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I dropped my arms. “I know.” I blinked back tears.
“We are all feeling it. So could you please give us a break?” She wiped the tears from her cheek. “Please. Don’t make it all about you.”
I recoiled back as if she slapped me across the face. All about me.
I had no chance to respond before she stepped around me and went back inside. Maybe it was her grief talking or she’d gone completely insane. It wasn’t at all about me. It never had been in my family. It was all about Bishop. Who ever said the baby in the family got all the attention forgot to inform my family. Bishop was their firstborn and their pride and joy. He was popular, got good grades in school, was a good athlete, had a good job that he loved. But here’s the rub, I too got good grades. Better than him. I graduated with honors from the University of Texas. I had a great job waiting for me in Las Vegas. I would no longer be a burden to them financially or otherwise.
Don’t make it all about you.
I shook her voice and its tone out of my head. I rounded the corner and spotted Ricky.
I wasn’t selfish, because everything in me wouldn’t be able to go on if he wasn’t okay.
He had been alone and now he was being so strong, but his resolve was breaking. He needed someone to hold him up. It was going to have to be me. I wouldn’t let him fall.
I shuffled across the open parking lot.
I found him kicking rocks out by the old rusted-out caboose behind the restaurant. It looked authentic and sat on tracks that disappeared into the woods. He had his hands in his pockets, mumbling something under his breath.
“Ricky.” I approached but stopped when he lifted his head. His cheeks were splotched red and tears filled his eyes.
“Go back inside, Ciara.” He turned away from me. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“No!” I yelled.
He spun around to face me. His eyes darkened.
“You said you would never leave my side today.” I motioned to my side. “Here it is and you’re not by it.”
He narrowed his eyes and turned away again.
I stepped around him and grabbed his forearms. “You don’t have to go through it alone. I’m here for you, just as much as you have been here for me.”
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He grunted and pulled his arms away. He wiped his face with the back of his hands.
I stood in front of him, hugging myself. His close-cropped hair had gold flecks in it. They illuminated in the sun. Had he always been this handsome? His olive complexion was darker than I remembered. His father’s family was from Mexico, but he was lighter than them. His mother was from the Dominican Republic. His younger brother had blue eyes.
Maybe it was the uniform. The gold buttons brought out the gold flecks in his hair. He stood rod straight, as if on command, his shoulders back. It made the droop in his gaze more pronounced. I had the urge to tell him to relax. At ease, like they said in the military.
My gaze ran up his body from his perfectly polished shoes to the gleaming gold belt buckle. His broad chest moved up and down with his breath. When I reached his face, I gasped.
The intensity in his eyes made all sorts of feelings in my body bubble to the surface. I stepped back but dropped my hands to my side. Ricky stalked toward me. He towered above me, covering me like a warm blanket. He didn’t touch me. He didn’t have to. It was crystal clear in that moment. He wanted me.
Just as much as I wanted him.
But there had never really been a question about that. I was all about timing. At seventeen, I was still too young. Never been kiss before him. At twenty-two, he decided to make the military his career. He traveled all over the world. In Spruce I stayed. It wasn’t like I sat at home on Friday nights pining away for him.
I went out with friends. I dated some. I had a good time in high school and in college. But, he was always on my mind. I’d count down the days until he would be home on leave, and fantasized about stolen moments that never happened. I hoped for an invite to whatever exotic place he was stationed, or not rebuffed when I begged to go on one of their notorious guys’ trips.
I ducked around him and put some space between us. His brooding stare made it hard for me to think. I wanted to ask him if it was finally time for us. Was he ready to have the conversation? Was the connection we felt a product of circumstances and history? As far as origin stories go, beginning at a funeral wasn’t a great start, but our story started years ago.
“You want to get out of here?”
He pulled me out of my thoughts. I peeked up at him. The sun remained high in the sky. I stepped forward and reached into his jacket and pulled out his sunglasses and placed them over my eyes.
“What about your parents?” I pointed to the building. “Aren’t you even going to speak to them?”
“I don’t want to get caught up.” He grabbed my hand and headed toward the limousine. “I’ll call them on my way out of town.
