Some nights, p.14
Some Nights, page 14
I walk us to the couch and sit. She pulls her mouth from mine as if she senses something’s changed. I look into the million questions floating in her eyes.
“Your mother was right.”
She pfffts. “Said no one ever.” But her face sobers up and she takes my face in her hands. “She’s wrong. All she cares is about is money, appearances, and what people say.”
“She’s not wrong about how little I make compared to you. I’ve always known you make more than me but I’ve never cared because—”
“It doesn’t fucking matter.” She climbs off my lap and sits a little bit down on the couch, facing me. “Who cares if I make more than you? You’ve never asked me for money and freak out if I try to pay for anything. I know you’re not after that.”
“But it matters, Saona. It matters that your family thinks I’m a moocher, that I’m biding my time before I ask you for money. It matters that I can’t take you to Paris and Italy to walk around like you dreamed of.”
Her face softens. “Someday we can, and it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks, which for the record is only my mom. Sierra likes you and the rest of them are nothing to me.”
I’m a fool for doing this but I can’t let this be. “I don’t want to cause you problems with your mom and I don’t want to hold you back.”
Her hand tightens around mine. “You’re not. I love being with you. With you I’m alive and happy and I love—”
“Yeah, but that’s now. Don’t you see? How long until this all becomes tired? How long until you want traveling and adventure?”
The smile stays in place but it’s like she’s holding onto it hard. “If we want to travel, I’ll buy tickets and we’ll get away.”
“And that’s exactly their point.”
“Who is they?” Her face is scrunched up like I’m making no sense.
“Your mom, David, his mother, Edwin.”
“David? As in the man I just divorced?” She laughs. “He’s no one to me. As for the rest, I don’t care what they think.”
“But I do. I don’t want the world to see me as if I’m just waiting to drop the other shoe on you.”
She pushes off the couch and walks to the window. I want to go to her. I want to hug her and drag her to the bedroom and fuck her until we both forget this afternoon happened.
“Let me ask you something, Jax. If you made half a million and I was the one holding two jobs, renovating a house, and helping my mom out, would that make it acceptable to you? Would we be more compatible then?”
I don’t want to answer her, because yes. That would be acceptable. I would help her renovate her house and help her with her mom and take her on getaway weekends and buy her all the things she wants but can’t afford.
She turns from the window and gives me a cold and vacant smile, like the time she showed up in Baltimore without telling me. “I guess to be suitable for you is to quit my job and replace it with something minimum wage?”
Cold washes over me too because now she’s twisting everything. “Don’t you get it, Saona? You don’t have to change anything. You don’t have to be suitable for me. I’m not suitable for you. I’m the one that’s not at your level.”
And fuck. I shouldn’t have said that.
Her face is completely serene. “And you think all of that because you found out how much I make? You’re just like them.”
I frown. “Like who?”
“Like my mom, like David.”
I flinch because if she’d slapped me, it would have been less of an insult. “I’m not like your fucking ex-husband. I’m not trying to live off you. It’s the opposite.”
“Oh, I know that. Trust me, you’ve made that clear in that you’re breaking things off because you’re afraid people will think you’re after my money.”
Breaking things off? I wasn’t trying to do that. Then what else? Where the fuck was I going with this? And that’s when I hear it, the clock is ticking on our last seconds. Because maybe I didn’t know this is where I was going, but I headed straight there.
“You know why you’re just like them? Because since you found out how much I make, I’m not a woman to you. I’m a dollar sign. One that reminds you of what you don’t have, so you want no part of it...”
Pain breaks out in my chest, in my heart, in my ego. Everywhere. She’s wrong. So so wrong. She’s still a woman. The only woman, but I don’t think I can get her to understand where I’m coming from. I need to try.
“Saona—"
“…And since you want no part of me, I don’t need any part of you.”
It’s a knockout punch, one that causes pain to blow through my body, has me rearing back, and lands me helpless and paralyzed to respond.
She knows exactly how to tear a man to pieces.
20
Jax
* * *
The sun found me staring out the window this morning. I was back at home in Baltimore by eleven but it felt like I had driven here from California. I gunned the gas at eighty the whole way down Interstate ninety-five south. It was the longest three hours of my life, a never-ending tunnel of a dark and sometimes rainy night. I hadn’t even left the Bronx before I full-on regretted everything. I hate myself for the sadness in Saona’s eyes and am cold and sickened when I remember that cool mask that slipped over her face. It’s the same one she used here when she acted like she didn’t care and kept pushing me to go out with Matt, Lacey and Kelsey.
But maybe she just doesn’t care. She accepted what I was saying pretty quickly. It’s not like she put up a fight or came up with reasons why we shouldn’t stop what was happening with us.
She didn’t want me to leave until the morning but that was probably out of safety and politeness. I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t be under the same roof with her and what? Sleep on her couch? How do I go from sleeping with her wrapped around me, to lying in another room with a closed door between us? How fucking uncomfortable would that have been?
Midway through the New Jersey Turnpike, the regrets turned into anguish and heartache. I had to call her. She didn’t pick up the phone.
I tried calling again and even pulled over to a rest stop just to text her that I love her and I didn’t want to do this. I ended up calling again instead but got her answering machine once more. I left her a message.
I’m sorry. Please call me.
I stopped by an all-night liquor store and went home to wait for her call. Waited all night, sitting on her favorite windowsill while drinking Mother Fuckers, feeling shitty like a motherfucker, and cursing my motherfucking luck. Her mother’s words played on a loop, over and over in my head. I kept trying to make sense of why I thought it was a good idea to listen to all that but the still voice within repeats all of it is true. She deserves more in her life than a guy that can’t give her what she needs.
And maybe she realizes that too because she hasn’t called.
Around eight in the morning, I got anxious and tired of waiting. I was no longer buzzed. The alcohol had long soured, leaving in my mouth that other brand of regret. I drank more than I should have and felt shittier than ever. I got in my car and drove some more. Between the Mother Fuckers and her mother’s words that wouldn’t let me sleep all night, there was one common word, mother. And now, I need to see mine. I can stay for two days before I have to work again. I had taken the extra days to be with Saona. It was supposed to be our long weekend. I look at the bag in the front seat of the car next to me. The gifts she bought for mom and Aunt Iris. How was I supposed to give them those and explain what’s happened?
I pull up to the driveway and Mom is in the yard. She likes to water her plants early in the morning. She’s wearing her favorite cargo shorts and American flag T-shirt. She looks up at my truck and her eyes widen. I get out the truck with the Hamilton bags in my hand. She shakes her head, her brown eyes so warm and welcoming.
“Oh, hon.” She drops the hose and walks to me with open arms.
She smells like vanilla, outdoors, and comfort. She’s so tiny, her full head of brown and gray hair barely reaches my chin. It should be almost ridiculous that a big man like me can be comforted by someone so small. But I always have been, always will be.
“It’s over.” It’s the only thing I can say.
“I can tell. What happened?”
“I’m not at her level, mom.”
“Did she snub you like that girl?”
I shake my head and we sit on the swing on the porch. Aunt Iris joins us with coffee with milk and a blueberry muffin for me. She and my mom look so much alike. Except for my aunt’s faded blue eyes, made huge by the prescription of her glasses.
I tell them what happened. They listen and both end up looking as down as I am by the end.
“You have to give her some time but you shouldn’t give up. And you need to stop measuring yourself with money, Jackson. You’re a handsome, valuable man. You’re good and caring. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be in love with you.”
“She’s not in love with me, Mom.”
Saona cares. I know that. But there’s the physical and I was the only guy after David but I won’t tell my mom about all the orgasms.
“I love you, Jackson but you’re an idiot,” Mom says.
Aunt Iris nods so hard her glasses bob a little.
“Wow. It’s the worst day of my life and the two of you dump on me some more.”
Mom places a hand on my arm. “We’re not dumping on you. You spent two years with that girl and didn’t realize she didn’t love you and you didn’t really love her. You’ve been with Saona for months and don’t realize that you love her and she loves you.”
“I did love Josie.”
“You bought a house she hated and forbid you to buy.” Aunt Iris throws her hands up in the air in the dramatic way only southern women have down pat.
“And Saona does love you. She’s there for you, gives you advice on the house, listens to the things you say. She bought us presents, because she remembers and pays attention to the things you said about us. That’s why Iris and I will definitely accept the presents.”
“Yeah. If she had broken your heart the way that fast girl had, we would’ve had us a nice Fourth of July bonfire. But you’re the one that broke her heart and your own. I’m not saying I don’t understand why you did it. It’s honorable. We raised you well, but my heart hurts for her too.” Aunt Iris extends her hands toward the presents.
They’re so wrong but I’m way too tired to argue right now. “I’m going to bed. I haven’t slept all night.”
“We know, hon. We can tell. Go on and get some rest. I’ll wake you up for late lunch. We can go to the fireworks together this evening.”
Oh, shit. I forgot about the fireworks. I’m in no mood for a celebration.
I head to my room, close all the curtains, take off my clothes and throw on some pajama pants. The smell of my mother’s lavender detergent and hints of blueberry are in the air as I lie on the bed and close my eyes.
My phone starts vibrating. I almost fall out of bed to grab it from the night stand. But it’s not Saona. It’s the bar manager, asking if I can come to work today and tomorrow. I want to. I do. When I broke up with Josie, work at the bar was what kept me busy and not thinking. It was a refuge, along with my house and my full-time job. And I could use the money for the next phase of house remodels and repairs.
My answer is short and to the point. I’m still out of town.
I’m going to spend the next two days here. I can see what I can do around here and when I go back home, I’m going to throw myself into fixing the second floor. I’ll take as many shifts as possible at the bar.
My last thought as I fall asleep is that maybe instead of New York, I should have brought Saona here.
Saona
* * *
It’s no use. I honestly don’t care about crucial confrontations any more than I did about crucial conversations. Plus, the beach is really no place for books about work environments and politics. I place the iPad in my lap and stare out into the sea. The waves crash against each other and break into glorious foam. I let myself exhale into a peace I haven’t felt in days. A peace I had not wanted, if I’m honest.
I haven’t wanted time to think because thinking is bad. It brings memories and pain. Right now, all I want is the sun on my skin, the sea salt in the air, and the breeze washing over me. That’s why I ran away from the beach house we rented. Punta Cana is too beautiful and just what I need right now. It’s time I enjoyed it.
“I knew I would find you here.”
I smile up at my sister.
She looks like a swimsuit model in the black bikini she bought at the hotel store yesterday. She drops on the beach chair next to mine. “You look good, Saona. We have to get your photo in that red monokini. You can use it as your profile picture on Facebook. But you’re evil because you should’ve saved me too. Mom trapped me in the room for twenty minutes, asking me to help her with you.”
“Sorry,” I grimace. “But, every woman for herself.”
We both laugh.
“I’m sorry you’re caught in between. I just don’t need to talk to her right now. I finally slept well last night.”
We’ve been non-stop for the past five days. After Jax left, we got a call that our grandmother was sick and we had to come to the Dominican Republic to see her. Thank God, she pulled through and is already back home but it’s been a hectic time. Our mother, as always, has been impossible. And that’s saying something. Because I only speak to her when necessary.
This trip, even with the scare, had been a gift. God is really watching out for my mental health. I hadn’t gotten a chance to digest the whole Jax thing and I got to see my grandma. I also got away from my apartment, because minutes after he’d walked out the door, I didn’t think I could stand being in there. So many times, on the way to the airport, my finger hovered over his name on my phone. I’d put it away and turned it off. My job had my grandmother’s house number but they wouldn’t bother me.
“If it weren’t for Emmi and Eddie, I would tell you let’s stay another week.”
I stretch my arms up and the iPad slips down the side of my stomach and lands on the chair. “Only if we can put mom on a plane back.”
“Of course.” She signals for the beach server to come our way. “Can we get two Presidentes?
“We’re going to drink beer at nine in the morning?”
“We’re at the beach. That’s allowed. Are you going to call him back?”
A fissure opens over my chest. And it’s all one word, him. She doesn’t even have to say his name and I’m on the verge of breaking again. “No.”
“Manita, you know me. I think most men are shit. But maybe you should talk to him. See what he wants.”
“For what? It’s over and it’s better if I get back to my normal life, anyway.”
“And what is that, exactly? You went from being with David to being with Jax.”
“Not really.”
She pushes up her shades. “Yes, really. The two of you went from one-night-stand to texting every day and talking every night to we’re trying this thing to being deep in it.”
I shrug. “Maybe he was my rebound guy.”
Fake it ‘til you make it, right?
“You don’t fall in love with rebound guys.”
The pain that breaks in the back of my throat is sudden and I can’t swallow it. I don’t know where the tear came from but it’s suddenly there, sliding down my cheek and followed by another and the next and they won’t stop coming.
The server comes with the beer and asks me if I’m okay. My sister answers after I cover my face with my towel to cry in earnest.
We drink our beers in silence, staring at the waves and the people playing happily on the water. After I struggle for what seems like forever, my breathing normalizes and I can swallow again. I also realize that I’m a cliché. I cried into my beer.
“You need to talk to him. You guys can’t let that bullshit get between you.”
I clear my throat and the fourth time does the trick. “He couldn’t get away fast enough. He said there was no sense in prolonging it. I was in the window, watching him drive away when you called me.”
“I can’t believe he would let what Mom said get to him. I mean, I don’t know. I guess not everyone knows what Mom is like. We are so used to her bouginess, and over-opinions but I guess that’s not the usual for everyone.”
“I guess not. But you know what, it’s for the better. I jumped in too soon with him.”
“But you’re twisted over this dude. You love him.”
“I do.” And how it hurt to admit that out loud. “But I’m not going to fight for someone who doesn’t want to be fought for. Besides, he probably had some other chick stashed somewhere that he wanted to get to.”
It starts with a sidelong glance and then my sister turns her famous bitch-you-crazy smile on me. “Is that the story we’re going with now?”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to survive. I’ll find a new normal.”
PART IV: WHISKEY SAGE
2 Ounces rye whiskey
1 Ounce fresh pink (or red) grapefruit juice
1/2 Ounce fresh lime juice
1/2 Ounce sage simple syrup (recipe below) (An alternative would be 2 tablespoons agave syrup)
2 Dashes bitters
1 sage leaf
Ice
* * *
Use a shaker
In a cocktail shaker half filled with ice, mix the whiskey, grapefruit juice, lime juice, sage simple syrup, and bitters. Shake until it’s chilled and pour into a coupe cocktail glass. Use a sage leaf to garnish. Savor the sweetness and the bite!
