Chapter 21
Liliana
The next few days slip by in a blur of final exams and getting ready for Thanksgiving. I have three glorious days off and I plan to spend every one of them at home with Ryan and my family.
“Mama.” Tiptoeing into her room, I tap her shoulder gently. It’s only nine in the morning, but usually she’s up much earlier than this.
Last few nights have been rough on her. Crying out in her sleep and moaning, honestly, I haven’t gotten much sleep either. I’m not sure anyone other than Javi has.
“Mija?” Her voice comes out weak and scratchy.
Her skin is so pale today she looks like a ghost. Running my fingers through her hair, I try as best I can to curb the disarray.
“I’ve got to run to the grocery store and get a few things. Ade’s in the kitchen if you need anything.”
Filmy blue eyes blink back at me. “And Javi?”
“Still sleeping.”
Her lids slowly slip back down. “Okay.”
She’s back asleep even before I close the door.
Ryan’s standing in the kitchen, munching on a carrot stick and talking low to Ade. One look at my face though and he’s by my side.
“Angel?”
I shake my head. “She’s asleep, Ade. We’ll be back.”
Adelida’s face is grim.
The writing’s on the wall. We all know it; it’ll be a miracle if Mama lives out the rest of the year.
When the rest of the world is getting ready to celebrate and gorge on food, all I want to do is hide in my room and cry.
Ryan doesn’t say anything until we’re in the car and he’s cranked up the heat to high. My teeth clack hard.
“She’s dying, Ryan?” I turn to him, not holding back the tears.
He holds me, just hangs on and lets me cling and I’m so grateful.
We sit like that for I don’t know how long. Finally-- sniffling-- I wipe my nose. “It’s getting so hard to see her like this. A part of me just wants to run away, leave like Papa did. Does that make me a horrible person?”
Thumbing tears out of my eyes, he shakes his head. “Of course not. Lili, I can’t even imagine what this is doing to you. She’s not my mother and it hurts me. I’m so sorry, baby, but I’m here.”
Chin wobbling, I pat his knee. “I know. You know, I think God sent you to me because he knew I wouldn’t be able to handle this on my own.”
He chuckles. “Then he’s got a cruel sense of humor.”
He always does that, talks himself down. Can’t he understand just how much he means to me? “No, he doesn’t. Because if I’d chosen, I don’t even want to know what I’d have wound up with. Probably another little loser like the one that got me pregnant.”
“You know, I’ve always been curious about that guy.” He pulls the car out onto the road. “You ever see him around?”
Rubbing my arms, relishing the heavy heat pumping through the car, I roll my eyes. “Unfortunately. He and I go to the same school. I bump into him every once in a while.”
“I ever see him?”
I love when his voice gets all growly.
Smirking, I pat my caveman’s knee. “Probably not. He likes to think himself big dog on campus, so you’re pretty much guaranteed to see him at every party and bar in town. Since we don’t do that…” I shrug, letting the rest dangle.
A light dusting of
Texas
snow starts raining down. Which is to say a mix of rain and ice, slush really. Turning on the wipers, Ryan taps his fingers on the steering column.
“Doesn’t it ever bother him?”
“What’s that?”
“Not seeing his kid? I couldn’t imagine that. I’d never do that to mine.”
“Wish more guys felt like you.” I give him a grim smile. “But most don’t care. He knows Javi’s here, I’ve never stopped him from seeing him. First year he’d come around every once in a while. Then the visits became less and less. Until finally they stopped altogether.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
I toss my hands into the air. “I don’t know. It used to. Not anymore. It’s easier this way. Javi’s all mine, I raise him the way I want.”
“And his grandparents?” He frowns.
“My mother is his only grandparent.” I lick my lips, settling back into the seat, staring out the window.
Aching for so much that Javi will never get the chance to experience. I don’t think about these things often anymore, life is just life, I'd resigned myself to that fact years ago and I don’t lose any sleep over it. But thinking about it now, it isn’t fair.
The only grandma Javi will ever know might not live to see him become a man. Might never actually get to hear him speak his first words.
Ryan touches my cheek and I look.
“Let’s talk about something else.”
Appreciating the gesture, I pinch my lips. “Fine, how about what you plan to bring to Thanksgiving.”
“Hey, that wasn’t in the plan. I planned to eat lots of turkey, and watch football.”
I pinch the curve of his sexy ass, remembering how I’d been able to cup them last night. The man could move in bed, made my toes curl thinking about the things he did to me in there. “Loafer, you come, you bring. That’s the rules.”
“Omelet? I’ll make sure it doesn’t look so ugly this time.”
Remembering the first one he made me, I snort. “That thing was pretty hideous. But I don’t think so. We’re not making turkey anyway. We’re doing a traditional Panamanian Thanksgiving.”
Stopping at the red light, his brows gather. “And what’s that?”
“Tamales wrapped in banana leaves, ropa vieja,” I pause, “means old clothes by the way, before you ask. Patacones, which are delicious, they’re crushed plantain’s, taste a lot like fried chips, and probably some tocino.”
“Mmm… sounds appetizing, especially the old clothes, that what you called it?” He pats his belly and I don’t miss the heavily laced sarcasm behind those words.
“Excuse me, mister,” I wag my finger in his face as we slowly ease back into traffic, “it’s delicious. I have no idea why they call it old clothes, but it’s actually steak and vegetables stewed in tomatoes. It’s really good and you’ll love it. Ade makes the best. ‘Course she’s Mexican, so that’s sacrilegious of me to say. But it’s true. So what are you bringing?”
He shrugs, turning left into the grocery store parking lot. “I don’t know, I’ll figure something out. You like dessert?”
“Tres Leche?”
Getting out, he waits until I met him around the other side of the car before spreading his jacket over my head to keep the sleet off. We dust each other off once we get below the overhang, shivering as we walk in.
“Is that that milk cake stuff?” he asks, getting back to my question.
“Ahh,” opening my mouth exaggeratedly, I nod, “so someone is learning Spanish. And here I thought you just liked to hear me whisper naughty stuff in your ear.”
He actually blushes, which is so adorable I can’t help but sidle into him, letting anyone looking know he’s mine and mine alone.
“Not exactly, but this is
Texas
and it’s everywhere. I can’t make that stuff, but I can make a mean jello mold.”
Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I laugh. “Make it blue raspberry and we have a deal. It’s Javi’s favorite.”
We’re tossing what few groceries we still need into our cart. Ryan holds out a stalk of cilantro for me to smell when I see him go completely rigid.
“Ryan?” Turning, I touch his arm, but he’s looking at me.
He’s standing face to face and toe to toe with an older man. The man looks to be in his late fifties, early sixties maybe. More white in his hair than black, wearing thick glasses and a blue button down shirt on his still muscular frame.
Lines bracket his mouth and eyes, but it’s obvious to anyone with half an eye who this man is. Because the eyes are the exact same-- the deepest blue of a bottomless ocean.
I clear my throat, knowing someone needs to break the tense silence, and extend my hand.
“Hi, I’m, Lili. You must be Ryan’s dad.” Maneuvering a step back so that I can press the length of my spine into Ryan, I smile as brightly as I can.
The man barely spares me a glance.
“Lili, Jack. Jack, Lili,” Ryan makes hasty introductions, his whiskey voice strained and rumbling.
Finally Jack looks at me. “Who are you?”
Embedding his fingers into my shoulders-- maybe for comfort, maybe to prevent himself from punching his dad in the face… I don’t know-- Ryan leans over me, his entire body trembling.
“My girlfriend.”
Jack’s answer is a disgusted grunt. “So you’re back. Didn’t think to look your Mom and I up, didn’t think we’d care at all. That it, boy?”
“Cut the shit,” Ryan hisses, “we both know that’s not true. All that time I was in
Afghanistan
I didn’t get not one goddamned letter from either of you, so don’t tell me you fucking cared. At least don’t lie.”
Jack jerks his thumb at me. “You let him kiss you with that mouth?”
His question is so condescending and mocking, that I have to bite my tongue to keep from snapping.
“It’s a wonder you ever found anyone to date you.” Jack rolls a bag full of oranges in his hand before dumping it into the green basket he’s holding.
Keenly aware of the pairs of eyes beginning to gather around produce, I rub my hand down Ryan’s side, hoping to calm him.
“How long you been back?” Jack shifts his feet and it’s obvious the small talk he’s making is completely forced, since he keeps checking his wristwatch and glancing toward the door.
“Mom waiting outside?” Ryan drawls, obviously also aware.
“Actually, yes. We’re meeting your Uncle.”
At that, I feel Ryan’s body go completely still and my heart beats so hard I could taste the adrenaline on the back of my throat.
“You remember, Uncle John. You used to be best friends with his boy, Alex. Good kid that one, comes and visits. You know, remembers his family.”
I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Hearing. Sometimes when someone tells you a sob story you think, it can’t honestly be that bad, right? But this is worse. How can a man just look at his son like that? With such contempt and scorn, hate. It’s visceral and biting and I want to slap the smug smirk off his face.
“Oh, I’m sorry, you mean the bastard I almost killed? Now why would I want to see that piece of--”
Jack leans in, his nose so close to Ryan’s face I feel squished between the two of them.
“Utter another fucking word,” he grates out so hard his spit lands on my face, I have to fight not to gag. “Say it. I dare you, Ryan. We all know what really happened. You’re a liar. A screw up and a fucking liar.”
Forgetting anything other than getting him away from this ugly, hateful man, I shove Jack back. For a fleeting second astonishment floats through his steel blue eyes, like he couldn’t believe I’d dared to touch him that way. But it’s gone just as quick as it appears.
Nostrils flaring, hands flexing, he rights himself on the store fridge, then makes as if to come back at Ryan.
Whipping my finger up, I plant my hand firmly against Ryan’s chest just in case he’s got any crazy ideas. Like say, attacking his dad the way he had Olivio.
“Go away,” I warn, dropping my voice low so that prying ears don’t hear. “He doesn’t want to see you anymore, and frankly, neither do I. He’s a good man, better than you and you never deserved him.”
By the end I’m shaking so hard I’m surprised I’m even still standing.
Licking his teeth, Jack snarls. “You know who the real piece of shit is, Ryan? You. Always were, always will be. Fucking wish I’d made her get that abortion.”