AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Melody: 1. On whether you have a girlfriend.
Nash: Nope, no girlfriend.
Nash: Next thing? I’m acing this test so far.
Melody: Why don't you have a girlfriend?
Melody: Has no one caught your eye? Too picky?
Nash: You want the truth?
Melody: Always
She spits out the same response he gave her. She wants the truth? I’ll give her the truth.
Nash: There was this girl a few years ago.
Nash: I was pretty obsessed if we are being completely honest.
Nash: I wasn’t even on her radar at the time.
Nash: And no one has been able to live up to that one girl.
Nash: Until now.
Nash: What’s the next thing?
There was a pause, a too damn long pause if you ask him. But then, her response came in, and his mouth curled into a slow smile.
Melody: 2. Depends on whether you can ask me nicely.
Melody: But for now, pick one.
Melody: Red or Black.
Nash: Red.
Another image comes through, it’s red lace against creamy white flesh and his brain short circuits. Looking around to ensure none of the kids snuck up on him while he was distracted, he stared at the image hard. Trying to imprint for easier access to it later.
Melody: Have a good day, Nash.
Nash: Things are definitely looking up, Melody.
Melody
__________
“Melody! I missed you, Mija!” Rosa, Marisol’s mom, launches herself out the front door of their stately red brick home. You would never guess that behind those conservative doors lay an extremely lively Latino family. Well, half Latino, but considering all of the children took after Ms. Rosa, I would venture to say 80 % Latino.
Rosa is a very small, boisterous woman with beautiful sun-kissed skin and large, kind eyes surrounded by a short mess of unruly curls. Her body is wrapped up in a loud Hawaiian-style pink dress, and she is barefoot, as seems to be the norm in this family.
“You never come back to visit! Look at you, so thin. You are wasting away over there. Come have some tortillas with butter. I remember they are your favorite!” she says after pulling away from her tight embrace.
Melody smiles fondly. Thin is not something anyone would ever use as a descriptor for her, but she welcomed the affection. That is what she loved about this family. Their love for each other and for her was evident on their face, in their actions, and all over this house, which felt more like home than Melody’s own.
“I come down every summer!” She rebuttals.
“Mama! Leave her alone!” Marisol screeches, bumping her mother out of the way with her hips, and pulls me inside with a wide smile. “She is here for me.”
