Page 42 of The Crush
I grin but make no promises.
By the time I get back home, the sun is fully up, and I sink down on the front porch stairs, pausing for a few minutes to formulate an excuse for why I’m so late for morningchores.
Oddly, it’s a relief when the front door creaks open a moment later, my dad’s familiar stride making its way over before he sits down beside me.
“Cutting it a bit close this morning, aren’t you?”
I prop my elbows on my knees and drop my head into my hands. “How long have you known?”
“Since the kitchen, mijo. And before you ask, yes, I know you’ve been sneaking her in practically every night. The least you could do is have her park in a different spot. She’s killing my grass behind that barn.”
I drag my hands down my face and turn to look at him, surprised to see humor in his face. “Whydidn’t you say anything?”
“Why didn’t you?”
We sit in companionable silence for a while, and as usual, my dad is the first to break it. “I didn’t say anything because when you started seeing her, you stopped spending every night staring at a whiskey bottle.”
I nod, accepting the truth of that, but it takes me a few more minutes before I offer, “I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking of how to tell you, but I didn’t want you to get caught up in it if things…go bad. I didn’t want you to have to deal with it.”
“Does it ever occur to you that Iwantto deal with it? That it’s actually worse for me to watch you struggle with things alone?” My dad sighs. “Just tell me one thing. Do you know what you’re doing? With her?”
“No,” I admit, laughing slightly at myself and staring out at nothing in particular. “But I know I can’t do it without her.”
“What?”
I think of Isabel. The night she pressed herself against my back, arms wrapped around me and palms on my chest, her steady presence pulling me back from the edge.
“Breathe.”
Thirty-Three
Isabel
Sunday, October 9, 1994
Best behavior.I’m certain those are the words I used. Although apparently their interpretation is up for debate.
I can’t believe he’s doing this to me. The absolute nerve. Walking into church with his father. Smiling like the devil. Wearing thattie.
I know it’s the same one because not only would I recognize it amongst fifty others, but when he sees my eyes drop quickly to it as he walks up the aisle, he actuallywinksat me while he straightens the knot.
How am I supposed to act like nothing is going on, like we’re simply old family friends getting to know each other again, when I’m thinking of how much I’d like to bite him?
“And there’s the messiah.” My attention snaps from Daniel as I turn to glare at Aarón, smirking from his seat between my father and me. Fortunately, my mother also seems to have had enough for once as she leans over to shush him from my father’s other side.
“I’m only trying to figure out why everyone is so fascinated,” Aarón continues, speaking over me to Eli and continuing to ignoreour mother’s dirty look. “You heard him. He didn’t even work on Escobar.”
Thatwouldbe a hang-up for Aarón. If you’re not holding the biggest trophy at the end then what else matters?
“And yet everyone is falling all over themselves to shake his hand. Look,” Aarón says with disgust. I follow his line of sight to see that Daniel has settled into his pew and is indeed being bombarded by people on all sides. Likely miserable.
“I mean, how do we even know he didanythingfor the DEA? Could’ve been one big vacation for him.”
I stare at the prayer books and wonder if they’re heavy enough to cause a concussion, mild enough that I won’t have murdered someone in a church but severe enough that Aarón will shut the fuck up.
“Pretty sure there’s still a drug problem.” Aarón mutters, and I still almost manage to keep it bottled up until I notice my father is nodding along with him.How is this ever going to work if Aarón is constantly being…himself?
“You really don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say to him, knowing there’s unchecked emotion in my voice but unable to stop it. “Peopleshouldbe proud of Danny. At least he’s done something with his life.”
