Authors: Jessica Gomez
Chapter Forty-Six
Alex
I waited until the last possible second to gather my luggage from the hotel room
, half praying Jasmine would still be there, and half praying she was already gone. It took me a total of two minutes to cram all of my belongings back into my bag.
Jasmine left nothing behind, except
for the flowers I’d given her, feeling like a punch to the gut. I came out of the elevator, mixing with my classmates, and yes, searching for Jasmine at the same time. I finally spotted her and couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
Watching Jasmine talk to Andrew in the lobby, after all he ha
d done to her, pisses me off royally. I wanted to sit next to her on the shuttle bus to ask her what she was thinking talking to him, but she somehow managed to get on the third bus, instead of the second one. By the time we made it to the airport, I no longer thought it was a good idea to talk with her. I shouldn’t have any more contact with her than necessary.
I wasted twenty minutes looking out the big windows next to the runway. Jasmine could have the window seat
since she enjoys it so much. I knew she would love to see Hawaii from the air again, a small gift, without her knowing about it.
When I finally make my way to my seat, I brace myself to see her again. The top of her head is poking over the chair
by a few inches, her hair shining in the sun that streams through the window. She’s wearing a thin-strapped sundress, leaving her arms and legs bare. It knocks the wind right out of me.
As I slam my carry on in the compartment above my seat, my breathing returns to normal. The air is warm and electric between us
, and I wonder if she feels it too, or if I’m just sappy.
We
finally take off. The entire time, Jasmine is looking out the window, throwing off the universal body language sign for,
DO NOT TALK TO ME!
I take the hint and keep quiet. I shouldn’t want to talk to her anyway.
You forget what you did to her, Navarro?
I want to slap myself for being such a pendejo. Of course she is never going to want to talk to me again. Not only did I humiliate and flat out dis her by walking out the morning after I took her virginity, but I also made sure she saw me making out with another girl the next night, so why would she just forget about that and chat it up with me.
The attendant comes and takes our dinner orders, offering up teriyaki chicken or non
e other than the famous flaming burger. I glance at Jasmine, even though I know she doesn’t want me looking at her, and smile. She’s hiding it and hiding it well, but I can see the smile she’s trying her best to keep concealed. Our moment is short lived when she realizes she’s letting her guard down, so the wall slams into place, blocking me out.
Her soft, mechanical voice says she will have the teriyaki chicken and then turns back to the bright window. I look after her for a moment before I agree and have the same thing. The attendant leaves and I relax back in
to my seat. The air around me seems to lighten and come alive for a moment.
Battling my inner pull to keep from looking in her direction is pointless. I have already looked at her about a thousand times. Some full on, some side-glances, every way you could observe someone, I was doing it now. I lacked self-control
when it comes to her. It’s just so pathetic, going as far as opening my mouth, letting it hang open like a baboon, only to close it again without a word. Thank God, the logical part of my brain won out and stopped me before I made more of an ass out of myself, or caused Jasmine anymore pain. It’s probably taking so much for her to stay in her seat next to me. I must repulse her. My stupid mouth opens again; my heart hurts because of what I have done to her. My body and soul begs for her forgiveness; I crave it. My brain is the only part of me that keeps me from speaking.
The attendant is a welcome interruption. “Here you go.” She sings and sets our food down in front of us, then turns and grabs our
drinks.
Before the attendant can move away, Jasmine thanks her. The sound of her voice fills my heart
, but I concentrate on the food in front of me to avoid making an ass out of myself.
“Mmm, this looks good.” The words slip through my lips without my permission. Even during the drama, which is our lives right now, I’m completely at ease sitting next to her.
She stiffens and makes it a point to ignore me. I finish my food slowly, and in silence.
After Jasmine finishes her food, barely any of the meal touched, she lays her chair back and pulls a little pillow up next to the wall, where she proceeds to scoot as far away from me as possible.
Her breathing slows minutes later, indicating she’s fallen asleep. Leaning my head back against my headrest, I close my eyes, envisioning her in my bed, lying on my chest as she slowly falls asleep. The deeper she slips into dreamland, the slower and more rhythmic her breathing becomes. I am still gazing at her like a lost puppy found in a rainstorm, when the attendant comes by and asks if I’m finished with my plate.
“Yes. Thank you.”
The attendant takes Jasmine’s plate and stacks it on top of mine, flipping her tray into place on a second pass. Jasmine seems to sense it and cuddles down deeper.
“May I please have a blanket when you get a chance?” I ask the attendant.
“Yes. I’ll be back in a jiff.” She returns within a matter of seconds.
Fastest service ever.
“Here you go.” She smiles, a little too in my face for comfort.
“Gracias.” I tell her backside, since she’s already halfway down the
aisle.
I unfold the blanket and lay it gently on Jasmine’s legs, then up the rest of her body, hoping the whole way she will not wake up. Later, if she ask
s, I would tell her the attendant laid it on her.
Operation blanket is a success. She didn’t budge an inch. Returning my own head to its rest, I close my eyes again to listen to the rhythmic sound of her breathing. This is going to be the last time I will ever get to be this close to her, to hear her breathe beside me
.
Time warps and before I know it, the wheels touch down.
Jasmine stirs next to me. She sits up and folds the small throw blanket the best she can in her confined space, then resumes her normal posture of staring out the window until we come to a stop and begin to deplane. Even then, she waits until I am completely unpacked and heading out with the crowd before moving away from the window.
I catch a glimpse of her getting on the third bus. I climb on bus two, granting her silent wish not to have to ride with me again. When we unload
, she is nowhere in sight, not that I’m looking for her or anything.
I head straight home, not feeling conversational.
Mi Madre left a note for me, letting me know she had to work late, and that she would be home as soon as possible.
I throw my bag next to my bed and flop down, lying on my back. Because of the time difference, it’s late here in the states, three hours ahead of what I have become accustom
ed to over the last week.
Exactly thirty seconds later, I fall asleep, clothes and all.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Jasmine
My heart is racing. Escaping from the parking lot without seeing Alex is a huge relief. My only downfall is coming home to Margret, which is more similar to coming home to a night terror.
I stand on the porch for twenty minutes before I actually go inside.
Thirty seconds after the door closes, the shuffle of feet sound up the stairs
, the noise is moving toward me. Without a visual, I know it’s Margret… that’s her purple pill shuffle. She stumbles down a handful of steps before giving up to stop and stare. Trying to concentrate on my face when she says, “Why are you coming home so late?” Her drunken finger is attempting to point at me, weaving a web in the empty air in front of her.
“I’m just getting back from my senior trip. The plane landed about an hour ago.” My voice is upbeat.
She looks confused for a moment. “Is the school year almost over?” Are you kidding me? Did she even notice that I was gone?
“No. We went at the beginning of the year this year.” I straighten the strap on my handbag.
“Oh.” She says, turning back around and heading back to her lair.
“Welcome home, Jasmine.” I say under my breath in a fake
, cheery voice.
My father has been asleep for hours or I would have visited him first thing when I arrived
home. By the time I unpack, it’s past midnight, so I climb onto my soft familiar bed and sit cross-legged.
I feel different
; wiser, and stronger, and I’m not sure that I could explain it. The last time I sat in this spot I was lost, sad, and lonely, but at this moment, I am none of those things. The miniscule amount of time I spent with Alex taught me many things. Love, romance, trust, passion, and most importantly, heartbreak. All of these things helped warp the person sitting here right now.
My smile is gigantic, thinking that if our lives were not so deranged
, Alex and I could be together. Flirting with that girl and his behavior toward me was to extract me from his life, thinking he’d done me a favor by ending things abruptly.
And it worked.
Forgiving him for how he ruined what was supposed to be one of my sweetest memories was something that would take some time, because he stole that perfect memory from me.
Life will move on, it always moves on whether you’re ready for it or not. I’ll play his game, the game that he
decided to play again, but harsher this time. Deep down though, I think I know the truth; he loves me, and he loves me as much as I love him. I can’t believe that everything from this week was a lie, but if this is what he truly wants, then it is what I will give him… a life without me in it.
It’s funny to think that our relationship is probably the shortest, but more real than
most people have in their lifetimes.
By
1:00 am, I’m cuddled under my blankets and teetering on the edge of consciousness. I have three days until school ensues, so that gives me three days to forget all about Alex Navarro.
Yeah, right.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Alex
The weekend is slow
and I barely leave the house. Saturday night, Carlos came to
me
with a report. Normally, I’m the one telling everyone else what is going down in our hood. Carlos reports people are stir crazy and unsettled. The day after we arrived home from Hawaii, Mario ran off like a puta and joined our rival gang. Apparently, he disagreed with the beat down he received in Hawaii. I order Carlos to report that I’m sick, but nobody will believe him. This kind of behavior will get me challenged. Maybe that’s what I want. I want out of this bullshit. If someone challenges me for my position and I lose, that would get me out of the gang for good… if I survived.
The thought is enticing.
Realizing Monday morning is finally upon me, I stretch awake. My body fills with dread and excitement at the same time. Even though I have to pretend not to give two shits about Jasmine, I’m tired of denying it to myself; I’m completely in love with her. Long dull slivers are driving through my heart with every thought of her. When I wake up in the morning, she is the first thing on my mind. What will she be wearing? Will she talk to me? Hell, would she even look at me? I would take anything she’d offer at this point.
I pause in my thoughts. “Mierda! I sound like a fucking chick flick.” I fling my covers off and jump out of bed. Getting up and getting moving is the only way I’m going to keep my mind
busy.
Finding out what she’s wearing today proves difficult. By fourth period, it’s obvious she stayed home from school. My first thought is whether
she is all right; the last time she missed school was because of one of Margret’s beatings. Was she at home on the floor, not able to move or get help? It was taking everything in me to keep myself at school. If she’s sick, or just needs a day to herself, I’d be endangering her by stopping by. Margret would definitely go crazy if I showed up on her front porch.
I could call her.
Once that thought ran through my mind, it never left. Calling would be easy. A quick, “Hey, are you okay?” would be sufficient. Hang up and not speak to her again.
Right, who am I kidding?
I rub my face with both hands and then trail them through my hair. This sitting around bullshit is getting old. I’m beginning to experience what my members reported over the weekend… restlessness. I need out of here, now.
I stand up in the middle of fifth period, grab my pack, and sling it heavily over my shoulder. The entire class, including the teacher
, looks up at me expectantly.
“Vámonos.” I say.
The few people in class that speak Spanish understand what I‘m saying, everyone else is looking at me puzzled.
The members of my gang that are in class with me understand immediately that
I’m talking to them. They stand and sling their bags up and over their shoulders, waiting for what’s next.
I head out of class and down the hall. Carlos’s class is only four doors down. If I stay in these confined rooms any longer, I’m going to flip out.
Knocking is for people who follow the rules, so I open the door and stare directly at Carlos. The second he sees me, he stands and gathers his things. His teacher is calling to him, asking him where he thinks he’s going.
Once he is out the door, he looks at me and asks, “Q’vole?”
“Restless, I need something to do.”
He already knows I’m feeling this way because of Jasmine, but the rest of the gang thinks I’m returning to my
former badass self. It’s been four days since we found out one of our own has become a traitor, and it’s time to take care of him. Nobody leaves the gang for another without expecting retaliation, so we go looking for Mario. The traitor’s been MIA, underground since he ran; He’s expecting this to happen.
An
hour later, we find him at his own house.
Idiot.
We wait until his Madre leaves for work, and then bust through the door. In reality, it’s unlocked and we walk right in.
Six of us, including myself, work Mario over until he
ceases to move. Luckily, Mario has hardwood floors, or the blood that’s all over him would be impossible to clean up. His face is a mess; swollen, bruised, and bloodied. His nose looks broken, and he’s holding his ribs.
“That’s what you deserve traitor.” I spit at him. “
Don’t show your face around here again.”
He refuses to move, answer, or even open his eyes
, but he receives the message.
As I leave, the rest of my group follow. Outside, a heavy veil is lifted, taking some of the pressure and weight off my shoulders. My gang senses it as well. They’re laughing, giving high fives, and slapping one another on the backs. They enjoyed the beat down as much as I had.
Carlos slaps a hand on my back, smiling. “Better?”
“Mucho.”
My life is heading in the wrong direction again. After Marisol and mi padre died, I self-destructed. The only way I could keep the pain from eating me alive and tearing me apart was to deliver pain to someone or something else. Beating my fists into Mario’s face is definitely a stress reliever.
“Let’s get some cerveza.” Carlos leads me in the direction of his own house, knowing that no one will be home. His mother ran off with another man when he was two,
and ever since then, his mean, drunk, asshole of a dad is barely home. When he is, he beats Carlos every chance he gets for reminding him of his mother.
Looking at him now, I
know if I left the gang, Carlos would have to come with me. Why had none of this occurred to me before? Even if we remain in the gang, I could speak with mi Madre on his behalf. She would say yes, and he could live with us.
Once the beers begin to take hold of my senses, t
he rest of the night is a blur. The more beer I drink, the less I think about anything, especially Jasmine, which is the escape I’m looking for.