23
Involtini: Meat, seafood, or veg wrapped around a filling like cheese, cured meats, or nuts.
New Year’s Eve 2015
“Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”
Poppers popped.
Confetti flew.
People kissed and kids ran amuck.
Sitting a little apart, watching 2015 become 2016, Gale choked up a little.
Celebrating a very dry New Year’s Eve in Regina’s Soup Kitchen with the familiar homeless, the destitute, his parents, Regina, Marco, and a sort-of girlfriend he still couldn’t believe was his, hadn’t been in his cards, not until way back in March, when Gale got robbed and life took a turn—strangely enough—for the better.
The weeks had become months without him realizing.
Without drama. Like a normal person. Even Sean had been cool. Quiet, for the most part, even as the anniversary of his death came and went without drama, only a few tears.
Gale wished Kyle was there, wished they saw each other more, but Jenara took up a lot of Gale’s free time, and Kyle had taken a new third job, still working to save up for Just Eggs and getting no closer.
Just eggs.
Just dreams.
While Gale was living his.
“You’re far away.”
Jenara’s voice in his ear, her chin on his shoulder.
Gale reached back and threaded fingers through her curls.
“I’m happy.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“A really good thing.”
He pulled her into his lap.
“Happy Bizarre January.”
“Funny.”
She kissed him.
“Happy New Year, Gale.”
They were still kissing when his mother swooped in, nearly knocking them both off the chair.
Jenara clung to his neck but also Lucy’s.
They’d taken to each other quickly and well, just like he’d taken to Jenara’s mother, and her daughter.
Everything was good, good, good. Even he and Frances were getting along better. She didn’t immediately rankle at his changes and suggestions. Gale was pretty sure that had a lot to do with Marco, and that Marco’s interventions had a lot to do with Regina, but with everything balanced so precisely, he wasn’t asking any questions. Not even how Regina and Marco knew each other. Especially not that.
Lucy righted herself.
“Dad and I are going to take Gladys home.”
“Gladys?”
Gale asked.
“Burger Queen.”
“I know.
I wasn’t aware you knew.”
She pursed her lips.
“You sticking around a little? Or should Dad and I just go home from there?”
Gale looked to Jenara.
“We’ll be here,”
she said.
“But I think Regina wants everyone out by one.
She still has to open the kitchen in the morning.”
“Three meals a day, seven days a week.
Believe me, I know.
Okay, we’ll be back.”
She kissed Gale’s cheek, then Jenara’s. “Behave.”
Pulling him to his feet, Jenara slipped from Gale’s lap.
She tugged him into the chaos of people dancing.
Music bumped.
Some sang/shouted the words to Prince’s “1999,”
the ultimate New Year’s song.
Loud, and momentary, garbling back into the rest of the lyrics few did know.
Gale hopped and waved his arms in the air like everyone else.
Sweat rolled from temples to chin.
Jenara laughed and twirled. Marco was trying to lure Regina into the heaving bodies. Gale couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much—
But life is just a party, and parties weren’t meant to last . . .
Clear.
As if no one, nothing else existed.
No phantom.
Just Sean’s voice. Gale’s dancing feet stumbled. He bent over, hands on his knees as if to catch his breath. “Please. Don’t. Please.”
“Don’t what?”
Jenara leaned protectively over him.
Music bumped and boomed back into his ears.
Gale pushed himself upright.
“My back,”
he lied.
“Gave me a twinge.
I’m not old enough for this.”
“Too many long hours on your feet.”
She tugged him from the dance floor.
The music switched.
Bowie’s “Under Pressure.”
Regina’s playlist was firmly entrenched in the eighties and had been all night.
Jenara led Gale to the row of folding chairs lined up along the far wall.
“I’ll be right back.”
He pointed to the bathroom.
“I’ll be waiting.”
She kissed him quickly, flopped onto a chair.
Curls stuck to her sweaty, adorably dimpled face.
At the bathroom sink, Gale wetted a paper towel, and pressed it to his face.
The harsh lighting displayed his bright and blooming Irish cheeks in all their splotched glory.
Jenara loved his white-boy flush in the way he loved her dimples punctuating beautiful brown skin.
They were a contrast. Opposites attracting. Physically fitting. He was the luckiest guy on—
Did you know that song’s about the apocalypse?
Gale closed his eyes, pressed the wet towel to them.
I never listened, really.
Just the chorus, man.
Partying like it’s 1999 sounded like, you know, a fun song.
“I know the lyrics.”
Yeah? I never did.
Bombs and dying and the whole world going to hell.
Pretty grim.
“Yup.”
Something wrong?
“Nothing’s wrong.”
Gale sighed.
“Everything’s great.”
The door banged open.
Two youngish guys stumbled over each other into the bathroom.
“Oh, sorry, dude,”
said one, then burst out laughing.
The other pulled something from his pocket.
A little something.
A brown something. A vial Gale knew for what it was. His heart thudded; palms sweated.
“You can’t do that here.”
“Shit, dude.
Don’t be like that.”
“Seriously, out.
If Regina sees you, you’ll be banned from ever coming back.”
“How’ll she see us in here?”
The one with the vial held it up between forefinger and thumb, wiggled it.
“You gonna tell?”
Sweat trickled from his brow.
The other two hunched together, tipping white powder onto the base of their thumbs.
The first guy snorted.
The second leaned in, then up again. He held out his hand. An offering. A bribe. Gale reached. His hand shook.
He knocked the offering away.
“Out! Both of you.
If I see either of you again tonight, I’m telling Regina.
And you definitely don’t want to see her mad. Go.”
Neither moved. “Now!”
Again they scrambled over each other.
This time, out of the bathroom.
Gale stood in the doorway watching them beat a quick exit out as his parents were coming back in.
Across the cleared dining room, Gale caught Regina’s eye.
One expressive eyebrow raised.
He only shook his head, stepping backward into the bathroom and letting the door close on the faces, the dancing, the noise, and Regina’s quizzical expression.
Bent over the sink, Gale let his head sag.
He hadn’t knowingly been so close to drugs of any kind in what seemed like forever a little while ago, but instantly like just last week.
How did it happen, that instant craving? What sort of chance did he have if it was always going to be that way? If every time was as close to a fall as any other?
You did—
“Shut up, Sean.”
I’m just trying to—
“Shut the fuck up!”
Gale roared at the mirror, at the wide and frightened eyes there.
His.
Sean’s.
“I don’t want to hear you anymore!”
You know what to do then.
Tune out.
Turn off.
Gale knew.
Too well. He closed his eyes to the men in the mirror, too afraid of what he’d see there.
Hey.
Gale opened his eyes.
On his hand, just a sprinkle of white powder.
A tremor rumbled through his body.
He brought the hand, the powder stuck on sweat, to his lips. To the tip of his tongue. Just the tip.
Time never stood still.
Outside the bathroom, his parents, his girlfriend, his mentor, his boss.
His future.
Danced. Gale’s stomach clenched. His hands shook. The water rinsing the powder and sweat from his hand was too hot, but he didn’t pull away.
Happy New Year, buddy.
Gale barely heard Sean’s sad, sardonic laughter over his own sobbing.
January 1, 2016, dawned as any other would have in the past, except Gale’s hangover was emotional, not physical.
Because he was cooking New Year’s Day dinner at her house, for her family, he’d gone home with Jenara.
It was only fair; they’d spent the prior evening with his parents, after all.
Gale would have liked to see his brother. Maybe, if Brian stuck around long enough, he could talk Jenara into a quick pop in once dinner was done. Small chance. They’d met at Christmas, and it hadn’t gone all that well.
“Well, he’s a bit of a prat, isn’t he?”
Jenara had said it with a smile, and a fake British accent.
“A prat?”
“It’s a British term.”
“You’re not British.”
“So? I can’t use it? Don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m not.”
“I happen to like the word, and it fits your brother perfectly.
Is there some rule about Latinas not appropriating British terminology? Is that only for supercool white people?”
“Hey, I never said any of—”
Jenara snorted.
“Ha! Gotcha.
He is though, but I liked him okay.
His pratishness is kind of cute.”
“Cute, huh?”
She’d made a face at him, as she often did.
“His constant need of approval.
He’s like a puppy.
I absolutely don’t like how he’s always one-upping you, but that’s your dynamic and I shouldn’t say anything about it.”
To be fair, she hadn’t mentioned it since.
Gale had always been the deserving recipient of his younger brother’s superiority.
It was weird to know Jenara saw it so easily.
Caught between defending himself and his brother, Gale hadn’t mentioned it since either.
“Good morning.”
Jenara rolled into him, nuzzled his neck.
“Happy twenty sixteen.”
“Yeah, you too.”
Her eyes opened all the way.
Those eyes.
He should feel better just looking into them.
If only that worked.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t bullshit me.”
Jenara came up on her elbow.
“Spill it or I’m kicking you out of my bed.
Not my house, though.
I want whatever dinner you’re making.”
Warmth rose from his belly, spread out to his limbs, his face, made him smile.
“You’re something, you know that?”
“I do.”
She snuggled back into him.
“Now tell me.”
Gale traced circles on her shoulder, words tumbling through his brain still garbled with how quickly it had fallen into the demanding need for the white powder—didn’t matter what it was—offered to him.
Just talk to her, man. Tell her.
A kinder Sean than last night.
Gale didn’t trust him, but he was right.
He started slow.
“I had to kick two guys out of the party last night.”
“Bathroom?”
His circles ceased.
“How’d you know?”
“I figured.
They bolted out of there real fast.
Freaked you out, huh?”
“A little.”
He shifted so they were face-to-face on the pillow.
“A lot.
They offered.
I wanted it so bad.”
“But you didn’t do it.”
“No.”
Liar.
“It hit so hard.”
“Because you were unprepared,”
she told him.
“But you resisted, and that’s the most important part.”
“I guess.”
Gale avoided her gaze.
Dude. Come on.
“There was a little on my hand from when I knocked it away, but I”—actually touched my tongue to it—“caught myself and washed it off.”
Way to go.
Awesome. Chicken.
Gale couldn’t look at her.
He couldn’t tell her either.
He couldn’t watch the affection fade from her eyes.
Jenara lifted his chin with the tip of one small finger “Hey.
You wanted it.
I get it.
So it’s not a total victory, but it’s still a big one. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“I have to be.
You don’t understand.”
Silence lingered too long.
Gale couldn’t look away; neither did she.
Her eyes filled.
His stomach roiled. A whoosh of sheets, and Jenara was out of bed, throwing on a bathrobe so ratty it had to mean something to her. “I can’t do this without coffee.”
Gale was already pulling on a pair of sleep shorts.
“Do what?”
She didn’t answer.
Gale grabbed his T-shirt, hands shaking, from the foot of the bed.
This was it.
She was breaking up with him. He fucked up and she wasn’t going to let it slide. He followed her to the kitchen where her mother and daughter were already having breakfast.
“Happy New Year!”
Alicia bounced on her chair, milk and cereal slurring her words.
She wore the 2016 crown Gale had brought her home from the party.
Jenara kissed her daughter’s forehead, her mother’s cheek.
“Happy New Year.”
“Morning, Mrs.
Bizzarro.
Morning, Alicia.”
“Feliz A?o Nuevo, hijo.”
“Happy New Year, Gale!”
Jenara poured two cups of coffee, handed him one.
“We’ll be out on the sunporch,”
she told her mother.
“We won’t be long.”
“Mija, Gale will freeze like that.”
“He’ll be fine.”
She grabbed his hand.
“Come on.”
Gale let her lead him out of the warm kitchen and into the sunporch.
Morning light made it bright, and kind of warm, but he was still in a T-shirt and shorts holding a cup of coffee and hoping Jenara wasn’t giving up on him, on New Year’s Day of all days.
“It’s time.”
Jenara sipped her coffee, her eyes still fixed on him.
“Jenara, please, don’t—”
She held up a hand.
Gale fell silent.
Another sip, a deep breath, and she told him, “Remember when you asked me if Alicia’s father is involved in her life and I put you off?”
His brain wouldn’t keep up.
Alicia’s father? She wasn’t breaking up with him? Scrambling for the memory, he found it floating around in the night of their first date.
“I remember.”
“Sit.”
She pointed to one of the deck chairs, thankfully cushioned but still cold on his bare legs.
Jenara sat in the chair beside his, set her coffee down.
“He’s dead.
Driving under the influence.”
“Oh, wow.
I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks.”
She rubbed her eyes.
“We were never married, but I loved him.
So much.
He loved me. Stan was a great guy. He loved Alicia. But he had drug problems long before I ever met him. I didn’t know. At first. But I spent five years learning just what it is to love someone with addiction issues.”
“And you still . . .”
Gale couldn’t say the words.
He could only point to himself.
“And I still,”
she said.
“I couldn’t not love him because of his issues, and I can’t not love you either.”
“You love me?”
“Duh.”
Jenara smacked his arm.
Coffee splashed out of the cup his fingers wrapped around.
“I’m not saying it was love at first sight, but there was something there, Gale.
What kind of person would I be if I passed up on something good, on someone as wonderful as you, because of your past?”
“A smart person.”
“Stop.”
She picked up her own coffee again, blew across the top.
“Everyone has issues.
Everyone is entitled to love, to people who believe in them even if they falter.
I just wanted you to know, I understand. I know the drill. I’m not saying I’ll stick around if you fall hard down that rabbit hole and don’t come back up. There’s a line, and I’ll know it if we ever cross it. But shit like last night? That’s not going to send me running. I’m proud of you. I want you to be proud of you. Self-loathing is the quickest road to using again. I know this from experience.”
The twittering inside his skull and the fluttering in the area of his chest was something out of old cartoons and comic strips.
Catching his breath wasn’t an easy feat, but Gale managed it enough to say, “Wow.”
“Wow?”
Jenara blew into her coffee cup.
“That’s it? Wow?”
“I don’t know what else to say.”
Breathing came easier.
“I don’t deserve you.”
“What did I just say about self-loathing?”
“Sorry.”
“No, Gale.
Don’t apologize.
I get it.
I do. But you have to relearn how you see yourself. If you keep believing you’re the user, the addict, the fuckup destined to go over the edge, you always will be.”
Jenara put her coffee aside, moved his out of the way.
She took both his hands in hers, leaning in.
“I can’t believe in you more than you do. Okay?”
The “I guess”
stayed inside his head. “Okay,”
he told her. “Okay.”
“Good.”
She kissed him.
“I’m waiting.”
“Waiting for . . . ?”
“You to respond to the ‘I love you’ elephant in the room.”
“Oh . . . oh!”
Laughter, of all things, rose up from his gut, rolled out of his mouth.
Relief.
Joy.
Fear. There was no pulling one emotion from the other. Gale pushed out of his chair, went to his bare knees on the cold, wooden floor. He’d never said it before. Not to anyone in that way of promises and forevers. It was harder than he imagined, even though she’d said it first. Even though she was waiting. “I almost said it a million times.”
“I know.”
She draped her arms over his shoulders.
“Maybe it makes me conceited, or whatever, but I’ve known you were mad about me almost from the start.
I’m kind of something special.
I know it. You know it. Love was inevitable.”
“You’re not conceited.”
He rested his head in her lap, eyes closed and heart beating the crap out of him.
“It was from the start.
I’m .
. . scared.”
“Yeah, I think we covered some of the reasons behind that.
It’s okay.
Words are hard for some people.
I get that.”
“No!”
The back of his head would have slammed her right in the nose if her reflexes hadn’t pulled her back in time.
“Sorry. Sorry.”
“It’s okay.
You didn’t get me.”
Gale took both her hands in his, gathered them to his chest.
“I do love—”
She put her finger against his lips.
“Established,”
she said.
“The words are nice, but I only wanted you to acknowledge what I said, not respond in kind.
Don’t get me wrong.
I do! Want the words. But not now. Only when you’re feeling it hard and can’t help but tell me. That’s what I want when you say it the first time, not a command performance. Not to be cliché but, straight from the heart.”
She pressed her forehead to his, their breath mingling and fogging just a little.
“Just never lie to me, Gale.
Ever.
That’s an unpardonable offense.”
She kissed his nose, scooting out of her chair.
“Now come on.
Let’s go get some breakfast.
Didn’t you tell Regina you’d come in and help with lunch before you start cooking for me and mine?”
The storm door snapped closed behind her, cutting Alicia’s blare of her party horn to something less earsplitting.
Gale couldn’t follow her inside, even if he was cold and his knees hurt.
He needed a moment.
To process. To accept. To ground himself. To give Sean the chance to put his two cents in.
Nothing.
“Now you’re quiet?”
Still nothing.
“I didn’t lie.”
Groaning to his feet, Gale pressed hands to the small of his back.
He really was too young for so many aches and pains.
Jenara was right, too much time on his feet.
Maybe he needed better shoes.