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Ciara
* * *
Growing up, he was my entire world. On my seventeen birthday, he kissed me, but then he left and took a part of my heart with him. I knew he would return, but not on the worst day of my life. When I have nothing left to give, he wants all of me, but for how long?
* * *
Will one night together be a stop gap allowing us to move on or will it transform us into together forever?
CIARA
A thunderclap shook the house’s foundation. It vibrated up the walls and rattled the window. From my perch, through the window in my closet, I saw the world unfold. A grown woman hiding out in my childhood bedroom, hoping my brother would tap on the door and tell me it was going to be all right. The storm would pass, and I would laugh again.
But he wasn’t going to be tapping on my door to cheer me up. Not today. Not ever.
“You guys sure you don’t want something to eat.” I heard my mom, clear as if she was in the next room, up through the floorboards. Ever the hostess, my mom had to make sure everyone’s glass was filled, and belly was full.
A chorus of nos and we’re fine rang out through the house. The guys had arrived earlier trying to be useful, taking care of us. They were hurting too.
I’d watched them arrive in a black stretch limo; another limo pulled up behind it. Mikey and Roman stepped out first, followed by Keith and Sean bringing up the rear. All were dressed in dark suits. They straightened and adjusted their clothes and sauntered up the walkway, waving at me. I didn’t wave back. Keith managed a forced smile. The pain in their eyes matched the pain in my heart. They had lost their best friend. My older brother. His guys all showed up to make sure I was okay.
Well, I wasn’t okay.
Each one had come up one at a time to check on me. My guys: Roman, the leader of the group, used his dominating voice to coax me out of hiding, but I wasn’t having it. Mikey used charm. He was my best friend among the guys, but even his tactics had no effect on me. Nor Keith’s humor or Sean’s awkward plea to help him. He was an addicted and probably high. He should have brought me some drugs and I might have listened to him. Anything was better than the pain. I wish I was numb. Numb you went through the motions. But when you were in pain, you looked for ways to stop it, or wallow in it until it suffocated you.
The closet was my safe zone, my refuge. Nothing would drag me out of it. Here is where I planned to stay.
I’d managed to shower earlier before my body would no longer respond to my commands.
You can’t miss your brother’s funeral. The voice in my head whined. It sounded a lot like my mother’s voice.
No. Just watch me.
I rested my head against the cool glass.
Another car pulled up. It wasn’t familiar. A nondescript black four-door sedan parked behind the limo. A man stepped out with his back to me. My heart skipped. I gasped and held my chest for fear my heart would beat right out of my rib cage and drop to the floor.
Ricky Lopez.
My body recognized him before my brain.
What?
How?
Where did he come from?
Ricky unrolled the cuffs on his button-down shirt. He wore blue slacks with a red ribbon up the seams. Military issued. He reached into the car and pulled out the jacket, a deeper shade of blue, with red running across the seams. He slid his arms through it and buttoned it. It fit snug on him, the medals on the left side covered his broad chest. The gold buttons gleamed in the sun.
Ricky had taken off a few years ago, after he and the guys all graduated from college. The six of them met in the sixth grade. They remained tight seventeen years later. All from different nationalities and social economic backgrounds, it was a rarity. It was mostly because of my brother. He was the glue. He held most groups he was part of together. Our family, his team, and the guys.
Bishop was the sun the rest of us orbited around.
Since graduating, they had physically gone their separate ways, but would get together often and always showed up for each other’s big moments. Nothing bigger than today.
Except for Ricky, he went where the military told him to go and it was more often away from us.
He strode up to the front door. The meticulous and measured way he walked he acquired long before he joined the Marine Corps. He peeked up at my window and I ducked down and held in a squeak.
