wasn’t sad. I was disappointed.

I’d told Calix the story to show him how it hadn’t broken me. But, it had. It was so clear now. Deep down, I had always been looking for a man who would not have died that day. Who could have faced those men and broken them.

Calix would have survived. He might even enjoy breaking some Latino skulls. Is that what Papá would have wanted for me?

The whole relationship had been a waste. I’d been wallowing in it and others just the same my whole adult life. Enough was enough, starting today.

I shot up and went to the window. I didn’t just open the blinds, I raised them and let the sun sear me. The birds polluting the serenity outside flapped away shrieking.

I got ready and hustled downstairs hoping for a quick bite to eat. I’d already be at least fifteen minutes late, but it was better to not be hungry as I got chewed out by Lilly. At least, thanks to Lem, I wouldn’t be terrified that our shift manager, Rhonda, would find out and use it as an excuse to fire me.

Mamá was stooped over the sink, washing dishes. I pecked her on the cheeks and rushed over to the dining room to find my breakfast gelling. It was perfectly portable: arepa with eggs and pork and avocado filling.

I grabbed it and was about to head out when I saw my sister seated at the far end of the table. She was bent over her phone, her hair dropping down over it like a cloak.

“Shouldn’t you be heading for the bus?” I asked. “It’s almost seven thirty.”

“Elsa, you need to go,” Mama echoed behind me. “It is the first day of your senior year, god willing. I do not want to be here doing this all again next year.”

“Ok,” Elsa said, still texting as she got up.

Annoyed, I came up and snatched her phone.

“Hey!” she yelled.

“Focus on what’s in front of you!”

I waved it out of her reach and saw the last message on her side:
Can’t wait to see how you look with it off.

The message above said:
Girl, dis shirt don’t even fit nemore, aftr my last workout.

The little picture next to it showed a Latino guy with a cute, but smooth face. He was lifting up a wifebeater to show off his abs.

“What the hell, Rosa?” Elsa leaped for the phone. “Give it back.”

I lowered it within reach, just as another message came from Mr. Abs:
Girl, you best bring protecxion, if u no wut I mean.

Elsa snatched it back and made a face like a badger.

“You should not be dating that guy,” I said. “He looks like a loser.”

“Oh, that’s rich,” she said. “Yeah I need advice from
you
on guys.”

“What?” I spat out of reflex. As if I had not been telling myself the same thing just a little while back.

Elsa picked up her backpack, and huffed off to the front door. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find a guy who’d been shot like you.”

“Who’s been shot?” Mamá came out, wiping her hands with a towel. “Ah, the man Rosa is dating.”

“He’s not…” I started, but I wasn’t in a mood to explain. Not with the words hitting me like gunshots. All these big red flags heading my way, and I didn’t notice until I was being smothered under their banners. I ended up beating Elsa out the door.

The MARTA showed up just as I got there, for which I was grateful. I was eager to get going, to move away quickly from the foolish past I had made for myself. I watched other people and tried to picture myself living their normal lives.

I got to work just twenty five minutes late. Lilly was out talking to a patient who looked homeless. Her chest barely moved under her green and white smock. Even aisles away, I could smell the guy.

I tried sneaking into the nurse’s station, but she came back and spotted me. She stood with her hands at her hips, shooting scalpels with her gaze.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I said, ducking my eyes and looking out at the waiting area.

“Sorry would not have cut it if Rhonda had whisked by and seen you missing. You could have at least texted me an excuse to give her.”

“So she didn’t come by?”

“That’s not the point.”

“I know, I’m just checking. I will definitely let you know next time.”

“Next time?!”

“I mean, there won’t be a next time.”

She dropped into her seat, and jabbed out her frustration on her poor keyboard.

“Did you finish that guy?” I asked.

“I did. He’s not urgent. Count yourself lucky.”

“Alright, I’ll start on the rest.”

The place was still pretty deserted, but an old woman and her son had just come in. I grabbed forms and started to head out.

“Hold on,” she said. “You’re not even going to give me a reason for why you showed up so late?”

“It’s nothing big,” I said.

Lilly rolled over and whispered up with saucer eyes. “Was it morning sex?”

“No! Come on.” Then I said it again softly. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Good. Cause I definitely wouldn’t want to hear about it or anything.”

“Right.” I crouched in. “That bored at home? Not trying to seal in the baby with a bit more sex?”

“That’s not how reproduction works.” Lilly rolled back to her monitor. “We’re taking a time out from that stuff until it goes back to being fun.”

“It shouldn’t take Paul long,” I said, as I headed out. “You’ll be like a completely new woman in a few months.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted a baby.”

“You’ll feel it too someday.”

A new chill raced down my shoulders, as I remembered talking with Calix about kids. How in the hell had that conversation put me in any sort of nesting mood?