Authors: Whitney Boyd
We sit there for a second, both lost in our own thoughts. Leila breaks the silence finally. “So if David knowing your past isn’t the issue, what is?”
I hesitate. “I don’t know even how I feel, not really. Maybe I am making a huge mistake by giving up on Todd forever. I mean, we were engaged. We loved each other. Maybe I should go back to Colorado and forget this whole thing ever happened.”
Even as I say the words, I feel a hollow sickness in my stomach. Can I forget this all happened? Can I forget David?
Leila pauses for a moment too long. “I don’t know what to tell you,” she admits. “But I do think that whatever you do, you have to feel okay with it. You obviously aren’t okay going back to Todd, and I respect that. Men who cheat aren’t worth your time. However, about David? If you’re not willing to tell him the truth, maybe it’s because you don’t have a future together after all. Maybe he is just a rebound fling.”
Her words cut like knives in my soul. Really? David’s a rebound? I try to remember how I feel with him, try to bring back the happy memories.
“I don’t think David’s a rebound,” I say stoutly. I sound like a stubborn kid in the candy aisle, begging her mom for a treat. “I know he’s not. He’s more than that.”
But I can’t put the rest into words and I stop. Leila gives me a side hug and then stands up, groaning and stretching. “Ugh, I have to get home, girl. But you’ll be okay. Just go on your date with David tomorrow and see how you feel. You don’t need to decide everything tonight.”
It’s true. I stand as well, feeling the blood rush back into my legs with prickly, tingling sensations. “All right. Thanks for listening.”
“No prob.” Leila turns and begins walking down the sidewalk, and I watch her retreat. Then she stops and looks over her shoulder at me. “And Kennedy? Don’t worry about all the what ifs and don’t worry about who you were or what you did before. That was then, this is now. Don’t stress about stuff you don’t need to stress about.”
I tell her goodnight and walk home. Leila’s words echo around in my head. That was then, this is now. Don’t think about what ifs.
Rebound. Rebound. Rebound.
Is David a rebound? I don’t know. If he’s not a rebound, if I really think I have a future with him, why won’t I tell him the truth?
I unlock my front door and step into the dry, cold air of my living room. I fumble along the wall until I feel the light switch and flick it on. Then my blood runs cold.
Cockroaches, at least four of them. They scurry away from the sudden light, two heading my way, the others going toward the kitchen. I shriek, looking around for anything to kill them with. My shoe? The iron I’ve shoved into the front closet?
I’m not a bug person. When I was in elementary school and our teacher told us to collect moths and butterflies for a class project, I faked sick until the project was over. A whole week having to convince my mother that I really, truly had a fever was no easy task, believe me. Especially after she discovered that the chicken pox that had appeared on my body overnight were nothing more than carefully applied magic marker dots.
I shriek again as the closest cockroach veers toward me. His shiny, beady eyes stare at me, I’m sure of it. This is a really bad horror movie.
“
Chiquita
? Kennedy? Are you all right?”
I shriek a third time and spin in the direction of the voice. “Oh thank God,” I breathe, collapsing against the wall in shaky relief. Jesica stands in my doorway, with a baseball bat and a concerned look on her face.
“I hear you scream and come. You need help?” She is wearing a black and red uniform with
Maude’s Maids!
written on the front.
With a trembling finger I point at the cockroaches. “I have no idea what to do with these.”
Jesica laughs, a welcome sound to my squeamish body. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I call my son. He look after bugs. He love bugs.” She turns and steps back into her own apartment. “
¡Niño, niño, venacá!
”
There is a pattering of feet and then little Carlos appears at his mother’s side. I show him where the cockroaches went and he sets off with a glass jar. “I’ll get them, Kennedy, I promise.” His words are sure and confident. Who’d have thought my hero would be a five year old?
I put a hand to my throat and shake my head. “Wow, Jesica, thank you so much. I think I would have died if I’d had to kill them myself.”
“It’s no problem, no problem.” Jesica takes me by the arm and leads me to the couch. “Cockroaches are
muy malo
. I hate them and I have lived with them my whole life.”
“How do you get rid of them?” I avert my eyes from Carlos who is stepping on a cockroach. This one seems to be a particularly resilient little creature, however, because it takes Carlos three stomps before the cockroach is dead.
“If you rich, you pay for the bug spray people every few months. If you poor, you have a
niño
and he does it for you.” Jesica smiles wickedly, her broad grin displaying slightly crooked teeth.
“You can put them in the microwave if they bigger than this much,” Carlos interjects from the floor where, on his hands and knees, he is peering under the stove. He holds his hand up with the fingers about an inch apart.
“Ugh, but then you’d have to catch them to put them in the microwave.” I shudder and Jesica pats my arm sympathetically. “And probably clean up after them. What if they explode like a Tupperware container?” The image disturbs me immensely and I shut my eyes.
My cell phone rings and I leap to my feet. Watching where I step, I make my way to it. “Hello?”
I stare at the wall, blocking out the image of Carlos trapping a bug in his glass jar.
“Hey, Kennedy? It’s David, how are you?”
“David, hi!”
I am happy to hear his voice, relief flooding through me that it’s him. As nice as Jesica and Carlos are, it feels safe having David just a phone call away.
“Oh my gosh, there are bugs everywhere. I think I’m going to have a meltdown.” I tell David all about the cockroaches and how Carlos and Jesica came over to save me.
“So you’re all right?” I hear something clatter on his end of the line.
“I’m fine, I promise,” I say. “What was that noise?”
David sounds a bit chagrined. “I just dropped the pot I’m unloading from the dishwasher. I’m a bit of a klutz with household tasks.”
I laugh and he laughs and for a second, I’m not in my dirty, cockroach apartment. I’m somewhere else, somewhere secure and warm without any fears.
“I wanted to call and confirm that we’re still good for dinner tomorrow night?”
“Of course, that sounds great. I’m working the early shift tomorrow, so I’ll be ready by about six thirty or so.” I don’t mention that I had to beg and plead with Julie, one of the girls on the other shift in order to trade. And I also don’t mention that it will be a major relief not to work with Leila tomorrow on our normal shift. I don’t know if I could handle any more questions about my past from her at the moment.
“Great. I’ve got us reservations at this amazing Italian place in Orlando. I hope you’re up for a bit of a drive.” His voice sounds anxious to please me. I feel a shiver of excitement.
“Sounds fabulous.”
We chat for a minute longer and then I hang up. Jesica looks up from the couch and winks at me. “So, somebody have another hot date tomorrow?”
I blush, my cheeks instantly on fire. “Sort of.”
“You go,
chica
. Is he the same one you tell me about before?” She pats the seat beside her and I sink down, still not fully used to girl talk.
Carlos is scampering around my kitchen, making noise and alternating between squishing and capturing the cockroaches. My feet are up on the sofa because I’m terrified that a bug will crawl up my leg. “Yes, same one. The Gatorland date was awesome, and he’s so wonderful and perfect and,” I hesitate. “And I don’t know why I still have lingering thoughts of my ex.” Of all people, I’m sure Jesica will understand.
She makes a sympathetic noise just as Carlos lets out a victory squeal as he snatches a particularly evil looking cockroach up with both hands. “I don’t know if you ever fully get over an ex, especially when they are part of you life for so long. But you can still have feelings for someone new.”
I repeat that in my mind and then nod. “I guess that makes sense.” I lean back into the seat cushion and say, forcing nonchalance, “So, did you, uh, happen to see the newspapers over the past two days?”
Jesica shakes her head and raises one eyebrow. “No, why?”
I explain about the missing person scandal and then add “I hate how he keeps following me. It’s hard to get over someone when they won’t leave you alone. I want a normal life. Is that really such an unattainable request?”
Jesica turns to watch Carlos scamper across the floor and sighs. “I wish I had something to say to you. But just hang in there. You’ll figure it out. I know you will.”
Then, in a valiant effort to change the topic, Jesica leans forward. “Enough of your ex and problems. Tell me more about your new boy.”
And I do. I can’t stop smiling as I tell her all about David until the last cockroach is killed and my neighbors make their way back to their own apartment.
Chapter Eighteen
The next day I wake up groggy when my alarm rings. It was much too late by the time Carlos deemed my apartment safe from roaches. Jesica and I had giggled our way through four glasses of wine and I have no idea what time I finally collapsed in my bed in a thick, dreamless sleep.
I go to work for my traded shift, but feel shy. I don’t talk to the other waitresses more than is absolutely necessary. A few people give me strange looks, but nobody comments, for which I am insanely grateful. When work is finally over, I sprint home, shower, and put on my Prada black top, American Eagle jeans, and a gorgeous pair of leopard print high heels, and then send off a quick email to Todd, telling him to leave me alone. It took me three different drafts of the same message to finally get the wording right. Three minutes before David is due to arrive, I hit the send button before I lose all my courage.
I peek out my front door to get a better view of the road. David’s Ford pickup is nowhere to be seen. A movement in the bushes right beside me makes me jump back, startled. Then I see its little Carlos, cradling something in his shirt. He should keep my mind off everything until David comes.
“Hey Carlos,” I smile, stepping outside, “what are you up to?” I close my front door and lock it behind me, then turn back to look at the kid.
He beams at me, his dark eyes glinting. “Just playing with some lizards. Wanna see something cool?”
I shrug. Might as well, especially since lizards are a significant improvement over cockroaches. They look harmless, and after last night, I definitely owe it to Carlos to show some enthusiasm for his hobbies. “Sure.” I squat down on the pavement beside him. He has two of the tiny gecko-lizard-whatever-they-ares in his lap, and he lets them climb from one hand to the other.
“I caught them myself,” he announces proudly.
“Good for you. What’s the cool thing you were going to show me?”
He beams and without hesitation, holds the red and orange spotted lizard up to his earlobe. The lizard squirms a bit, uncomfortable in the boys grasp, but then, to my horror, bites onto his lobe. The boy moves his hand away and the lizard dangles there, latched firmly onto his ear.
“Oh my gosh, Carlos, take that off!” I reach out impulsively, ready to smack the lizard away, but Carlos merely grins.
“Cool, huh? It’s like my own earrings. Like mama’s earrings, only mine are lizards!”
I suppress a giggle. He looks so proud. “But doesn’t it hurt?”
“No, not really. When I was little it did, but I’m tough now. Do you wanna try?” He still is holding the yellowish lizard in his right hand, and I see it squirming a bit in his grip.
I reach out. “Maybe I could hold him in my hand but not on my ear!” I’m curious. I’ve seen the lizards ever since I arrived, and, although they kind of freaked me out at first, I have morbidly wanted to touch one.
Carlos obligingly hands over the lizard. I feel its tiny weight, no more than a candy bar from the store, and for a brief second I am proud of myself. I did it! I am actually holding a lizard! But then, my heart leaps in my chest as it scampers up my arm toward my neck. I yelp and leap to my feet, brushing at it.
“Oh my gosh, Carlos, get it off!” Chaos ensues. The little feet scramble up my bare arm, I shriek and holler, Carlos claps his hands and giggles like a maniac, the lizard on his earlobe still hanging on for dear life as the boy jumps around. I finally feel my hand make contact with the lizard and I send it flying off into a nearby bush. Sorry, little guy, I think. I feel a tad guilty having sent him flying across the lawn, but I didn’t have any other choice, did I?
“Ugh,” I rub my hands over my arms. I can still feel where his little feet were tickling my skin and it gives me the shivers.
“That was so cool!” Carlos is still laughing.
I shake my head, but can’t help smiling. “Cool? I guess, in a twisted way. You’re a lot braver than me, though, Carlos. And thanks, buddy, for helping me hold my first lizard. High five?”