For Now by Chelsea M. Cameron

  “No snails. Maybe that should be a rule.” I pull out my phone and add it to the list. It’s now the fourth rule.

  We start eating and keep talking about more rules. I shoot down a lot of Javi’s.

  “There will be no rules about nudity,” I say. He sticks out his bottom lip in a ridiculous pout.

  “You ruin everything.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Whatever. I’m not eating dinner naked.” His eyes light up like he’s got another idea. I can guess what it is. “I’m not letting you eat dinner off me while I’m naked either.” Can you imagine if I had an itch or had to get up and pee? No way.

  “I don’t know why I put up with you. You kill all my good ideas,” Javi says, shaking his head in shame as he stabs another piece of beef. The bourguignon is unbelievable. So freaking good. I’m tempted to ask Javi if he’ll make it for me so I can compare. I bet his is better.

  “Good is a matter of perspective.”

  We start talking about other things, including what our menu will be for the next week. Most of the time Javi just surprises us, but lately he’s started taking suggestions.

  “How about soup? You’ve never done soup,” I say as I butter my third piece of bread. It’s like I hadn’t eaten for a week before I came here, but the food is so good I can’t stop. I’m definitely going to regret this in a few hours when I won’t be able to move.

  “I could do soup. What kind?”

  “I don’t know. Chicken noodle?” He makes a face. “What’s wrong with chicken noodle soup?”

  “Any idiot could make it. I like something that’s a challenge.”

  He certainly did. Javi almost never makes anything simple. Even nachos are a gourmet affair, but that’s mostly because of Jett and Shannon who have some weird obsession with bizarre toppings.

  “Fine. How about that one that has the fish and stuff in it?” I say. I can’t remember the name of it. I really should start learning more French if I’m going to be dining with Javi.

  “Bouillabaisse?” God, I don’t care what it is. I just want him to say it over and over again.

  “Yeah, that.”

  He considers that for a moment.

  “I could do that. What’s your sudden soup obsession?”

  I shrug.

  “I don’t know. I thought maybe soup was something I might be able to make without much help. I mean, how hard can it be? You just throw everything in the pot with liquid, right?”

  “Not exactly. But sure, I can make that next week. You sure Shannon would be up for that?” Maybe. I’ll have to ask her.

  I want to order another beer, but Javi is driving so I’d feel like a bitch for having two when he can only have one.

  “Get another. I know you want to,” he says as I look at my empty glass.

  “Really? I hate to rub it in your face.” He waves that off and sets his fork down on his empty plate.

  “It’s my fault for losing the bet. Go ahead.” He motions for the waitress and she saunters over.

  “She’ll have another beer and I think we’d like to see the dessert menu.” I hadn’t said anything about dessert, but I definitely want it.

  My beer comes as Javi and I look over the desserts.

  “I’ve never had tiramisu and I’ve always wondered what it is. Can I get that?” I ask. Javi chuckles.

  “You don’t have to ask me.”

  “But you’re the one who wants to order.”

  “So, just tell me what you want.”

  “I want the tiramisu,” I say, jabbing my finger at the menu.

  “Shit, I get it. I get it.” I kick him again under the table and this time I connect with his shin.

  “Ouch. That wasn’t necessary.”

  “It definitely was.” The waitress comes back and Javi orders the tiramisu and the chocolate cake.

  “That way we can swap back and forth. It’s like getting two desserts.” I can’t argue with his logic.

  “So, what did you think?” I say as we wait for the desserts to come.

  “Nice place. Good food. Little too much thyme in the bourguignon, but other than that, it was good.” I concur, although I don’t know about the thyme thing. It tasted amazing to me.

  Our desserts come and I excuse myself to head to the restroom.

  “Rule Five: When someone’s in the bathroom, the other person doesn’t touch their dessert,” I say before I stand up. Javi just gives me an innocent look.

  “I would never do such a thing.”

  “Right,” I say, touching his shoulder as I walk by. The beers were in tall glasses, so it’s like I’ve had almost four. I make my somewhat-unsteady way to the bathroom. Shouldn’t have gotten that second beer.

  I come back and sit down and there’s a huge bite taken out of my tiramisu.

  “You bastard. I trusted you,” I say with a glare. I pick up my butter knife and point it at him. “You’ve betrayed me, Javier Cruz, and I don’t take betrayal lightly.” He just gives me the innocent look.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, but I wipe the side of his mouth with my finger.

  “Yup. That doesn’t look like chocolate. How could you?” I keep my voice low, but I can feel people looking at me, like Javi and I are having a real fight. It’s kind of hilarious.

  Javi plays along with me.

  “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to do it. I swear, it will never happen again. This was the only time.” I brandish my knife and then grab my fork.

  “The only way to solve this is a bite for a bite.” I take a giant scoop out of his piece of cake and shove it in my mouth.

  “An eye for an eye leaves the whole world without cake,” he says and I nearly choke, but manage chew and swallow the massive bite of cake.

  I go back to my tiramisu and Javi keeps trying to steal bites, but I just knock his fork away with mine.

  “You’re not very good at sharing, are you?” he says. “Must be an only child.”

  “I’m not an only child,” I retort, and then realize I didn’t mean to tell him that. I don’t want to answer questions about my family.

  “Oh?” he says, like he’s not really that interested, but I know he is. “So, how many siblings do you have?” I grab another bite of his chocolate cake.

  “How many do you have, Javier?” Take that. I can answer a personal question with a personal question.

  “I asked you first. How about that as another rule? The person who asks first has to be answered first.” I shake my head. No, I’m not agreeing to that rule.

  “Why don’t you want to talk about your family?” Javi says in a low voice.

  “Why don’t you want to talk about yours? This goes both ways. You can’t be mad at me for not talking about my life when you don’t talk about yours. How about we make that a rule? If one of us asks a question, they have to also be willing to answer it themselves.” Javi narrows his eyes, but nods. I add that to the list as Rule Six.

  “Okay then. So, why don’t you want to talk about your family?” he asks again.

  “And if I tell you, you’ll answer when I ask you?” He sighs and then nods again.

  “Fine. I don’t talk about my family because I don’t like my family. I’m not even sure there’s love there. Not even that kind of obligatory love you’re supposed to have for people you’re related to. Neither of my parents gave a shit about me, and my siblings didn’t either. They were all too busy drinking and doing drugs and sitting around and yelling at sports games and being general wastes of space. None of them even graduated high school and forget about college. They think I’m crazy for working so hard when I could just go out, get knocked up and live off the system.”

  I shudder. That’s what my sisters and my brother had done. All three of them had kids before they turned 18. My mom practically encouraged it. She worked part time flipping burgers at whatever place would take her and Dad would do odd jobs whenever the lights and water got shut off. His main job was sitting on the couch a
nd drinking beer and yelling at the television.

  Yes, I know I shouldn’t hate them, but I do. They would bitch and complain and moan about how shitty their lives were, but wouldn't do a damn thing to change them; then they made fun of me for actually trying to make something of myself. It’s one of the things that drives me so hard to be a lawyer. I don’t want to end up like that. I won’t waste my life.

  “So there you go. I have two sisters and one brother and I’ve only talked to them once or twice in the past year. They’re much too busy having babies and breaking up and getting married and sometimes getting arrested.” I do the one-shoulder shrug. I hate talking about this. It just throws me into a depressive state that can sometimes take days to recover from. It’s one of the reasons I got out as soon as I graduated high school. I would have gotten out sooner if I could have made it happen.

  “Your turn.” I finish my tiramisu (which was outstanding) and sit back and wait for him to tell his story.

  “I can understand why you wouldn’t want to talk about them. I’m sorry they were so shitty to you. Is it weird that I want to meet them so I can yell at them on your behalf?” I thought we were going to be talking about him, but we’re still on me.

  “They wouldn’t listen to you. They hate anyone who actually does anything with their life, and they hate people who go to college and think they’re better than everyone else. I know it makes no sense, but they don’t really live by logic.” One of the reasons I don’t see my parents is that I’m treated to a lecture about how I think I’m too good for them now that I’m a college girl. The phrase “uppity bitch” is often bandied about.

  “My family… I don’t talk about them because…” Javi can’t seem to get the words out. “My family is all in prison.”

  “What?” That wasn’t what I expected. At all. I thought maybe he was one of those people who was from a rich family, but he didn’t want anyone else to know so he pretended to be poor.

  “My family is all in jail. Well, or they’re out on parole. Mom, Dad, all my brothers and sisters-in-law. Even some of my nieces and nephews.” Wow, it sounded like he was from a huge family. A huge criminal family.

  So I ask the question that anyone else would have asked.

  “What are they in prison for?” Javi meets my eyes and holds contact for a few seconds before he answers.

  “Drugs. Murder. Fraud. Money laundering. You name it, they’ve done it.” Holy fucking shit.

  This restaurant doesn’t feel like the right setting for talking about this. Honestly, I’m a bit uncomfortable. The waitress brings the check and interrupts Javi. He pulls out some cash and puts it in the envelope.

  “No change, thank you so much.” He hands it back to her and then his attention is back on me.

  “Are you shocked?”

  “Well, that’s a silly question. Of course I’m shocked. I didn’t think…” I can’t finish my sentence.

  “I know. And now you know why I didn’t tell you. Why I don’t tell anyone. There’s a reason I came to Maine. No one knows me here. People aren’t afraid of me when I walk around. It’s nice.” Whoa, this is getting more and more intense and I think I need a moment.

  “I’m sorry for dropping all this on you. I probably should have taken a more gentle approach.” He starts to get up and I do the same. I wobble a little bit on my feet and I don’t know if it’s the beers or the weight of the information on my shoulders.

  “I’m sorry,” he says again.

  “No, no,” I say, finding my voice. The words keep sticking in my throat. “It’s a lot. And I shouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know. So really, it’s my fault. I want to know more, but I don’t know if I want to know right now.” He nods and leads me to the door where the hostess wishes us a good night.

  I let Javi open the door of the truck and boost me in. I shiver, even though it was warm in the restaurant.

  Javi gets in the truck and starts it. The radio blasts on and he turns it off. The GPS on my phone starts yapping, but I turn it off as well.

  “I’m not ready to back to the apartment. Just drive somewhere. Anywhere,” I say. I don’t care. I just need to sit in a moving car and think for a while.

  “Sure,” Javi says and pulls out of the parking lot.

  We get further and further from civilization and finally Javi pulls into the driveway of what looks like an abandoned house. The paint is peeling and the grass so overgrown it reaches all the way to the windows on the first floor. There’s no evidence of human life anywhere.

  “Where are we?” I ask as he turns the engine off.

  “I have no idea. I figured your phone could get us back. So.”

  “So.” It’s so quiet out here. Too quiet.

  “I’m sorry if I’m being weird. I just don’t know how to react, or what to say, and I don’t want to say the wrong thing, so I was trying to think of something to say and I couldn’t think of anything.” God, I sound like Shannon.

  Javi rubs his hands on the steering wheel.

  “Yeah, I figured. It’s no big deal. I can understand what a shock it must be. Sometimes I can’t believe it’s my life either, even though I wasn’t really around it much.” I open my mouth to ask a question, but he cuts me off and keeps talking.

  “I was raised by my grandmother. I was the youngest and she figured she could get me out and keep me safe. My parents didn’t really care all that much since they had all my brothers to carry on the family legacy, so to speak, so they gave me up to her. But they would come by every now and then. And I couldn’t avoid the news, or what people said about me. She… she died a few years ago.” His voice shook.

  “I’m so sorry, Javi.” He just keeps breaking my heart. My childhood sucked, but it wasn’t even close to that. Sure, my family dabbled in drugs, but nothing too hard and they weren’t dealers.

  “She was the only one who ever cared about me as anything other than a cog in a wheel. She’s the reason I’m in college. It was her dream for me.” I can’t stop the tears from coming, but I brush them away so he won’t see them.

  “There’s more, but those are stories for another time.” He sighs and I can sense he’s done for now. I wipe my eyes and sniff. I really need a tissue.

  “In the glove box,” Javi says and I pull out a travel pack of tissues and blow my nose.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry.”

  “It’s okay.” His voice is hollow.

  “Do you regret telling me?” I ask. He thinks about that for a moment.

  “I don’t know. The only other person who knows is Jett. He’s got his own family drama, so we sort of bonded over that. Not that his parents are criminals, but he understands the need to get away from your genetics.”

  “I get that. So does Shannon. Her family is also pretty shitty. Man, what are the chances we’d all find each other?” Miniscule. There wasn’t one of us who had a “typical” upbringing, whatever that was.

  “Pretty good. I think most people, if you really asked them, would tell you they had bad stuff in their lives. That’s life. Bad stuff happening and then good stuff happening in between. And sometimes the bad comes with the good.” I move close to him. The truck is getting cold and I want to ask him to turn the heat on.

  The house in front of us looks sad and abandoned, almost like it’s crying.

  “So, Javi. Is this bad or good?”

  “Both,” he says and then reaches for me. I lean into him, the seats in the truck creaking.

  He kisses me softly and I wait for it to escalate. But he pulls away and strokes my face.

  “You look really amazing tonight. I just wanted you to know that. And I had a really good time on our non-date. I can’t wait to do it again.”

  “Ditto,” I say and sit back.

  We both stare at the house for a few minutes, and then the shivering becomes too much for me.

  “Ready to go back?” I nod and Javi turns the truck back on and I get out my phone to figure out where the hell we are a
nd how to get back to my apartment.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to go?” Javi says when he parks the truck.

  “Only if you want to. If you want to stay, stay. If you don’t, don’t.” He nods and gets out of the truck and then opens my door.

  “You’re not supposed to do that,” I say.

  “Fuck the rules.” He takes my hand as we walk up the porch and into the house. It’s quiet and Shannon has left a note that she’s staying at Jett’s. She could have just texted me like she usually does, but I have the feeling she didn’t want to interrupt my non-date.

  Javi keeps my hand in his and leads me to my bedroom.

  He lets go only to pull the cardigan off my shoulders and turn me around.

  “Fuck, I love this dress.” His fingers trace the straps that crisscross in the back. His lips kiss my bare shoulder and I lean back into him.

  “Javi,” I say, my voice all breathy. God, what he does to me with just a few touches and a kiss.

  “Shhh,” he says. “Let me take care of you.”

  He pulls the straps over my shoulders and kisses across my upper back. I had to wear a strapless bra, so he undoes that and then unzips the dress. It falls to the floor and then he moves us to stand in front of my closet where I have a full-length mirror.

  “Look how beautiful you are,” he says in my ear as he hooks his fingers around the edges of my panties and then slowly lowers them down my legs. He looks up at me and I almost want to cry again. He’s looking at me with so much… love.

  There’s nothing else it can be. It’s one of those things. You know it when you see it. And there it is.

  He picks up my foot and kisses my ankle and moves upward to the inside of my leg, lifting and putting it over his shoulder. I shudder and can barely stand and he hasn’t even gotten to the good part yet.

  “Watch yourself. I want you to see what I see.” I’ve never been much of an exhibitionist, but I look in the mirror. Javi is on his knees, my leg hooked over his shoulder and I’m arching into him. My skin is flushed and my eyes are bright. Excited.

  Javi kisses further up my leg and I watch myself and watch him. He keeps glancing up at me to make sure I’m watching myself.