Page 28 of Wasted On Us

Nodding gratefully, I follow him. His large frame moves with a grace that belies his rough exterior. When we reach the tree, he settles down on the wooden bench beneath it, inviting me to join him.

As he breaks the silence, his gaze focuses on the setting sun. “You know, Eden, I ain’t one for meddling, but I see that worried look in your eyes, and I just wanted to tell you—it ain’t gonna be like this forever.”

I raise an eyebrow at him, a mixture of surprise and curiosity. “What do you mean?”

He shifts slightly, strumming his fingers against the weathered wood of the bench, a mimicry of his banjo playing. “Living with your folks, feeling out of place. It’s a rough patch, not your destiny. You’re a damn strong woman, and this... this is just a hiccup.”

A beat of silence stays between us, filled only by the rustling leaves and distant laughter. His words, simple and honest, strike a chord within me. Perhaps this situation isn’t as dire as I thought. Perhaps I won’t be stuck here forever.

His voice pulls me from my thoughts, a soft chuckle accompanying his words. “And in the meantime, if you ever need an escape, a place to find some peace, you’re always welcome at the bar. I promise, the music’s decent. I’ll pull up a chair for you and get you some wings.”

He pats me on the knee, and we sit there for a few more minutes in companionable silence. And with that simple conversation, Banjo offers me a sliver of hope amidst the clouds of uncertainty.

Banjo and Weston head out soon after, leaving the girls and I alone with Mom for the rest of the evening until Dad comes home. It’s only when we’re settling down on the patio for one more round of mimosas that I really notice the wall of trees on the back corner of the yard.

“Oh, those?” Mom drones with a roll of her eyes. “Your father had those put in to block out the Garcías. If he even catches a glimpse of Salvador, he loses it.”

“The Garcías?” I ask, trying to sound innocent and not choke to death on my mimosa. “You mean the guy with the car dealership commercials that run all the time during daytime TV?”

“Yep. Exactly the ones,” she sighs, taking a long swig of her drink. “If we’d had any idea they lived two houses down, we never would’ve signed on the dotted line. Probably wouldn’t have even chosen this neighborhood at all. Your father almost had a stroke when he found out they were practically our immediate neighbors. Went apoplectic.”

Oh, no. Fuck no. No to the millionth power. Salvador García lives two doors away. Mateo just told me he lives at home. And if I remember how to use the transitive property correctly, Mateo lives two doors away. I can’t escape him. No matter how hard I try, he just keeps popping up. I can’t tell if the universe thinks it’s giving me a gift or if it’s trying to teach me a lesson. The hard way. I feel like bolting from the patio and running as far as I can on foot, never to return.

Instead, I settle for a simple “Oh? Well, I’m sure glad Dad didn’t stroke out. I mean… how bad would that look if the only pharmacist in town dropped dead of something like that?”

“Why does Dad hate that guy so much?” Elowyn asks. A groan erupts from Ensley, who’s heard the story at least a million times over already.

“They both went to UMD. Were in the same classes. Hell, they even pledged the same frat. And everything your father did, Salvador could just… do it better. And it never seemed like he was trying too hard. Your father would spend all night studying for an exam, only to watch Sal waltz into class wearing his clothes from the night before, reeking of Camels and stale beer, and ace it without a thought. He would spend a whole evening chatting up a girl, only to watch her make eyes at Sal the entire time. The worst part was—it never seemed like Sal was competing back, or like he was even aware of him. It was like your father wasn’t even worth his time.”

I see the issue already. My father is the most competitive person I’ve ever known. I’ve seen him go nuclear over a game of Monopoly on more than one occasion. I think the metal ‘boot’ piece might still be lodged in the drywall back at our old house. And then there was the car incident.

“So, this is all about college stuff?” Elowyn looks disgusted at the idea that anyone could maintain so much hatred over something so simple.

Mom holds up a hand. “I’m getting there. After all of this, your father finally extends an olive branch. Tries to get over it and patch things up. After all, they’re both business owners in a smallish town. They have to see each other at Chamber of Commerce events and such. He goes to Salvador to get a car—this is right when he was starting up, you understand. Ensley was still in a booster seat, and Eden was on the way. He wanted to get something more practical. Salvador talks him into this used station wagon, five hundred dollars more than we were looking to spend. One day, I’m driving to pick up some milk and eggs, and the damn thing stalls out right in the middle of an intersection.”

This story sounds entirely too familiar, and though I know it was an honest mistake, I can see how someone could feel victimized by this sort of thing. When it comes to my dad, nothing comes before his family. He’s fiercely overprotective. I can’t even imagine what he thought when he spent all that money he didn’t have to buy a safe car for his pregnant wife and toddler to drive around in and it turned out to be a lemon.

“It wasn’t a busy street or anything, and I pulled it over just fine. But your father lost his mind. Went in there screaming and fussing about how his wife and unborn child could’ve been killed. And maybe it was an exaggeration, but the real kicker was that Salvador refused to refund him a single cent. Wouldn’t pay for the repairs. Wouldn’t offer a replacement. Nothing. Something about a lemon law, and being over ninety days, yada yada yada. When it comes to something like that, who talks about legalities? It was aboutemotions. And doing what’s right for an old friend who lives in the same town.”

It’s the first time all day that we’ve been quiet, the four of us staring into our drinks as if they hold the answers to all of life’s questions. I can’t even bring myself to look at Ensley, as if doing so will announce my guilt to the whole world. I feel terrible that I’ve made her complicit in all of this.

Despite the tale of family conflict, my mind keeps circling back to one point. Mateo. Despite everything, the feuds, the whispers, the silent disapproval lurking right around the corner, I can’t shake him. It’s as if he’s a magnet and I’m inexorably drawn toward him, a compass always pointing in his direction.

Every time I see him, I tell myself it’s the last time, that I’ll push past this, that I’ll let the family feud define our relationship. But then he smiles, his eyes light up when he sees me, and all those rational thoughts dissolve. Every look, every touch, reminds me that what I feel for Mateo isn’t something that can be pushed aside or ignored.

Because I’ve never felt it before. Not even close.

He’s in my thoughts when I wake, and the last thing I think about before I sleep. He’s woven himself into my dreams and my daydreams. Every stolen moment with him feels like an act of rebellion, and yet, they’re moments I wouldn’t trade for anything.

I want to please my parents, want to respect my dad’s feelings, but how do you stay away from a man who feels like the only right thing in a world full of wrong? How do I distance myself from the one person who truly gets me, who sees me for who I really am, not just as a woman with ADHD, but as Eden? I realize then, with a heavy heart, that I can’t. I just can't stay away from Mateo, no matter how much I should.

I deserve a shot at happiness.

“That’s such a shame,” Elowyn mumbles, sounding more than a little tipsy. “His son is so good-looking in all of the commercials, and he lives right beyond that fortress of trees.”

It’s a miracle that I don’t scream right then and there.

“That’s not funny, not even a little bit. I don’t care if the man looks like a copy of Henry Cavill, all of you stay away from him. His father isn’t right in the head, and the apple never falls that far from the tree. There are millions of men on this earth. I better not catch a single one of you even looking at the only guy who happens to be the son of your father’s arch nemesis.”

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