Lonely Heart (7 page)

Clothes needed to be washed; waiting for Tiffany wasn’t an option. Besides, if my sister wasn’t here, I’d be doing the same thing anyway.

Getting a washing machine and dryer as soon as possible was high on my list of priorities, even if it involved renting one.

A week of sitting at home, off from work, resulted in reading books on parenting and watching daytime TV. There was only so much Dr. Phil or Judge Judy a girl could take.

My two loads of clothes were in the washing machine. I sat nearby reading the latest Stephanie Plumb novel. The adventures of the female bounty hunter always picked me up when I was feeling down. I just wished she’d get it on with Ranger again. That Morelli guy wasn’t my type.

The hilarious dialogue between the main character and her sidekick was interrupted when laughter erupted, breaking the usual hum of the laundromat. My attention focused on two girls who wrestled with a rather large bag of clothes. Another female followed, holding the hand of a cute little boy. A cart full of hampers stacked so high it was impossible see the person behind it followed. I started to read again, but my attention was drawn to the family.

The two girls, who looked a lot alike, unloaded their basket, laughing as they worked. The woman, who appeared to be in her twenties, waited patiently as her son handed her one article of clothing at a time from their basket. Her husband stood beside her, his back facing me, conversing in their native tongue. The moment he turned around, my mouth dropped. It was Antonio. The last time I saw him was the day he returned my car. That was weeks ago, and yet, there he was. Who was he with?

He said he had no kids, but wait…could that be the sister he spoke of and his nephew? My attention went to the girls. Those must be the twins he told me about.

Curiosity got the best of me. I watched as he picked the little boy up and kissed his cheek. I tried to picture Luke doing the same with our child. That was a waste of time. With the current state of our relationship, there’d be no way he would be around to show that type of affection.

Irritated, I closed my eyes and rested my head against the wall behind me. Tuning out the happy laughter, my focus went to the sounds of the laundromat.

The soft rumble of the washing machines as they spun and the thump, thump, thump rhythm of the dryers became the background of my thoughts. The mixed smells of fragrant detergent used by various customers relaxed me. The scents were something I wanted as part of the ambience of my new home. I made a mental note to pick up some plug in air fresheners to mimic the aura…until I got a washer and dryer.

In six weeks the life I carried inside of me would be in my arms. There were still some after D-Day details to see about.

With Tiffany living with me, decorating the second bedroom was no longer a necessity. The crib, which would fit in my room, now took top priority. The girls were planning a baby shower in the next few weeks and told me not to worry. Yasmine and I window shopped on a few occasions to create a baby shower wish list, so she knew what I liked.

Over the past week, Yasmine and Zachariah had worked through their issues and were now back together. The car accident that nearly killed him sped up the process. I knew in my heart the two of them would find their way back to each other. The relationship formed between them in the short time they’d known each other was more intense than what I shared with Luke after two years.

My mind drifted back to the mental to-do list. A corner in my closet was filled with diapers of various sizes. I took advantage of every coupon and sale I could find. Once the crib was in my room, there would be no space for a changing table. A portion of my dresser would be used for baby wash, lotions, and creams. Though I planned to breastfeed, baby bottles occupied space in the kitchen cabinets. The transition would be made once I went back to work.

The idea of breastfeeding made me nervous. After educating myself on the benefits for my baby through pamphlets my doctor gave me, I was determined to make it work. Yasmine and I made a breastfeeding pact. By the time she gave birth; I would be experienced enough to walk her through it.

“Kaity, are you okay?”

Disoriented, I jumped. “What?”

Antonio stood in front of me, concern etched on his face.

“Is she okay?” A female voice floated over his shoulder.

My vision blurry, I blinked.

“Adrianna, go get her some water.” He dug into his pocket and gave the woman beside him a handful of change. “Kaity, look at me.”

My hands went to my temples as I leaned forward; my head was spinning. “I must have fallen asleep.”

“Here, Antonio.”

He reached for the bottle, twisted off the cap, and moved it to my mouth.

“I can do it myself.” God, that was crass. “Sorry, thanks.” The bottle went in my mouth before I said something else stupid.

“Are you alone?” Antonio stood, surveyed the laundromat. “Where’s Tiffany?”

“At work.” A shot of pain went to my left temple behind my eye. I reached for the spot and massaged.

Antonio said something in Spanish. By the look on his face, it must have been the curse words his grandmother complained about.

“How far along are you?” The woman who stood beside him asked.

I tempered my annoyance. “A little over seven months. I’m fine, really. Thanks.” Antonio hindered my attempt to stand by squatting down in front of me.

“No, don’t move. Sit for a while longer. I’m staying with you.”

“I’m fine.” I squirmed in my seat as his eyes ran over me from head to toe.

“Your eyes are bloodshot and your face is flushed. You’re not moving.”

I sighed and dug into my purse for a bottle of Tylenol. “Thanks for the water,” I mumbled. My eyes shot back to the woman standing beside him.

Antonio glanced over his shoulder. “Kaity, this is my sister, Adrianna. Adrianna, this is Kaity. She lives across the hall from Abuela.”

“That’s why she looks familiar.” She held out her hand.

I accepted the gesture.

“Mamá!”

Our attention went to the other side of the laundromat where the little boy jumped up and down.

“Julio, I’m coming!” She turned back to me. “It was nice to meet you.”

Antonio studied me. “Are you going to be okay? Do you want me to call your sister?”

“I’ll be okay as soon as the Tylenol kicks in. It’s preeclampsia; no big deal.” I waved my hand in dismissal.

“High blood pressure during pregnancy is nothing to play with.” His voice stern, Antonio rose from the floor and pulled a vacant seat in front of me. “Elevate your feet, it will help.”

I did as directed, all the while studying him.

“Adrianna, remember?” He pulled an additional seat beside me and sat down. “There was no one to really help her through. I pretty much went to every doctor’s appointment and Lamaze class.”

Unable to contain it, I laughed, which caused my head to hurt more. “You’re kiddin’ right?”

“No. What’s so funny?”

“You’re her brother…Lamaze? I know fathers who avoid those classes like the plague.” A prime example, Luke.

“That’s a shame. But like I said; her boyfriend was in jail at the time. Our abuela...excuse me, grandmother, was unavailable, which left me.” He shrugged. “It was an eye opening experience.”

“Were you there when your nephew was born?”

“My abuela and sisters handled that department.” He chuckled. “There are just some things a brother doesn’t want to see, if you get my drift.”

“Ow…” The throbbing in my temple subsided, but spiked every time I laughed or smiled.

A set of strong hands began massaging my neck. I stiffened.

“Sorry. There’s a nerve at the base of your neck that alleviates pressure. May I?”

I started to say no. Luke had been the last man to touch me.

“It will only take a few minutes.” The expression on Antonio’s face was sincere.

In need of the relief, I nodded. He adjusted his seat and went to work in silence. It wasn’t long before the pressure in my head subsided even further.

“Better?” he asked after a few minutes.

“Yes, thanks.” He stopped; I wished the massage lasted longer.

“You’re welcome.” He turned his seat back around; we sat in awkward silence.

My attention went to the dryers as they slowed down. I moved to get up.

“Let me. What numbers?”

I started to protest, but a wave of nausea hit me, forcing me to stay put. “Numbers nine and ten.”

He pulled up a cart, unloaded my clothes, and wheeled them over.

“Thanks.” Instead of rejoining his family on the other side of the laundry mat, Antonio sat down again, watching me fold. I spied a pair of my pregnancy panties which were two sizes larger than my normal size. Talk about self-conscious. “Are those your twin sisters?”

His attention averted, he smiled. “Carmen and Catalina, age fourteen and a hand full. Sometimes I feel like a father instead of a brother.”

I remembered what he said about his mother dying while giving birth.

Every time I considered going into labor, it scared me. “Do you guys always come to the laundromat together?”

He smiled. “It’s almost tradition. My father knows nothing about washing clothes. Abuela taught me and Adrianna how after our mother died. We made the twins help out as they got older. Since we moved out, it’s a good excuse for us to get together once a week.”

“Wish I had family like that,” I mumbled, focusing on the shirt in my hand.

Antonio inclined his head. “You don’t have nice things to say about your family. My guess is you don’t like them?”

A cynical laugh escaped my lips. “Like is a strong word. I like and love my brothers and sister. My parents…that’s a different and complex story.”

“I’m listening.”

“Trust me, it’s not interestin’.”

“Kaity, we’re in a laundromat, there’s nothing else to do but talk. Them,” he pointed to his family, “…I know. You, I don’t. You’re interesting. Plus, I like the way you talk.”

I laughed. “You mean my country accent.”

“Yes, and I like your laugh.”

Kaitlyn stared at me. “You’re kiddin’, right?”

“About what?” My grin spread as her green eyes widened, then narrowed.

“You like my laugh?” She shook her head, then turned her attention back to the unfolded clothes. “You don’t even know me. Lord knows I haven’t laughed a lot around you.”

“True, but you have laugh lines in the corners of your eyes and cheeks when you smile. They didn’t get there by accident.”

Jade green orbs met mine while her hand rested on her cheek.

“But that’s another subject. Tell me about your family.” The metal chairs weren’t comfortable, but with a little adjustment, I settled in. My arms crossed, I waited for her reply.

Kaitlyn studied me from the corner of her eye, then focused on her clothes again. “Have you ever felt unwanted, like bein’ born was a mistake?”

“No.”

Her brow furrowed. “Welcome to my world. My father only wanted sons, and my mother fought a losing battle with depression. I’m not sure if it came from my father not bein’ happy because she had daughters or if it was a chemical imbalance. Either way, it didn’t lead to a happy home.”

I tried to imagine that type of upbringing in my family; it was impossible. The only issue we had experienced was the death of my mother. “Your father honestly didn’t want you?”

“Nope. My parents have a farm. We mostly grew vegetables and fruit. We also had goats and chickens. The work wasn’t that hard, but Daddy felt girls wouldn’t work hard enough. He wanted boys to toughen up like his daddy did with him and get the job done.” She paused, reached for another shirt. “I wonder…if I wasn’t the first born, but second or third, would it have made a difference? Bein’ the first sets the standard, you know?”

“I guess it does, though in my family, it’s hard to tell. Everyone after me was female. That made me the special one in my family.”

Her smile was brief. “Well, in my family, it toughened me up. My father treated me more like a boy than a girl. No kind words or special treatment. If he couldn’t get what he wanted genetically, then he made me do it anyway.”

Kaitlyn stood a mere five-foot-four to my six-foot frame. I could imagine her feeding chickens.

“I was three-years-old when my first brother, Bailey Jr. came along. Justin came five years later. My father seemed satisfied with his allotment of sons, so when Tiffany came a few years later, he wasn’t as angry. It didn’t change the way he treated her, though. Bein’ the oldest female, I got the brunt of it. Once Bailey was old enough, he started treatin’ him like a man and backed off of me.” Her expression went solemn from what I guessed were unwanted memories.

“Your mother never stood up for you?”

“Not really. My father has a very dominant personality and my mother was timid. He wasn’t abusive, don’t get me wrong. It didn’t help that she had issues with depression. A lot of times, I was on my own. By the time I reached middle school, she managed to talk him into lettin’ me join the drama club. Talk about surprised. I guess he figured it was better than lookin’ at me all day, you know, out of sight, out of mind? I used the opportunity to my advantage and earned scholarships for Theater. I got accepted at U.C.L.A., graduated high school, then caught the first bus out of Texas. I haven’t been back since.”

“Never?”

“Never.” She paused. “My only regret was leavin’ Tiffany behind. But, she’s here now and things are workin’ out.” She pursed her lips. “Then again, this is Tiffany. She hasn’t had time to get in trouble yet.”

I smiled, remembering the verbal dispute between them in my truck.

Though she had endured a troubled childhood, Kaity appeared to have found some sort of stability. She drove a nice car and lived in a nice apartment. Her pregnancy meant at some point she had been in a relationship that meant something.

Listening to her story only interested me more.

“So you’re from Texas. That’s a long way from here. What did you study in college?”

“Theater.”

“You went to school to be an actress?”

She smiled. “Not really. Actin’ was a great way to escape not bein’ happy at home. I preferred workin’ in the costume department, which is what I focused on when I was in college. Back home, I dreamed of moving to L.A. and workin’ in Hollywood. Now I do.” A smile of satisfaction brightened her features and the laugh lines returned.