Page 87 of The Crush
“Enough forme?” He’s starting to shout now, still not even remotely heeding my mom at his arm. “What about for you? This is the man you want to share your life with? Someone who chose to surround himself with drugs and violence? Withdeath? Let him go back there and not curse you with it. It’s better.”
Better.That’s what Daniel had said too.It’s better.
“Itwasyou,” I say quietly, but I know every single person in the house still hears me. Just as I know I’m right from the way his eyes widen the tiniest bit, shock on a man who isn’t used to having accusations thrown his way. Least of all by me.
“What did you say to him?”
“Aarón, you didn’t,” my mom says, pivoting to look at him. “Tell me you didn’t say something to that boy.”
My father’s mouth presses into a thin line, as if not sure what else could give him away. “All I did was talk to him,” he says eventually. “Try to get him to see reason.”
“What did you say?” I repeat.
My father looks between my mom and me, then at my brothers. But none of them, not even Aarón, move to his side thistime.
“Aarón,” my mom says, her voice so low it sounds truly dangerous. “If you said something to Danny to make him go back to thathell, I will never forgive you.”
He looks at her, drawing in a breath before he starts, “I had to—”
“He’s María’sson,” she yells at him, her voice breaking on her best friend’s name. “Ipromisedher I would watch out for him.”
“And what about watching out forours?” he says back. “What about our promises to look out for them? It was bad enough her going to that school. Spending time with those friends. They were bad influences on her. I’m only trying to do what’s best.”
“For you or for her?”
“Eva, I’m only trying to make sure our children have a happy life.”
“Really?” My mamá throws an arm out, gesturing to all four of us. “Doanyof our children look particularly happy to you?”
He searches all our faces again, and I don’t need to look, too, to know the answers he’s finding. “Eva…”
My mamá is already turning her back on him, grabbing my hand and leading me out the front door. Tadeo gets out of his truck the second he sees us coming, moving closer the farther my father pursues us into the yard, a question on his face as we pass by that I don’t even think twice about answering.
“It was him,” I tell Tadeo as I climb into the passenger side of his truck. “He said something to Danny.”
A few moments later as Tadeo backs down the drive, I keep an eye on the house long enough to see my mamá head back inside and close the front door, leaving my father sitting on the steps alone.
And although there are not many positive things I can say about my eldest brother, I have to admit, he gets up a lot faster than our father does after receiving a well-placed punch to the face.
The DEA
I was up too late dreaming. Flashlight under the covers and pages turning under my thumbs. So many stories from so many voices. Cast out into the wide world and landing in my tiny one. They made me feel less alone, less different for wanting a different kind of life than the one I was born into, less selfish for wanting to see things for myself.
I ran for the bus with messy brown curls that I tried to flatten with my palms, hastily tucking in my shirt at the bus stop with my brown bag lunch between my teeth. Passed to me from my mamá‘s hand with a hurried kiss to my forehead as my papá held the door open and told me I better—
Go.
I was up too late studying. Textbooks on the table, a graphite pencil in my hand, Johnny Cash on the radio as my mamá leaned against the counter and quizzed me for my final exams. Every time I got one right she smiled. Every time I got one wrong she simply told me to try again.
I ran for my truck on move-in day as if college wouldn’t wait for me, as if graduating at seventeen didn’t already get me there fast enough. My mamá held my face in my hands and cried before I drove away, my papá told me to make sure to write as he kepthis eyes hidden beneath the brim of his hat. I was the first one to go away to school even if I didn’t go far. The first one to call home that night, just to hear their voices before my roommate shouted my name, and I told them I better—
Go.
I was up too late driving. Police badge on my belt and dispatch crackling on Halloween night. Trying to keep the local youth from doing all the things I’d already done, trying to get them to leave themselves and the town in one piece. A graveyard shift for the newly minted rookie who decided the best place to cut his teeth would be the same place he grew them, who would never admit that he left only to want to come back home.
I ran for my squad car in the morning like I used to run for the bus, a quick shower between an even quicker change from my chore clothes to my uniform. My mamá never let me leave without a prayer to San Miguel, my papá yelled after me to wear my vest. I waved a hand out the window before I drove away, dry dirt and dust kicking up in my tires’ wake. I wanted to feel like I was doingsomething, wanted to feel like I was leaving some sort of mark. My eyes landed on the clock on my dash, and I knew I really better—
Go.
