Page 37 of Scoreless Nights

“For what?”

“For not calling me out. I saw the recognition in your eyes fade when you realized I didn’t want them knowing I knew you. You played the part, and just…thank you. I promise I’m not ashamed of you,” I laughed, “but I’ve lived in your shadow long enough.”

“What?” He sat up and set his wine down, so I set mine down as well and turned in my chair so I was facing him. “Why would you say that?”

“Because it's true?” I laughed again, only to realize he wasn’t laughing with me. He was seriously confused.

“How did you live in my shadow when I didn’t even live with you?”

“Oh come on.” I threw my hands in the air and shook my head. “All your dad did was tell everyone what a great soccer player you were. My mom was just as bad. You may not have been there, but I lived with you.”

“What about you?” He was no longer relaxed. His feet were on the ground, his legs bouncing, and his hands were holding on tight to the edge of the lounger. “Always the princess. I couldn’t even call to talk to my dad without him mentioning how special you were. It was like he married your mom and adopted you as his very own princess.”

“Princess?” I would have stood in shock, but there wasn’t enough room between the loungers with his legs taking up the foot and a half of space between us. “You mean overprotected? Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful for Ivan being in my life, but he wasn’t my dad and I wasn’t his little princess. He served my mother, and ever since…” I trailed off, not sure I wanted to finish my thought.

“Ever since what?”

Popping my jaw, a nervous tick I had picked up when I was younger, I started running my fingers along a small scar on my leg that I got when I fell off my bike. “Um…”

“You’re doing that thing,” Cruz pointed. “Your jaw and the way you rub that scar. Just talk to me.”

“Ever since my dad died,” I blurted, skimming right over how he had picked up on my tells and remembered them after all the time that had passed.

“You think your mom was overprotective because your dad died?”

I shrugged, knowing the answer, and not wanting to say it. “Can we talk about something else?”

“No,” he huffed and laid back on his lounger. “I cannot believe you thought you lived in my shadow when in reality, I lived in yours.”

“Maybe our realities were just different. Doesn’t make either one of us wrong.”

“Sometimes it felt like my dad found a replacement kid.”

“No,” I shook my head adamantly as a tear found its way down my cheek. “All he did was brag on you. Both of them did. ‘Cruz is varsity’ or ‘My son got a scholarship.’ The day you signed with Miami I had to drive home from college just to attend your celebration dinner.”

“I didn’t have a celebration dinner.”

“I know!” I shouted, hoping he saw the irony. “You weren’t there! But I was. Mom and Ivan took me to a local restaurant where they could brag on you as people passed our table to say hello. They were proud, Cruz, don’t get me wrong. It was boastful in a way that I knew they were just so dang proud of you. But it made me feel like I was always going to be second rate. The girl who took six years to graduate with a four year degree. The girl who loved to draw but never drew anything worthy enough to be considered an artist.”

The tears were streaming down my face in full force, and Cruz had moved to my lounger as I rambled. He pulled me closer to him, and held me against his chest as I cried my truth.

“I had no idea,” he whispered.

“It's not your fault.” I sniffed. “You gave them a lot of reasons to be proud. I just wish I could do the same.”

“What about being here? Getting your dream job? They are proud of you.”

“They are,” I nodded against his t shirt, thankful that it absorbed my tears. “I know they are. But I have to call home three times a day. I’ve never had real friends. I’ve never even…”

I stopped again, definitely not admitting to him that I had never even had sex. But of course, Cruz didn’t let anything go.

“Never even…” he pulled me back so I was forced to look at his face. He reminded me of his dad, the way he beaded his eyes at me as he waited for my confession. Ivan would never punish me, he let my mom do that, but he would make me confess to him when I was in trouble. It had been his way of helping us both, because he took the news, and then eased it to my mom carefully instead of her being hit over the head with bad news. Not that I did much wrong, but even the small things were serious to Gloria Martin.

“I’ve never had a relationship.”

“Like a boyfriend?”

“Like…um…anything.” The way his eyes widened made me start to back away but he pulled me back against him and held me tight enough that I couldn’t move. He didn’t speak, just processed my words while trying to soothe me.

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