Catching Raven (12 page)

Everything changed overnight. We went back to being just friends, but it
was never the same. No matter how hard I tried to bury my feelings, they
wouldn’t completely go away. That’s what scared me the most. I’d become so
infatuated, so consumed by him, that I lost my sense of self. Never again. My
only saving grace was college. I spent the majority of my first semester buried
deep in design sketches and dull classes like Business Finance and Statistics.
Pouring all my heartache into my dream was the only way I could repair the
damage. After all, this was my fault. Can’t say Eric didn’t warn me. Plus, I’m
the one who insisted I’d rather see him give his fleeting affection to someone
else over me. If I couldn’t have it all, I didn’t want anything.

Word of advice: when someone tells you to be careful what you wish for,
take that one to heart.

r     a     v     e    
n

Three Years Later...

I glance down and check the time on
my phone while my date, Devin, continues to drunkenly spew politics, repeatedly
shoving his conservative bullshit straight down my throat. Everything from
immigration to our economy is up for debate. Since when are these appropriate
conversation starters for a first date? I’ve taken enough business classes to
know exactly what’s going on with our economy. I don’t need the hour-long
recap. Unfortunately for me, no matter how bored I appear to be, this guy isn’t
getting the memo.

“What we really need are more pro-growth policies in the United States
that are sustainable. That I’m all for. But these immigrants pouring in through
our borders? That shit’s gotta stop. We’re condoning terrorism. Whatever
happened to protecting our own people?”

I wonder if he’d notice if I stood up and walked out?

Just as I’m debating a clean exit, Devin reaches across the table and
steals my untouched glass of Pinot Noir. He gulps it down without a second
thought, leaving me momentarily dazed by his odd behavior.

By all means, help yourself.

He pops a couple buttons on his shirt and uses the fabric to fan himself.
“Is it hot in here, or is it just me?”

“Uh, I’m going to go out on a limb and say it’s the entire bottle of wine
you drained.”

“We split it.”

“I had one glass, and you just inhaled my second one.”

“I thought you were finished...?”

Another blind date gone awry. I’m going to kill Tori for setting me up
with this one. The only reason I agreed to go out with this guy in the first
place is because I wanted to put her concerns to rest. Ever since she moved out
and ditched me for San Marcos last year, she’s been keeping close tabs on my
love life. She doesn’t want my vagina to dry up. Her words, not mine. She says
it’s already accumulated dust, and the next stage is some kind of
petrification. Truth is, my heart’s not in the dating game. I’m far too busy
with school, work, and my internship.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the server walking by. I hold a
finger up to silence Devin and flag him like my life depends on it. “Excuse me,
can we get the check please?”

“Certainly. Will this all be on one ticket?”

Devin looks at me quizzically.

Oh,
now
he wants to be progressive?

Our server glances back and forth between the two of us. The air thickens
with awkward tension. We obviously didn’t discuss who gets to pay beforehand. I
believe the person who asked for the date should pay. Problem is we were both
set up by Tori, so technically no one asked.

“Let’s put it all on mine,” Devin reluctantly says.

I nod my approval. Our server removes our plates and disappears.

Devin leans forward. “This was a total bust, wasn’t it?”

I shrug and rotate the stem of my empty wine glass between my fingers.
Guess he was picking up on the signs all along.

“The food was good.” I wince as soon as the words leave my mouth. A brief
moment of hurt registers in his eyes. I finish off the last of my water, hoping
to wash down the guilt, and place my linen on the table. “Do you need a ride
home?”

He slumps back against his chair and rubs his hands up and down his face.
“Man, I should’ve known a girl as hot as you couldn’t hold an intellectual
conversation.”

Not exactly the answer I was looking for. Color me offended. And while
we’re on the subject, Eric wouldn’t dream of saying something so insulting. If
I were a more spiteful person, I’d make Devin drive himself home. But I can’t
do that in good conscience.

The server drops off the check, which saves me from having to sit through
any more of this shitshow. I whip two fives out of my purse and slap them down
on the table.

Devin looks up and frowns.

“For the tip,” I clarify. “Let’s go. I’m driving you home. And once you
make it inside your apartment, you’re going to do us both a favor and lose my
number.”

He tries to protest, but refrains when he sees the irritated expression
on my face. He opens the booklet and slides a fifty inside, plus my two fives.
We stand up and gather our things, then he follows me out to my car.

* * *

“He did what?!”

“You heard me. The bastard blew chunks all over my upholstery. Only thing
worse would’ve been if it had landed on my shoes. No more blind dates, Tori. I
mean it. You’ve been demoted back to my BFF only.”

“Hey, don’t blame me. I’m an excellent matchmaker. It’s not my fault your
walls are impossible to breach.”

I don’t miss the double meaning in her words.

“This has nothing to do with my vagina and everything to do with his
mouth. Specifically, all the crap that was spewing out of it—before
and
during the barf fest.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“There was red wine. How am I supposed to get that stain out?”

“Oh, my God,” she starts laughing hysterically.

“It’s not funny. It’s disgusting. The passenger floor reeks of garlic and
salmon.”

That one makes her laugh even harder. “Stop it. Can’t...breathe,” she
gasps.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, fighting to hold back my own laughter. “It
was so bad. He was boring me to death with political viewpoints before we even
got our salads.”

“You know it’s bad when his upchuck reflexes are the highlight of the
whole evening.”

“Tell me about it. First dates should be light and fun. Feeling each
other out and whatnot. I was there to have a good time, not sit through
Macroeconomics.”

“You should’ve pulled out a pen and paper and started taking notes.”

I laugh and walk up the steps to my apartment. When I reach the door, I
cradle the phone against my cheek and fiddle with my keys. “Hey, I’m home and
want to change. Can I call you back in a bit?”

“Sure thing.”

“Sweet. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”

I end the call and unlock my door. Leftover zucchini bread caresses my
senses. The urge to throw on an apron and bake everything in my kitchen hit me
out of nowhere this morning. A common side effect of that Bellotti-bred blood.

I slip out of my heels and toss my purse and keys on the counter.
Sauntering into the kitchen, I break off a chunk of zucchini bread and close my
eyes, savoring the taste. Details from tonight's poor excuse for a date start
replaying through my mind, effectively killing my appetite.

Seriously, what was Tori thinking?

Before I have a chance to get all fired up again, my phone vibrates in my
purse.

“Hello?”

Sniffling sounds register.

“Mia? What’s wrong?”

I hear a muffled sob, followed by, “It’s my mom. I don’t think I can do this
anymore, Rave.”

I figured this would happen sooner or later. Nancy’s alcoholism has been
an ongoing theme for years. It was only a matter of time before she broke Mia
down completely. When Mia’s dad died a couple years ago, everything imploded.

“What happened?”

“We got into a huge fight and she kicked me out of the house again.”

“Are you staying at Hadley’s?”

“Yeah, but she leaves tomorrow morning for a family vacation. I’m
screwed.”

“No you’re not. Pack your bags and drive down here.”

Mia goes silent on the other end, then exhales harshly. “You know I can’t
come down and visit. There’s no way I’ll get the time off work.”

“I’m not talking about coming to visit. I’m talking about moving down
here.”

Another round of silence.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Why not? It’s the perfect solution. I have an empty bedroom waiting to
be filled, and you need a place to stay. You already know the area. Plus,
you’ve got Eric and me to lean on. I know it’s not the same as having your dad
here, but it’s something.”

“It’s more than something,” she acknowledges, “but it’s crazy. I can’t
drop everything and leave. Besides, I don’t want to burden you with all my
shit.”

“Mia, I hate to break it to you, but things aren’t going to get better.
No one should have to sacrifice this much at twenty-two. It’s ridiculous. And
no self-respecting parent would ever do that to her own child. You need your
freedom, and I need more Mia in my life. Make that happen. What do you have to
lose?”

She’s considering my proposal; I can feel it.

“If I do this, I won’t be able to pay you rent right away. My savings is
almost drained from all the bills my mom owes.”

“That’s fine. Just get down here. Once you get situated, we’ll find you a
job and go from there.”

I can sense the immediate relief on the other end of the line. It’s so
monumental; it hits me all the way down here in Texas.

“There’s zucchini bread,” I bribe.

She exhales. “Fuck it. Let’s do this. Can I move in next weekend? I need
to finish out the remainder of my shifts at the diner and the café. I don’t
want to screw anyone over. They’ve all been so good to me.”

“I have to work Saturday and Sunday, but I’ll see if I can swap a shift
with Emilio on one of those days so I can be here to help move you in.”

“Do you work Friday?”

“No, but I have class until 1:15.”

“I’ll have to drive all day anyway, so let’s shoot for Friday night if
you’re free.”

“Works for me.”

“Oh, my God. Thank you so much, Rave. Seriously, you have no idea what
you’ve just done for me.”

A wide grin sweeps across my face. “I’m getting just as much out of this
arrangement as you are. Two single chicks on the loose? Uh...yes, pretty mama.”

She laughs and I can’t help but wonder how long it’s been since she’s had
something to laugh about.

“Maybe you can house sit for Hadley’s fam? That way you have a place to
stay until you come down here,” I suggest.

“No way. I’m not asking them for help. It’s not their responsibility to
take care of me. I’ll figure something out. Knowing there’s light at the end of
the tunnel makes everything worth it.”

I exit the kitchen and stride into Mia’s soon-to-be bedroom. I flip on
the light and inspect the carpet to see if it needs vacuuming. I’ve only set
foot in here once since Tori left, and that was to check and make sure she
didn’t leave anything behind.

“If you get in a bind and need to come down sooner, text me. The spare
room is yours for as long as you need it.”

“I don’t even know if this is gonna work.”

“Us living together?”

“No. Me starting over.”

“Start by packing one box at a time. If it’s not what you imagined once
you get here, you can always go back. It’s not a permanent decision unless you
want it to be. Remember that later when you’re torturing yourself with doubt.”

She exhales sharply. “You’re right. I got this. I don’t know why I’m so
scared to pull the plug. It’s not like anyone’s taking care of me financially.
I’ve proven I can make it on my own. Everything else pales in comparison.”

“Exactly. Now hurry up and get down here.”

* * *

Mia moved in the following Friday. To
celebrate, we shimmied our way through one of Eric’s ritualistic, lowbrow house
parties and consumed more grilled hot dogs and beer than I’d care to admit to.
Eric was stoked to see Mia, as always, but much to our amusement, she was busy
flirting with someone else throughout the night—Chase. 

Go figure.

I didn’t even see the point in trying to prevent it. She can handle
herself. Plus, Chase has eased his manwhore streak. Underneath that once
shallow exterior resides a newly reformed human being. I’m trusting him not to
screw my best friend over.

That same best friend is currently chilling out on my couch, scrolling
through her phone, anxiously waiting for dinner. I stir the pasta and sample
the sauce to see if it needs any more seasoning. Glad I did that. I chop up
some more basil and toss it into the pot to simmer. I switch on the light to
the oven and bend down to check the status of the garlic bread.

“Do you think it’s true that men think about sex every seven seconds?”

I straighten my spine and turn to look at Mia. “You’re so random, you
know that?”

“For real, though. Let that sink in. That’s an obscene amount. There’s no
way they’d ever be able to get anything done during the day. Let’s give them a
little more credit.”

“That sounds like an exaggeration,” I agree.

“I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”