Page 62 of Unspoken Promises

“I don’t know much about art but I’d say even though the theme isn’t necessarily getting into the MoMa, the quality is there.” She holds the painting in front of her and tilts her head. Her hair cascades down her bare arm. “I’ll take this one. And hang it at the end of my bed.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

Her lightness of being is part of why this woman has a glowing aura about her. How does she do it? I know she’s been through something traumatic, hell, she’s still going through it.

“I need to tell you something.” My words hardly come out, they’re so quiet it’s like my mouth hasn’t quite caught up with the idea of confessing something so personal, but I have to. If not for me, then for the sake of the hacks. I can’t be the reason she fails. I can’t be the reason she can’t prove herself and I finally get to know how I can protect her in return.

Ava wants to stay here. She wants to prove her worth. And me keeping my past in the past is exactly what would stop her from getting what she wants. I’ve never spoken about this out loud with anyone. I was paralyzed after it happened, and it took a number of years afterward to finally find a therapist.

My mouth goes dry; my tongue is sandpaper.

She puts the painting down and sets an attentive gaze on me.

The thought of confiding in her makes it hard to even stand. It’s both because I haven’t told this story in full to anyone but the police at the time, my therapist, and God. I know Ava is compassionate, it’s clear in how intently she listens to people, how inclusive she is. But will this change how she looks at me? Will she think I’m damaged? Or worse, irredeemable?

As if reading my state perfectly, she heads out of the room and toward the cinema. “Come on. Let’s sit.”

She throws her body into the corner of one of the loveseats, and when she bends her knee up onto the cushion, her shorts ride up ever farther, showing that toned thigh of hers. She pats the cushion next to her.

I sit and mirror her position so we face each other. The weight of uncertainty and apprehension bears down on me. I’m only telling Ava something she could eventually discover herself. But through my words, this isn’t just some newspaper article in the archives in black and white. It’s a vivid, living memory that drives my every action. It’s the moment my life’s purpose was created. And it’s why I know there’s evil lurking on every doorstep just waiting to fuck things up.

“You know I didn’t tell you about the hacks because we don’t want it to go public and risk investment.”

“I get it. You have my word it won’t get out.”

“But…” my pulse quickens, “that’s not the only reason I didn’t want to talk about it with you.”

She lifts her eyebrows.

“I used to have family in Ensenada.”

Used to. Tiny daggers slice through my lungs thinking ofused to. I take a deep breath.

“When I was in my teens, our parents sent us boys to stay one summer with relatives in Mexico, where my parents lived before immigrating. Dad inherited his uncle’s ranch in New Mexico. My parents had a shotgun wedding and moved to the States when they were nineteen. But like many living away from their culture, it’s important to pass down language, customs… they wanted us to understand our roots.”

I can still smell how different the air was in Ensenada. I grew up in a landlocked state so the change was remarkable. The sea was fresh and invigorating just as the mountains were, but so different.

“We had cousins there, and one the same age as me and Rio. We were fourteen at the time.”

My cousin’s huge smile enters my mind along with the worn t-shirt that had Bill Gates’ mugshot on it from when he ran a stop sign. My cousin was full of life. Full of hope and humor.

“His name was Diego.”

Powerful guilt creeps around me like ancient vines and grip my lungs. This is why I don’t talk about it. It hurts too much. But Ava’s warm, amber gaze keeps me talking.

“They didn’t send our sister because our parents knew it was not the safest place. We were older than her… from the minute we arrived, I knew we weren’t in Starlight Canyon anymore. There were lots of rules and places you shouldn’t go, people you shouldn’t talk to, things you shouldn’t wear. On so many levels my parents were right to send us there and learn that not everywhere in the world is the same as the States. It opened our eyes, made us more grateful. I guess Mom and Dad wanted to force some appreciation.”

That trip forced me to do a lot of things—namely grow up mighty fast.

“At first, I was really careful and cautious, but as time went on, I got used to the way it was down there and grew in confidence and familiarity.”

I drop my chin.

I got too comfortable.

I swallow shame down with a large stone in my throat. “Santi, Gabriel, and Rio liked driving out to the vineyards to work with our aunt and uncle. But I became really close with Diego who kept the convenience store they owned open in the neighborhood for his parents. There we talked all day about nerdy shit. There were very few customers… for me, Diego was a kindred spirit. Back home it was all horses and bulls and roping. Don’t get me wrong, that’s my thing, too, but it was the first time I really hung out with a guy my age who liked computers and coding. He was a really smart guy.”

A humorless laugh leaves my lips. “That summer, we came up with an idea for a business together and we were going to be like Batman. Using tech to fight evil. I even thought about moving down there after high school and not going to college.”

My eyebrows knit together, and I bite down on the rising emotion. “Diego told me never to open the door to the shop for anyone after five p.m.” My throat is thick, and I have to clear it. “My cousin went to the bathroom and asked me to lock up. It was four fifty-eight. A man came to the door, maybe he was in his early twenties. He didn’t look dangerous when he asked to come in as I was about to lock up. He said his grandma was diabetic and needed juice…”

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