Page 106 of Promise and Punishment

“I think it is…” I read the message on my screen.

Alejandro: I’m here, good girl… I’m ready to talk.

Chapter36

Gemma

The corner of Seventy-fourth Street and York Avenue was eerily quiet, it’s pothole-riddled street acting as a divide between ancient brick buildings and newer—more refined—condo complexes. I double checked the address Alejandro sent me before getting out of the taxi because this location didn’t seem right.

“I miss you,” he texted before giving me the address. I revisited the message again and reminded myself how hard this was going to be. Of course I wanted to say the same, but how could I? I wasn’t just mad, I wasn’t just frustrated, I was hurt. And what would I say anyways?I miss you too, Alejandro,but also, goddamn you.

I was completely unprepared to see him as I reached the dark entrance of what appeared to be an abandoned theatre. I imagined him waiting for me, brooding in the corner like some defiant usher, scowling and dark. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t even here yet, and the realization that I was alone somehow raised the anticipation of meeting him even more.

“Hello?” I called out, making my way into the poorly lit lobby, its old concession fixed with assorted candies and a glowing case of popcorn. I got no response, aside from the symphonic hums of “Pure Imagination,” that lulled with the cadence of a tin can from the speakers above.

Everything was dark, fitted with old red curtains and peeling gold pillars, its shadows like vacuums that could suck me in to the single hall that appeared below a sign that read,The Guardian Theatre.

I avoided it, ignoring its flickering incandescent bulbs as I studied a collage of fresh-faced teens that covered a wall for cast members. “Kevin David Taylor,” I read one name tag to myself. “Age fifteen, enjoys singing, his pet iguana Lizzy, and playing Tevye fromFiddler on the Roof.” I smiled at his goofy grin, his unfixed bedhead stuck in the air as if posed from a storm.

Above him, written with brass letters, was a declaration, an honorable homage to those of great financial contributions. There was just a single name that hung below in a thin, silver plaque.

I knitted my brow, studying the photo attached to the name, feeling completely confused. I knew the person listed under the donations, or at least I thought I did. I only saw their face once, but it was so vivid, so burned in my memory from the emotions I tied to it, that I could never forget them. They had long black hair, lonely almond eyes, and a freckled nose, but it was their smile that caught my attention, distinctly crooked with a crease that pulled more on the left than it did on the right.

It was Natalie Brower, only it wasn’t.

“Alma Marquez?” I read the silver plaque out loud.

“That’s my mother,” the unexpected response settled itself from across the room. I turned around to face Alejandro, who stood by the hall—no smirk, no smile—looking just as frustrated as me. He stared at the plaque and then back down in my direction, his body wrapped in a green Henley and black jeans. “Hello, Gemma.”

“Don’t say my name like that,” I warned, unappreciative of the gravitas he gave. I didn’t want him just somber, I wanted him on his knees, righting the wrongs he committed.

He didn’t like my response, his aggravation apparent with how he readjusted his strong jaw. “I say your name the only way I know how. With everything that it makes me feel.”

“And how does it make you feel?” I asked. “Let’s see if it compares to my experience. Does it feel like abandonment? Like the person you trusted just walked out of your life? No phone calls, no texts, no indication if you were safe or not. Nothing.”

“I didn’t just walk out,” he argued.

“You did! And that’s not all. You shut me out.” I stared up at him, angry with each word I spoke. I hated that I sounded like this, that I was weak and needy, and as much as I was tempted by the urge to lunge forward, to allow myself to be engulfed by his size and strength, I resisted. My overly cautious tendencies were back again, agitated by the sight of the man who worked so hard to tear them down. Did he see that now?

“Don’t be so stubborn. I couldn’t stay there and look you in the eyes with everything going on. I owed you more than that, and I’d much rather have left tofixthe problem than compromise us.” Alejandro stepped closer, only inches from me now.

“Please,” I laughed. “This was not about us.”

“Is that what you think?”

“It’s what I know,” I snipped. “You left me!”

“No. I avoided the one thing that could hurt us, Gemma.”

“And what’s that? Your fragile ego?”

“My fucking lies,” Alejandro peered down, unable to hide the effects that either I or his trip had. Whatever he’d been through, whatever he had to do, carried a taxing expression, his fang pinching his lip to the point where I thought he’d bleed. “I couldn’t say what I needed to. I couldn’t be the very thing I demanded from you, which was honesty… if I stayed, I would have continued to lie about everything. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to give you anything less than what you deserved. This was never just about you or me, this was about us, and that’s the uncomfortable truth.”

“Not for me it isn’t.” I harshly corrected, no longer accepting excuses. “You don’t get to tell me what I’m comfortable with.”

“You’re right. But I get to say when enough is enough. Any longer and the damage done would be irreversible. And maybe it already is, but I had to prepare forso muchjust to have this moment with you. Gemma, I had to do things. I had to clean a mess that not even Lina knows about.” Alejandro stood asserted, his manner far more telling and convincing than his own words.

A strand of hair fell loose as I shook my head, and while Alejandro attempted to brush it back, I stepped away, refusing him.

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