Preston's Honor(20)

“Thank you, Preston.” For being my friend once, for giving me my first dance, for watching over me. It was all I had. It would have to be enough.

He paused for the breath of a moment and then his lips tipped up slightly, too, looking more like a strange grimace in the dim light of his truck. “Goodnight, Lia,” he said.

I paused for a second, waiting—hoping—he might say more, but he didn’t, so I grabbed my laundry bag and hopped down, shutting his door behind me and walking quickly inside, not looking back.

I didn’t hear his truck pull away until after I’d shut the door of my house behind me. My mama was already sleeping. I dropped the laundry bag on the floor and curled up on my air mattress.

“Annalia.” My mama’s voice drifted to me from the other side of the room, though she was turned toward the wall.

“Yes, Mama?”

“You don’t open your legs for the boys.” She spoke in broken English and I wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it had something to do with Preston coming by. Maybe it was the first time she realized I lived in two worlds—one in Spanish, and one in English. Perhaps she was trying to relate to me in the world that she was warning me about. Whatever it was, it embarrassed me, and I felt heat rise in my face.

My mama had never talked to me about boys. For a second I almost sat up, desperate to ask her all the questions I wanted answers to so badly. But the words stuck in my throat as so many of my words did. I didn’t know how to start, not with my mama, and so I relaxed my muscles, sinking back down onto my bed. “No, Mama.”

She paused for a second before she spoke again. “Rich boy only want one thing from nobody girl.”

Nobody girl. There wasn’t malice in her tone, just weariness. Her words, as usual, had been harsh, and I wondered if there had been something lost in translation. The few times she’d attempted to speak English to me, she’d chosen words that weren’t exactly what she meant.

I wished she’d spoken in Spanish so I could have understood her better. Because long into the night the words—misused as they might have been—still echoed in my head:

Nobody girl.

Nobody girl.

Nobody girl.

Me.

**********

The beginning of that summer was unbearably hot. A month after school ended, I got a job working evenings as a hostess at the IHOP in town. Working nights allowed me to continue helping my mama at the motel.

Though it wasn’t much, the extra income allowed me to buy a few new summer clothes—ones I desperately needed—and help put some more decent food on the table.

I was happy to be busy, and relieved to be helping around the house. And I was also thankful to be so tired every day that I barely had the strength to miss Preston.

Both boys were working on their family farm that last summer and would leave in August for college on the East Coast. My heart pinched whenever I thought about it, even though I hadn’t seen Cole since school ended and hadn’t seen Preston since that night when we’d danced under the lights of the Laundromat.

Just the thought of them being so far away caused grief to well up in my throat. They’d been a constant in my world, seemingly all my life. I couldn’t remember a time when their twin smiles hadn’t been waiting for me right up the road, even if I went months and months without seeing them.

Cole surprised me one evening as I was leaving work. I laughed when he stepped in front of me, grinning and almost causing me to trip over my own feet.

“Hi,” I breathed, joy rising within at his familiar face. “What are you doing here?”

He grinned. “One of my friends mentioned he saw you working here.”

I nodded. “Just for a month now.”

“I’ve missed you. You’re a hard person to pin down, Annalia Del Valle.”

I laughed softly. “Right, because so many are trying . . . to . . . pin me down.”

“I am. I’m trying to pin you down.” His eyes were searching and I looked away on a laugh, feeling slightly awkward.

“I thought we’d see more of each other this year with going to the same school, but we really didn’t, did we?”

I shrugged, knowing it was my fault. I’d avoided them there. And the bedbug incident, as I referred to it now in my mind, had been proof that I’d been right to do so. “You were seniors this year. I was just a freshman. Our paths just didn’t cross much.”

He smiled. “Hmm. Well, here we are tonight, our paths crossing. I thought you might need an escort home.”

Nerves prickled. Preston had seen my house, and I hadn’t liked it. I didn’t want to repeat the experience with Cole. I turned back toward the door when I heard Cathy—my coworker and the girl who usually gave me a lift home—exiting behind me. “I’ve got an escort tonight, Cathy.”

Cathy grinned and waved as she turned in the direction of her car. I turned back to Cole. “Where’s your truck?”

“Preston has it tonight.”

I cleared my throat, refusing to think about where Preston might be. Or namely who Preston might be with. I nodded. “You can walk me to my turnoff.”

His eyes lingered on me for a moment but then he nodded. “All right.” We walked in silence for a few minutes before he asked, “Are you really okay? After what—”

“I’m fine.” My cheeks colored and I was glad for the dim outside lighting. I didn’t want to talk about the incident—it still mortified me.