* * *
The next day we take Michael to the park. I watch with admiration as Andrés patiently teaches the little boy how to operate the remote control. When we return him to his mother, a little over an hour later, she’s scowling at us again from behind the screen door. She shuts the door in Andrés’s face without even a “thank you” or a “good-bye.”
Andrés turns to me and shrugs, but I can tell he’s upset as he trudges back to his truck without a word. It’s entirely unfair of her to treat Andrés like this. I’m tempted to bang on that screen door and give her a piece of my mind, but I remind myself this woman is grieving. I’ve never known the feeling of losing a loved one, so I don’t feel I have the right to judge her. Still, I hope she comes to realize Andrés isn’t to blame for her husband’s death.
I remember Andrés telling me he made a promise to his best friend, and I realize the significance of that promise. Before James died, Andrés had promised his friend he’d look after his kids if anything happened to him. Letty was making it nearly impossible for Andrés to fulfill his vow, but he wasn’t giving up.
I have to admire that about Andrés. He honors his promises. I think of the other men in my life, like my father or Jackson. They would have turned around and gotten back in the truck when they realized they weren’t welcome, or worse, they probably wouldn’t have shown up at all.
As Andrés hits the accelerator and we drive down 35 back to Austin, I reach over and rest my hand on his. He turns his palm up and laces his fingers through mine. We sit in silence for the rest of the trip, and I keep thinking how lucky I am to have found this amazing man.
* * *
Andrés can’t stop thinking how lucky he is to have found this amazing woman as her words from last night replay in his mind.
You do now,
she told him when he said he had no one to come home to.
He keeps telling himself this thing they have together might not last, but even after he’s revealed his inner demons, she’s still beside him, her hand entwined with his. He has to be the luckiest man in the world. And yet, even as he thinks it, a wave of shame overcomes him.
James wasn’t lucky. Andrés’s best friend had a bright future ahead of him after he got out of the Army. Like, Christina, he was an amazing artist. Andrés already had a job lined up for James at Tio’s shop.
But James is dead now, while Andrés is fortunate enough to go on living. Why Andrés? What has he done to deserve life? What has he done to deserve Christina?
But when she lays her head on his shoulder and snuggles up against his arm, despair and grief are replaced by longing and hope. Maybe he does deserve this. Either way, he isn’t about to give her up. She means too much to him.
Chapter Nineteen
I do not want to go home, but I am out of clean clothes, plus I need to refuel art supplies. Andrés says I can paint in his kitchen, and I really want to try my hand at that beautiful courtyard on The Riverwalk.
I pull in front of the house and heave a frustrated groan. Mom’s car is parked in the circular driveway. Great.
I notice Marta’s little station wagon is also parked in the drive. Marta is our Mexican housekeeper. Her choppy English bothers Mother, so she usually makes up some excuse like having a migraine, and keeps to her room while Marta cleans. If I’m lucky, I can slip in quietly without being seen or heard by my mother, grab what I need, and be back out the door before she knows I’m there.
No such luck.
The Spitting Cobra is waiting for me when I walk into the foyer. She must have some kind of guilt trip radar I’m unaware of.
“Oh, how nice of you to stop by,” she hisses.
I roll my eyes and walk past her, practically flying up the stairs in an effort to escape her venom. But, since my mother loves a good fight, I can feel her serpentine tongue lapping at my heels as she follows me to my room.
She eyes me through slitted lids as I pack my bag with clean clothes. “Where are you going?”
“To Andrés’s house,” I answer curtly.
“No, you’re not.” She comes over and tosses my bag to the floor. “If you absolutely must date minorities, then stick to Asians.” She wags a manicured finger in my face. “They are far more ambitious.”
She stuns me into silence. I gape at her for a long moment.
Is this woman for real?
But she’s not fazed by my reaction. “I met some Asians at the country club today,” she rambles on in a haughty tone. “Very nice people, and they have a single son who’s not bad looking for an Asian. They made their fortune in fast food. Can you believe it? They own those little Noodle Express restaurants. It’s a nationwide chain. Anyway, they’ve invited us to their dinner party tonight.” She arches a penciled brow and twists her plump lips in a scowl. “Are you listening to me?”
I eye her with disdain. “Unfortunately.”
“Darling, if you want to have sex with a Mexican laborer, then by all means enjoy yourself, but you’re seeing this boy far too often. Imagine what my friends will say if they think you two are a couple.” She turns up her nose and makes a face of disgust, as if she’s just eaten something sour.
“Mom.” I groan while looking her dead in the eye. “We
are
a couple.”
Her face turns bright red, and I back away, waiting for The Cobra to strike.
“I don’t believe it.” She throws up her hands. “You would really throw away the chance to marry into one of the richest families in Texas for a poor,
dumb,
Mexican?”
I know she emphasizes the word “dumb” to hurt me.
“Just because he’s a poor Mexican, doesn’t make him stupid,” I growl.
I hear the sound of a woman clearing her throat and spin around. Marta is behind me, clutching a scrub brush in one hand and a bucket in the other. The heavy-set woman’s usually tanned cheeks are flushed a bright pink.
“What do you want?” Mother snaps.
“I’m finished cleaning downstairs,” Marta says in firm tone with only a slight accent.
“Fine.” Mom waves her away. “Get busy on the rest.”
Marta narrows her eyes at Mother. “I don’t think so, señora.” She drops the brush and bucket on the padded carpet, sloshing grey, soapy water everywhere, and then stomps off.
“Marta? Where are you going?” Mother shrieks as she pushes past me and races after her. “My bathrooms need to be cleaned! I’ve got soap scum in my shower!”
I seize the moment to pull my phone out of my purse and fire off a text to Grace.
Is that apartment still available?
She responds right away.
Yep.
Relief floods through me. I have to get out of this house.
Could you please hold it for me? I can put down the deposit today.
I’ll go tell the manager right now,
she answers.
Mom is back, stomping into my room so hard, I swear she’s going to break an ankle in those flimsy heels. “Now look at what you’ve done! Who’s going to scrub my toilets?”
I look at her coolly. Even though the anger welling up inside me is threatening to split my skull in two, I will not let this snake know she unnerves me. “I’m moving out.”
Her eyes bulge. “What?”
I turn back to my packing. “I can’t live here anymore.”
“You think it’s going to be easy on your own, but it’s not.” She laughs. “Do you think you can pay the bills painting cars?”
I’m so aggravated now, I’m seeing red, but I don’t show it as I turn and flash a slow and deliberate smile. “I made almost four thousand dollars last week. I’m not a math major, but I’m pretty sure that’s a six-figure yearly income.”
She folds her arms across her chest and taps her chin with her finger. “Jackson will be making seven figures.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t give a damn what Jackson makes.”
“Fine, move out!” She waves wildly at the big, ugly, four-poster bed. “But you can’t take the bed!”
“That gaudy nightmare?” A shrill burst of laugher escapes my throat. “I don’t even like that bed.”
“Liar,” she snaps. “You begged me to buy it.”
Rage overpowers me. I’m so beyond angry, I finally snap. “That’s because I couldn’t stand sleeping in a rape bed!” I scream.
I’ve kept my father’s molestation a secret for so long because I didn’t want to hurt my mother. I always thought there was no sense in ruining both of our lives, but the woman has obviously never given a damn about me. Telling her about it will do no good because my abuser is dead now, but I’m not trying to do good. I’m trying to hurt her like she’s always hurt me.
When she just stands there, this vacant stare in her eyes, I can’t tell if she’s in shock, or just doesn’t care. I tell myself it has to be shock. No mother would be
that
cruel. I should have kept that secret locked away. I curse myself for deliberately hurting my mother. Sure, she’s an evil, sadistic bitch, but that doesn’t mean I need to be one, too.
But there’s nothing I can do about it now. I walk past my mother, who’s turned to stone.
When I walk outside, nearly blinded by the hot, Texas sun, I notice Karri’s mom’s car parked in the driveway. I lift open the hatch on my vehicle and place my bag of clothes inside.
To my surprise, Karri walks up to me. She’s got this sheepish look on her face, like a kid who was caught with her hand in the candy jar.
“Hey.” She nods toward my open trunk. “You moving out?”
“Yeah.” I push my bag to the back and make room for my art supplies. “I got an apartment.”
I turn to her; she’s rocking on her heels. She’s not wearing any makeup. Her skin is a ghostly pallor. Her eyes are framed by dark circles and heavy lines. I realize she looks far older than me, even though we’re only separated by a few months. That’s what heavy drugs will do to a person.
“My mom told me you got a job.” She smiles, but I can tell it’s forced. “Awesome.” She’s really not happy for me. Or maybe she’s just not happy in general.
“So your mom bailed you out?” I lean against my trunk and fold my arms over my chest. My gaze shoots to my upstairs bedroom window. I don’t see my mother, which could be a good sign. Still, I need to finish it up with Karri fast. I don’t trust that woman alone with my paints.
Karri shrugs, averting her gaze. “No. Someone else did.”
I arch a brow but don’t say anything. Who is this “someone else?” I’m afraid she probably owes a favor to one of her druggie boyfriends.
Karri chews on her lower lip, her gaze darting to me before she looks away again. “I’m going away to rehab. Maybe for several months.”
I gasp. Rehab is expensive. I fear Karri’s mom and dad will go broke, but I’m also hopefu Karri will finally straighten out. And then I worry about Tyler.
“Your mom’s going to take care of Tyler all that time?”
She shakes her head, keeping her gaze downcast. “No, that’s what I came over to tell you.” When she finally looks up at me, her eyes are glossy and red-rimmed. “I’ve been a bad friend, Christina. A really bad friend.” She sniffles and lets out a mournful sob. “I’m sorry.”
I grab Karri and pull her to me, wrapping her in a tight hug. I’m hoping to soothe her, but this makes her bawl even more. “It’s okay.” I pat her on the back like I do to Tyler whenever he’s upset. “The important thing is you are going to get professional help.”
She jerks out of my embrace. The feral look in her eyes reminds me of a wounded animal. “No! That’s not what I’m talking about.” She drags the back of her hand across her watery eyes. “Jackson’s parents bailed me out. They’re paying for my rehab.” She ends on another sob and hugs herself.
“Jackson’s parents?” I ask, feeling momentarily confused, but when the realization hits me like a brick to the head, I want so much to deny the truth. “Why them?” I rasp.
More tears flow down her face. “I just told them about Ty yesterday. They’re doing it for him. They don’t give a shit about me, but it’s free therapy, so I’ll take it.” She lets out a bitter laugh as she rolls her eyes. “I told you I was a bad friend.”
My brain is still trying to process what I’m hearing. What’s now so very obvious. “You fucked my fiancé?”
Karri bites her lip and nods. “It was the weekend you went to that sorority retreat. We met at a party. I wasn’t going to fuck him, but he promised me cocaine.”
I should be angry, but I’m disgusted more than anything. “You fucked him for drugs?”
Her shoulders and arms tremble. She’s still crying, and now her nose is running, too. I wonder if she’s genuinely upset that she hurt me, or maybe embarrassed she fucked a guy for drugs, or maybe she’s just in need of a good fix.
“He kept telling me you wouldn’t mind, since we’d already had that threesome. It was a shitty thing to do, Christina, and I’m sorry. I don’t blame you if you don’t want to be my friend.” She looks at me and winces, kind of like she’s expecting me to strike out. I can’t stand to listen to another minute of her bullshit. Pain grips my chest, squeezing my heart in a vise, but I don’t let her see how much I’m hurting. I don’t give a damn that my fiancé cheated, but it is different with Karri. Even though we’ve had our differences, I’m not expecting such a betrayal.
I march toward the house, so ready to put this life behind me.
“Where are you going?” she calls.
I don’t answer as I continue walking and slam the door.
My mom is no longer in my bedroom, so I am able to pack the rest of my stuff in peace. Well, relatively in peace, except for the dark thoughts that plague me. As I’m packing away my drawings, I come across the sketch I did of Ty. I remember how long that picture took me, and I realize now why I had such difficulty drawing his smile. Tyler has Jackson’s smile. Maybe that was my subconscious denying the truth.
I should throw this drawing away, but I can’t. Despite who his parents are, I love that baby. I clutch his image to my chest and fall to my knees, crying, as a wave of grief washes over me. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have been so blind?
I’ve trusted Karri all this time, and she’s turned out to be nothing more than a user. I’ve told Karri some of my darkest secrets, including the one about my dad.
Wait.
Realization washes over me and I shoot to my feet, tossing the portrait into the box. Karri never kept that secret about my dad. That’s why my mom stared at me with that frozen expression instead of asking me what I meant about the rape bed. She already knew!