Page 22 of He Loves Me Not

Rubi: Why, miss me?

Cesar: I’ll always miss you, Rubi.

Rubi: Soon. I miss dancing with you and hanging out.

We used to dance together. Hip-hop, mostly. Cesar came from Puerto Rico. His mother ditched him when he was fourteen and went back to Puerto Rico supposedly. That was the story they told him, at least. His father was running with gangs over there and was shot and killed, leaving his mother to take care of him. I guess she couldn’t handle Cesar. He is intense. But he was always sweet toward me and told me never to give up. That I was better than those people. Better than my mother and the father who didn’t bother looking for me.

I freshen up and make my way downstairs, tucking my phone inside the front pockets of my hoodie. I’m glad I memorized Cesar’s number when he left. He said he would never change it. That I could call him if I was ever in trouble. It’s too bad he hangs around drug dealers and other kids who have no way out. I worry about Cesar sometimes. I know it is only a matter of time before he ends up in jail…or worse, dead.

“Ready?” Mr. Murray says, seated at the dining table and nursing his cup of morning joe.

“Yeah.”

He gets up and makes his way around the dining table, picking up his keys in the side table by the front door.

He gives me a small smile. “Let’s go.”

After shopping at the local drugstore, I notice a pet store advertising free pet adoptions for cats. There’s a black and white cat pawing at the glass next to the sign. I bend slightly and place my hand on the glass like I am giving him a high five.I know, little dude. I understand your pain.Unwanted. I would love to have a pet. I never had one of my own. I did have an alley cat I nicknamed Mo because I liked it even though he was orange and reminded me of the cat inPuss in Boots. He would wait until I came home from school to see if I could find him something to eat, or give him a rub on his dirty fur. It was better to be greeted by the dirty cat that most likely had fleas than the putrid smell of burning meth, cigarettes, and the dirty home that greeted me every day I would go inside.

My stepfather saw me pet it one day and I never saw it again.

I knew the real reason. It was my fault for petting it. I cried all week over Mo, wondering where he went. I hated my stepfather even more after that. I knew that day moving forward to never show him I liked something, or he would make me pay by taking it away.

“Do you like him?”

I look up at Stephen, afraid to answer. I want to say yes, but I know what happens when I like something. It always gets taken away, or I have to give it up. I stay silent, straightening my hoodie. Looking between him and the window at the young cat meowing and rubbing itself against the glass. Hoping.

I rub my lips together and look at my dirty sneakers, and then tilting my head to glance up at Stephen, he knows. Yeah, I like him. It’s obvious, but he wants me to say it. He wants me to admit I like the cat. But what will he do if I say yes? I guess there is only one way to find out. The cat is safe inside the store. What would my biological father do if I liked or showed interest in something? He looks at the window, and then at the front door of the pet store, and back to me.

I guess I’m about to find out.

Rubi

I WATCH ASthe black and white cat purrs as I pet it while it’s laying on the bed. I sit and he nudges his head and flips over on his back so I can rub his belly. I named him Hope.

Stephen was excited I wanted him to adopt the cat for me. If he only knew it was the first time someone got me something that I actually wanted, he’d be even more excited. I didn’t know how I would be able to buy food or pay for his annual check-up in the future, but I was about to turn eighteen and would figure it out. The actual cat didn’t cost Stephen anything to adopt except for the litterbox, food, water bowl, and kitty litter. The store gave away a free bag of food when you adopted a cat.

I couldn’t hide the smile on my face when they handed me the cardboard box carrier that had I’M GOING HOME WITH MY NEW FAMILY written all over it. It felt good, and it made me look at Stephen in a new light. I know he was trying to have a relationship with me by being nice, taking me shopping and spending time with me, but how could you erase all the time he was absent. How do I forget the part that he moved on and didn’t look for me when he knew there was a child he created somewhere. If the court hadn’t sent him a letter because my mother listed him on the birth certificate, would I be here? Would I have met him? Deep down I know the answer. But is there room for forgiveness for past mistakes?

After playing with the cat and setting up his food bowl in the en-suite bathroom where I also placed his litter box, my stomach was protesting in hunger, and I realized I haven’t had anything to eat except for a bag of potato chips and a bottle of water from the drug store. I put away the items Stephen purchased, as well as the new Converse sneakers he insisted I let him buy for me. He said it was for school, and the pair I was wearing was in violation of the school uniform, so I gave in. It’s funny to think the first clothes I have ever worn that weren’t second-hand or worn by someone else would be a private school uniform. Now I have new Converse sneakers to add to the list. I didn’t care that that uppity bitch Nicole and her friend Jen made fun of me. I’m used to it. It’s part of the charm of being in the social services club and they can both fuck right off.

I can hear male voices coming from downstairs but I can’t take the hunger pangs in my stomach anymore. When you don’t have food on a regular basis, your body acclimates and stores what it has to, and you get used to eating when you can, but when you eat food three times a day, after a few days, your body screams for food. Like right now, I’m starving.

I place a kiss on Hope’s furry head and make sure I put away anything he can’t get into. I close the door behind me to keep Hope from sneaking out and getting lost in a new environment, especially a house of this size. I make sure the door is closed by double-checking the handle and smile to myself as I make my way down the staircase. I have a pet and it sort of makes everything a little better. I won’t feel alone in my room.

My smile falters when I see into the family room through the arch that divides the massive open concept of the house. Ky is leaning back, stretching his arms and smiling at something Tyler said. He is so tall, and his arms are wide and muscular. He overpowers the off-white-colored sofa. Actually, he overpowers everything.

What is he doing here?

Since I have been here, I haven’t seen him hang out here with Tyler and the other guys the house. My eyes dart over to the other sofas and see that Chris is seated with two other guys I have seen at school who are players on the football team. I have also seen them sitting at their lunch table, and I know one then is named Conner. The starting quarterback on the football team and the one who threw the party last weekend.

My foot meets the floor with a thud after taking the last step, and Ky turns his head toward me, his smile fading, his midnight eyes watching my every move as my feet shuffle in my new sneakers toward them. I don’t notice if the others see me approaching because our eyes are locked on each other. It’s like I’m transported back to the time when we would meet on the edge of his backyard, reminding me telling him Pizza Hut. My stomach recoils at the thought of eating it. It is the only pizza that I have tried that I don’t like.

I would eat it if I didn’t have anything else to eat, of course, but the memory of our heated debate about the best-tasting pizza when we were kids play in my mind like a movie.

“Pizza Hut sucks,” I say, making a face and sticking out my tongue. “I heard it’s not really pizza, but just some baked bread with cheese.”

“Oh yeah, how would you know.”

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