Page 2 of The Crush
Right along with the rest of me that is now very much grown up.
“How have you been?” Daniel asks as he heads for the kitchen, seemingly oblivious to the near crisis I’m continuing to have in his entryway. “Family okay?”
Shocked as I am to see him, I am trulystunnedmy mother failed to mention his homecoming at any point, including before she’d shoved me out the door this evening.
Was it possible she didn’t know? Another anomaly, since people usually can’t so much as whisper in this town without Eva Rivera hearing every word.
“They’re good,” I tell him, blessedly learning how to speak full sentences again somewhere between the living room’s shag carpetand the terracotta kitchen tiles. “When, um, when did you get back?”
“Came home about a week ago.” He pops the dish into the sparse fridge before he turns back to me. “Been meaning to come by.”
“It’s fine,” I reassure him quickly, unable to help myself from asking, “How long are you staying?”
“Until I die, I suppose.”
The alarm must show on my face, in the way I rapidly search him up and down for a previously missed injury or ailment, because he huffs out a near-laugh as he leans back against the counter. “No need to make arrangements. I’m just not with the DEA anymore.”
“Oh.” Again, I’m not sure what else to say. If I should offer congratulations or condolences even if all I feel is a profound sense of relief. “What made you—”
“I think Pop told me you recently moved home yourself?” he interrupts, effectively closing off the subject without leaving room to wonder if that was his intention. “Back from school?”
I nod, feeling myself looking him over again. Searching for a sign of…something. When he tilts his head to study me in return, I remember that he’d asked me a question. “Yeah, back from school. I was in San Antonio getting my business degree. Wasn’t really my first choice of subject, but…” This time, I cut myself off, hoping it didn’t seem like I was complaining since it was a miracle I was allowed to go at all. “I graduated on Sunday.”
Daniel gives me a half-smile, an accompanying nod of approval that makes my blood positivelysinguntil— “That’s great, kid.”
Kid.Stillkid. If he hadkickedme, it would have been less painful than the reminder that Daniel Ríos will never see me as anything morethan a snot-nosedkid. Devastating, even if somewhat understandable. Heistwelve years older than me, but there’s also nothing quite so trivial as reality when it comes to a long-lasting and unrequited crush.
“I’m actually—” I start to say, raising my chin and giving him what I pray is a pretty and mature smile. “You know, you left a really long time ago.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, his strong jaw clenches, his arms subtly tightening over his chest before he manages to school his expression back to something more neutral. “Yeah. Keep hearing that.”
I feel my face heat, certain that I’ve struck an unexpected nerve. “It was worth it though, right? You’ve done so much. I—everyone—has been so proud of you.”
Daniel nods stiffly, far more of an acknowledgement than an agreement. “Keep hearing that, too.”
When he looks toward the patio door, he misses the involuntary step I take in his direction as he straightens and pushes away from the counter. “Well, I’d better get back. I’ll let the old man know you’re here. Good to see you.” He gives me a passing glance on his way out, one that I know from experience I’ll feel for years.
“Good to see you,” I repeat, listening to the door close behind him while I remain standing in the kitchen alone. Not exactly the ending I’d pictured all those times I’d thought of what it might be like to see him again.
Not even close.
Two
Daniel
Saturday, May 22, 1994
All that time, and this is all you have to show for it…
I sit at the desk in my room, my window open to my right and a pile of still-packed moving boxes to my left. None of their contents enough to distract me from the newspapers in front of me, each headline more damning than the last, though one in particular has me reading over and over:
RID OF RIVALS, FLUSH WITH CASH,
COLOMBIAN COCAINE CARTEL BOOSTS BUSINESS
Rid of rivals.Is that all we’d done? Cut off the head of one monster so that five more could grow? All those people, all those things I’d seen, all those places I’d gone thinking I could make things better…
The edges ofThe Washington Postcrease as my grip on the paper tightens, and I skim the article again, looking for information I won’t find. For things I’m no longer privy to since the day I left Colombia. Twelve years in the DEA. Eight years on assignment.All over in a matter of hours. And now…Fuck, what am I supposed to do now?
