The You I've Never Known(16)

You girls have fun, he says. I’m going out for a couple of beers with Zelda.

I’ll pick you up after the show.

Excellent! He’s not mad at Zelda after all. “You have your phone, right? In case I need to remind you.”

Aw, come on. I only forgot you one or two times. More like a dozen over the years, but why argue?





I Pick a Horror Flick


About a girl who gets called to babysit for strangers, clueless that the adorable little boy’s in serious need of an exorcism.

Of course the house is at the end of a road in an unpopulated area, surrounded by dark, scary woods, and when she finally finds enough sense to run, she discovers the giant creepster trees could use the help of a good priest, too. It’s one of those movies where you’re expecting stuff to happen, but when it does it makes you jump anyway.

We sit way in the back, with no one behind to bother us, and during a particularly tense scene, Monica snakes her fingers into mine, pulls my hand against the taut muscles of her belly. Beneath her shirt, her body is warm, and the connection is comforting, and this feels so right it makes me sigh contentment. At the sound, she unknots our fingers, allowing hers to softly explore the skin on the back of my hand. Back and forth they travel, inviting mine to reciprocate. And just as I do, the kid on screen grabs hold of his babysitter’s foot and starts to drag her backward toward the leering house and our hands fly up in response, and after we scream

we both bust up at our over-the-top

reaction. I believe that’s what people call a mood breaker, and I’m fine with it because I’ve got no idea what to do with what just happened between us. Every small movement was saturated with

importance. But what does that mean?

Another question looms even larger.

Where, oh where, do we go from here?





To Start With


We go home.

Dad’s even out front close to on time, no reminder necessary.

It surprises me,

but what doesn’t is the smell inside the car, which just about knocks me over. Amazing

how much beer he

must’ve consumed

in the last couple of hours.

He looks a little

unsteady, and Monica seems unsure, so I offer, “Hey, Dad. Want me to drive?”

Hells to the no.

If you messed up and your friend got hurt, I’d be held liable.

Flawed logic.

Just who’d be held

liable if he messed up while driving a little tipsy?

Tipsy or not, he’s not changing

his mind, so I sit in back, wishing Monica and I could hold hands

or maybe attempt

something more. Now I wonder if she’s ever tried something more,

and if so, with whom.

We’ve never discussed it, for whatever reasons, but since I’ve lived here,

she hasn’t been with anyone else, at least not that I’m aware of. I do know she’s not out to

her family. No, she said when I asked. Mis padres wouldn’t understand, or accept.

Yet she accepts

herself just as she is, doesn’t try to hide from the truth of who she is inside.





I Want to Be


That sure of the truth of me.

I feel like I’m teetering on the edge

of semi-certainty,

which is pretty

much meaningless.

But I’ve got lots of time to figure it out, so for now I’ll resign myself

to enjoying the research.

When Dad pulls up in front of Monica’s house,

I jump out to claim shotgun.

Totally aware of spying

eyes nearby, Monica and I exchange an awkward good-bye.

“Thanks for the card.”

I wink. “Let’s do something stupid together soon.”

Monica smiles. How stupid can we get? You better think about that. Happy birthday, novia. She turns and motors on up the walk, calling over her shoulder, See you ma?ana.





In the Car


Dad’s singing along

with Garth Brooks.

His voice carries a hint of the twang that has almost disappeared with time

and distance from his home state.

When he starts a slow cruise, I ask, “Do you ever miss Oklahoma?”

He keeps humming

for a second or two, but

finally answers, Not much.

I left a lot of bad behind there. Nothing in Oklahoma but pain and worry, and that includes your grandparents.

Boom. He never talks

about Pops and Ma-maw—

that’s what they insisted I call them. “Do you ever hear from them?” I’m not aware of any communication.

His hands tense

on the steering wheel,

and his jaw juts forward.

Every once in a while.

Look, Air, there’s no love lost between them and me.

Not sure that’s true.

Ma-maw griped about Dad, but affectionately, at least from what I can remember.

It’s been a long while

since I’ve seen her.

“What about . . .”

I don’t know if I’m allowed to ask. Ah, why not?

“What about your brother?

I mean, don’t you want

to stay in touch