Hydraulic Level Five (1) (14 page)

He paused, caught off-guard by my comment. “I’m not faultless, Kaye. Far from it.”

“I never thought you were.”

“Yes, you did.”

What to say? I felt his hand rest, ever so carefully, upon my shoulder. “I’m sorry I disappointed you,” he whispered.

My fists tightened. This was my chance for answers. Caroline was busy with Mickey-gate, he even freaking apologized. Why the heck wasn’t I taking my chance?
Come on, Kaye, just ask him
.

Samuel glanced down at his watch and my window passed. “I’ve got to run. I’m supposed to do a telephone interview with ABC7 in LA for their news broadcast tonight and they want to know Mickey’s story. Maybe a little bit about my latest book, too.”

“Oh…sure.”

He laughed quietly. “Have fun on your date tonight.”

Before I could spill my guts about Mickey or anything else, he brushed my shoulder, waved goodbye to the others, and was gone.

Jaime was right. I was sabotaging myself.

I grabbed my purse, also ready to head out but Danita grabbed my elbow. There was a no-nonsense glower on her face. “Oh, Kaye, we need to chat.”

Busted. Mickey-gate would sink me yet.

Chapter 8: Riffles

Little waves caused by shallow water
and rocky riverbed.

“M
OM
, I’
VE
G
OT
A T
HINKING
question for you.” I crated dozens of spring produce items spread across the counter while my mother, Gail, prepped them for tomorrow morning’s farmers market. After Friday lunch, I wandered over to the farm, killing time before I met Jaime. I tried to read more of
The Last Other
while Mom scrubbed asparagus, but something Samuel said bothered me so much, the words blurred past. After re-reading with no luck, I closed my book and sought out my mother.

“Sure, what is it?”

“When Samuel and I were growing up, did I think he was perfect?”

My mother huffed—not surprising. My mother huffed at most anything. Either that, or freaked out. “Oh, Kaye, you thought the sun rose and set in that boy—his entire family, really. It was so odd, the way you two had your little made-up games, your pranks and cuss wars…you certainly spoke a different language than the rest of us. You acted tough around him, fought with him, like you were fooling us. But we saw.” Her brown eyes grew distant as she remembered.

“What is it, Mom?” She studied my face. “Just say it, please—whatever you’re thinking.”

She sighed, struggled, then gave in. “Well, I can’t help but wonder if your dad and I handled your engagement to Samuel as best as we could have.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just…you wanted to be married so badly, I think, like you were determined to do the opposite of what Tom and I did. I know our failed relationship did a number on you, more than either of us was willing to admit.” She picked up a bunch of asparagus, smoothing a cracked finger over delicate stalks. “Maybe we should have tried harder to talk you out of marrying so young, I don’t know. I could tell Samuel was hesitant, but you were so persevering, so enthusiastic. And the two of you seemed to love each other so much.”

I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt, stewing over what my mother said. Was she right? Had my desire to marry been driven not by my love for Samuel, but my determination to steer clear of my parents’ treacherous footprints? “You thought I was too rash in my marriage. Do you also think I was too rash when I filed for divorce?”

“Well, I’m not sure. It’s hard to make a judgment call like that when I don’t know all of the details.” She misted the crates with a water bottle, glancing at me from the corner of her eyes.

Of course she didn’t know everything. I never told her about the day Samuel left or my very brief trip to New York City. I’d never breathed a word of it, except to Alonso and Sofia. Spilling the painful details of the most wretched moments of my existence was too much to ask, and I opted for dignity over honesty.

Mom still eyed me as she moved on to the strawberries, wiping one on her dark green apron. Maybe it was time to unload a few of those heavy secrets. I drummed up the courage, struggling over a million different ways to phrase my words, not wanting to upset her.

“There are a lot of people who think I filed for divorce too quickly. Dani does. Molly might too, even though she’s never said it. It’s just…there are things…”

My mother paused in her misting. “Like what?”

My teeth craved a thumbnail so I stuffed my hands in my sweater pockets. “What if…something happened that made you think someone wasn’t who you thought they were? And it hurt, really bad. So badly, you just wanted to rip out your heart and hurl it back at them.”

Mom grabbed my arm, smearing dirt on my shirt. “Oh my God, did Samuel hurt you? What did he do? I’ll kill him if he laid a hand on you!”

“No, Mom, geez. Samuel would never do anything like that.” I shook off her hand. I knew she would react badly—that’s why I hadn’t said anything. “I only meant that when I followed him to New York, I saw something…shocking, I guess, and it made me question a lot of things. He’d already been gone for several weeks and I was a head case, half-expecting him to come back, stunned he’d left in the first place. Now I wonder if I was rash in filing for divorce. But when someone says they can’t be married to you, how else are you supposed to take it, right? And then he dragged the divorce out for five months, never signing, never talking to my lawyer, like he couldn’t even be bothered with me, like he didn’t care enough to stop his ‘new life.’ I was so incredibly angry—”

“Wait, when did you go to New York?”

“A few weeks after he left. We’d talked about moving out there after I finished at CU, remember, so he could attend grad school? But it was never set in stone. I thought maybe I’d only misunderstood him, but…”

My mother stared at me, confusion rife on her face. This was a bad idea.

“Just don’t worry about it, Mom. I’m second-guessing myself, that’s all. Nothing new.”

My mother smiled sadly and awkwardly patted my shoulder. “You and me—we both bottle up everything and never say a word to anyone until the cap comes off. Then, when others try to catch up, half the time it doesn’t make any sense.”

It struck me then how very similar my mother and I were. My father had always been a well-meaning but fickle man. He and I had a decent relationship, and I had his impulsive genes, but I was my mother’s daughter. Private, stubborn, I preferred to internalize my fears and failures, dealing with them in my own way.

My dad had loved Gail, just not enough to ever marry her. He’d always claimed he didn’t believe in that archaic tradition (that’s supposedly why he hadn’t married Audrey, either). My mother…my mother loved him, still did. Even though she’d tried to date here and there, it never amounted to anything. And while she managed to carve out a contented existence between me and her little farm, she was never quite happy. Mom was stuck—just like me.

This couldn’t happen. I had to do something, before I, too, met Mom’s fate.

But…what if getting unstuck meant letting go of Samuel? Not just physically separating myself from him—I’d tried that already, and it hadn’t worked. What if it meant letting go of the love I still harbored for him, buried amidst bitterness, anger, regret? Was that what Jaime meant when she said I wanted to be stuck? If so, I didn’t know if I was strong enough to let go.

I glanced at my watch—six thirty. I didn’t have enough time to run home and change before dinner with Jaime. Ah well, the tattered sweater would have to do—it’s not like she would mind.

“Let me get this straight. Not only does Danita Cabral
not
care we’re screwing with her brother’s life, you have her blessing?”

“Yes. As long as it does not, and I quote, ‘in any way, shape, or form interfere with her wedding, or events thereby pertaining to said wedding.’”

Once again, Jaime Guzman sat across from me in the Lyons Café as we waited for our order. It was a bustling Friday night, despite dust-laden high winds. Gusts beat against the windows and rattled the hole-in-the-wall restaurant. Nevertheless, it was cheery inside. This time, amidst the noise of conversations, clanking dinner plates and jukebox music, I felt more comfortable with her. I’d even committed to our dinner date past coffee by ordering a tuna melt and side salad. She chose a platter of cheesy fries, and that was it. The same pageboy cap still covered her hair, another snarky T-shirt worn proudly—a drawing of a Dutch girl with wooden shoes and tulips. Across the bottom it read:
AmsterDAM, you’re good looking
. She said it was her special Friday night date shirt.

“You’re kidding. I thought she and her brother got along.”

“They do, and that’s the odd thing. There was bad blood between them right after he left for the east coast, but they managed to sort through most of it. Heck, she usually takes me down a peg or two when I bash him. But I don’t know…” I was still puzzled over Danita’s enthusiastic high-five over Mickey-gate. “Lately, I’ve gotten strange vibes from her. First she convinces me to change my last name, move on, Samuel’s with someone else. Now she’s all but begging me to drag out this vendetta.”

“Hmmm.” Jaime twisted a paper napkin, winding it around her finger. “Maybe she has an ax to grind with Cabral and she’s letting you do her dirty work. From what I remember about Danita, hasn’t she always been kind of vindictive?”

“Dani can be, but if you’ve got her on your side, she’s a strong ally.” I snapped my fingers, remembering the icy looks as of late. “You know, lately Dani has been casting evil eyes at Samuel.”

“Do you think it might be significant?”

“It’s never taken much to set her off. For all I know, it could be entirely separate incidents.”

“But huge enough for Danita to want to fuck with her brother.” Jaime cringed, catching her words. “Forget I just said that.”

“Nice. Maybe you’ll clean up your mouth now.”

“Not a chance.” She took a swig of ice water, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “See if you can find out from Danita, or Angel even, what the fight was about. It could be something useful.”

Dani had asked who was helping to plot my “Neelie Nixie” revenge, not believing I could be this devious on my own. She informed me Lyons was too small a town for secrets and her boss’s brother’s wife’s best friend had seen me and Jaime Guzman at the café Tuesday night, so engrossed in our conversation that we hadn’t bothered to order food. Welders were horrible gossips.

“Just don’t buy into everything that Jaime Guzman sells,” Danita had warned. “You heard about the way she worked over her ex-husband when he ditched her for that chica who works at the bank. Half of the Hispanic community still isn’t speaking to her.” Her ex still got gay porn in his mailbox to this day. I promised to keep the pranks harmless and she seemed content, even supplying the picture I now handed over to Jaime: A stunned twenty-year-old Samuel stared up from the glossy four-by-six photo, liquid-lined and magenta-shadowed eyes glowing from the camera flash. He was clad in a red knit miniskirt that belonged to Dani, heels, a blond bombshell wig, a pointed black bra—and nothing else.

Halloween was serious business, each year’s costume topping the next. One year, we’d done some creative work with a gothic get-up and pillows, and went as Wednesday and Pugsley Addams. Another Halloween, in junior high, we were a Bee and Beekeeper. But my favorite was when I’d gone as a devil, and Samuel, an angel. The original intention was that I would don the halo and white feathery wings, but we’d switched at the last minute. My photo album had a snapshot of Samuel innocently pressing his palms together in prayer while I jabbed his rear with a pitchfork. I think we were fifteen and seventeen that year.

The drag picture was completely unlike the quiet, virtue-conscious young man I’d loved. And yet, in the picture, it was so obviously Samuel. I was sorely disappointed I’d missed that CU party. At the time, I was in my senior year of high school and up to my neck in a research paper on
The Grapes of Wrath
. But Danita had taken many pictures. So had dozens of other people, which was why Jaime and I used this photo—to throw Samuel off our track.