She wanted to go to him, slide into his arms, and never let go. But her whole life of doing what she should and not what she wanted to held her back.
He saw what she was thinking, gave a nod, then he put his shovel into the mulch and withdrew a scoop.
Elise got up and went to stand by him. “I know you’re leaving soon.” She stepped closer. “My Spanish teacher and her grandchildren—mostly the kids—taught me how to cook some Mexican dishes. I told Diego that he and the men are invited to a little party at my house today. At three. Is that all right?”
He put down his shovel and faced her. “Of course. That’s very kind of you.”
His voice was so formal, so distant that it felt as though he’d already left. “I wanted to give you a gift, something special. From me.”
His eyebrows drew together. “A gift?”
She pulled the box out of her pocket and handed it to him.
Taking it, he frowned deeper. He opened the box, barely glanced inside, closed the lid, then shoved it back into her hands. With his shoulders straight, he swiftly walked away from her.
For a moment, Elise just stood there. He looked as if he was angry at her. But how could that be?
She hurried after him, but he was moving so fast that she had to run. When she was close, she grabbed his forearm, but he jerked away and kept going.
“Will you please tell me what’s wrong?” He didn’t slow down or answer.
When she saw that he was heading toward the back fence, she realized that he was going to the trucks. He was going to leave!
Elise ran faster than she ever had and just as he reached the gate, she threw herself in front of it. She was out of breath.
He didn’t speak, just crossed his arms over his chest, and glared—at the fence. He wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“What...?” Pant, pant. “...did I...” Pant, pant. “...do?”
He cut her a look of such anger that the hairs on her neck stood up. Then he looked back at the fence.
To Elise’s surprise, she didn’t relent. When her parents or Kent got angry at her, she felt like a failure and skulked away. Maybe it has to do with...with caring, she thought. She was always afraid of losing their love.
But with Alejandro it was different. She wasn’t afraid of anything about him.
“Is that all you’re going to do?” Her teeth were clenched. “Stand there and glare at the wall? You can’t even speak to me? I wanted to give you a gift to remember me by. You are the one going away. This time next year you’ll probably be married and have a kid, while I’m—”
When he didn’t look at her, she broke off. “Oh, go away! I’ve had all the sulking, ungrateful men I can stand. I’m going to become a lesbian. The hell with all of you.”
She stomped away, but got only a few feet before he halted in front of her. She stepped around him and didn’t slow down.
Again, he put himself in front of her. “Is that what you think of me? That I’ve done so much for you that you give me a tip.”
She was still holding the watch box. “A gift is completely different. It’s—” She waved her hand. “You won’t listen so why bother? You and your sister are just alike. Cinnamon gum, Cartier watches, whatever. You twist them around so they’re something bad.” She looked him in the eyes. “If you think I have some ulterior motive for this—” she held the watch box in front of his face “—then I’d rather throw it in the lake than for you to have it.”
She looked at him with all the anger she felt. Her rage at Kent, her parents, what her life should be and wasn’t, all of it was in her eyes.
He stepped to one side and she started toward the house.
“Don’t come to my party this afternoon,” she said over her shoulder. “It’s for people I like.” When she got to the house, she slammed the door shut.
For hours, Elise worked like a demon on speed. She cooked and cleaned while playing music at a deafening level. Anything to keep from thinking about what had happened.
“Why am I always wrong?” she shouted, but the music was so loud that she couldn’t hear herself.
By three, she had huge bowls of guacamole with a tub full of warm tortilla chips. She’d made chili rellenos, burritos, and rolled enchiladas.
She did her best to smile when Diego and his men arrived, but her eyes were showing her anger. She turned the music down.
“Maybe we should come back,” Diego said.
“No, of course not. I made lots of food. Eat. Take the leftovers home.”
Miguel turned to Franco and said in Spanish, “I’m glad I’m not Alejandro.”
Elise whipped around and in Spanish said, “Alejandro is a steaming pile of dog poop. You like the guacamole?”
The men stepped back, eyes wide. “Si, si. It’s very good.”
“Then eat it!” In the house, she leaned against the refrigerator. She really did need to get herself under control. She’d put out only beer as the men had to drive home, but now she pulled limes out of the fridge. It was time for a margarita—or twelve.
Two hours later, Elise was laughing and dancing with one man after another. They took turns twirling her around. The music had changed to songs from Mexico that blared out from the cell phone of one of the men.
At six, Elise shouted that the men should go home to their families, but they said their wives and kids were in Mexico. She knew Diego’s family was, but not the other men’s. She raised her full glass, the rim coated in coarse salt. “To loneliness,” she yelled in Spanish.
They all drank to it.
Diego, the boss, the serious one who looked out for everyone, was the last to relax and enjoy himself. The men kept saying he was the best dancer but it was nearly dark before Elise could get him onto his feet.
He was good, moving around so easily that Elise glided across the stone terrace. “Is this how you got your wife?” she asked.
“I promised to get her out from under my mother’s rule. She ran to me.” He spun her around at arm’s length. “You are destroying my little brother.”
“Good! He’s ripping my heart out and it’s bleeding all over my feet. I may drown in my own blood.”
She’d said this in Spanish, with such drama that Diego laughed. “There are things about my family that you don’t know. We keep our secrets to ourselves.”
“So tell me your biggest, baddest one.”
“Maybe I should. Maybe we should tell you.”
“I’d like to hear of someone else’s problems.”
“Then I must be silent,” Diego said.
She started to ask him what he meant, but he whirled her away again, then Miguel took her hand, then Franco, then...
She was in Alejandro’s arms, her breasts just touching his chest. He had on a shirt of pure white, with ivory embroidery down the center, and pearl buttons. His hair was washed and slicked back. There was little light on the patio and the dusk made his eyes even darker.
She pushed away from him, but he didn’t let go. “I hate you.”
“I know.” He pulled her to him so that her arms were folded onto his chest. His heart was beating against her cheek. The music changed to slow and he swayed to it. “I have to go back.”
“To your real family?” she said.
“No, it’s not. Part of me will never again belong there.”
“You’re going to make me cry.”
“Good. We will weep together.”
For a while they danced. She put one arm around him, one folded against his chest and he held her fingers in his.
“We both have problems we need to solve,” he said.
Elise stiffened. “You have a girlfriend.”
He chuckled. “I wish it were so simple.”
When the music changed to a hard beat, Alejandro took Elise’s hand and led her into the garden, away from the men. They teased, but Alejandro didn’t slow down.
He stopped at the bench by the herb garden and they sat down. He didn’t let go of her hand.
When she looked up at him, her eyes begging him for a kiss, he didn’t lean forward. He smoothed her hair behind her ear, then put her hand on his chest.
“We cannot start what we will not be able to stop.” He stroked her hair. “We both need to be sure,” he said. “I could not bear to be something you use then toss away.”