Chapter 6 #2
Neither of them looked like they believed me, but I didn’t want to get into Easton right now.
I was still trying to figure out how I felt about him.
I’d been struck by his honesty of being unsure of what to do about the stops and his desire to help.
Of course, it could all be lip service, but it seemed like he was at least trying.
Thankfully, Camilo changed the subject.
“How’s it going with Ari? I forgot to ask about it when I saw you before. I’m so glad you’re doing that, P.” I smiled at that, because I was glad, too.
I grimaced thinking about what Nesto told me about Ari’s uncle.
“Honestly, I still haven’t gotten a chance to really sit down and talk with him.
I lifted a hand to appease Camilo’s stank face.
“Chill, I made plans to meet him as soon as I get back to town.” I wasn’t going to drag my feet on this.
I couldn’t control or fix some of the shit that was going on in Ithaca, but I could step up and support Ari.
“Between the move and his schedule, we haven’t been able to make time.
” I sighed, remembering what Nesto told me the night I moved in.
“It seems like his uncle’s making trouble for him about his immigration and—” I cringed thinking of his plans to come out “—things have been pretty serious with him and Yin. Nesto’s worried if he comes out, that will make things much worse. ”
Camilo and J both looked horrified. Milo was the first one to talk. “Oh my god. That is not okay. After poor Ari spent all that time in an immigration detention center. You’d think he’d earned his chance to fall in love and act like a normal twenty-two-year-old.”
“I know that’s right.” It was rare to hear Juanpa give an opinion about things or people he didn’t know too well, but Ari has grown on all of us. He certainly deserved some peace.
“His first few years here were not easy. I hope that between Nesto, Jude, and I, we can make sure he at least feels more supported. It’s not like he’s not trying either. I’ve never seen anyone with more hustle.”
Camilo put a hand on my shoulder, his gray eyes a little sad.
“You’ll be good for him; you get where he’s at.
” I nodded, remembering the tension of those first few months in the U.S.
when my mom and I had no idea how we were going to stay here.
The desperation of not knowing. So many nights I’d woken up and found my mom crying in bed.
Our first year here, we’d lived with friends or friends of friends as our asylum case was evaluated.
On people’s foldout couches or on a mattress on the floor.
The money my dad had given her to come to the States kept in a secret place for when we landed somewhere that felt safe to put down roots.
It wasn’t until we finally got to New York City and my mom connected with an old friend of my grandmother’s that things started looking better.
But that first year in Florida almost broke her.
I wondered what Easton would think about it if I told him everything, all the things my mother had to do to make sure we didn’t end up on the street.
“Dude, you wild intense tonight. More than usual, and that’s saying a lot,” Juanpa again.
Camilo smirked as he picked up a spoonful of soup. “He’s thinking about his man.”
I thoroughly ignored that and changed the subject. “You assholes still want to see a movie afterwards?”
Juanpa nodded and gave me a thumbs-up. “Yeah man. We’ll go to the place by me. It’s got a full bar and kitchen, bruh. We can order beer.”
“Ignoring my true statement doesn’t make you less thirsty for Easton,” Camilo muttered, at least he was considerate enough to not get my mother’s attention.
I shamelessly ignored Camilo again and turned to Juanpa. “Sounds good man.”
I was about to ask what movie he’d decided on when Dinorah looked over at us. Like usual, the “kids” had been talking with each other while the “grownups” did their own thing.
“Patrice, m’ijo, tell us about your new job. We want to know how it’s going over there.”
That got the conversation off in another direction, and as I talked, I tried to make myself forget that all I wanted to do was take my phone out and message Easton.
Easton
I was in the Bad Place.
Patrice hadn’t answered the text I’d sent over two hours ago. So I walked out of my office at 9:00 p.m. on Friday, feeling the weight of my phone like an anvil in my pocket.
I would have to sit and think about what was going on with me.
My desperation for Patrice had reached the point where not getting a response from a text sent me into a tailspin of self-doubt.
Every few minutes I was caught in a cycle of wanting to delete it, feeling stupid for sending it, and ultimately hating him for ignoring me.
“Man you look like you need a drink,” Ron said as he walked to the elevator where I was standing. “Did Sherriff Day cancel on you or something?”
I shook my head and sighed. “No, we’re still on for Monday. I know Cindy won’t like that I called this meeting without asking her.”
The look Ron gave me told me that he didn’t care about feelings if it meant getting a handle on what was going on with these stops.
“I hope that Day can be reasonable. I’m not trying to tell anyone how to do their job, but this approach of waiting until shit explodes to do anything seems reckless.”
Ron grunted as we got into the elevator.
He was a big guy, Patrice’s size. Because everything these days ultimately led to Patrice.
“It’s not about you telling him how to do his job, it’s about you having a conversation with him about problematic shit that’s happening on his watch.
Day’s a good guy and I respect him. But “watch and wait until something worse happens” is not how you protect a community. ”
“I can’t argue with that,” I said, shoving my hands into my pockets.
Ron shook his head and went on. “The DA’s office and local law enforcement should be on the same page. They bring us the cases to prosecute, and if we can’t trust their judgement, it’s going to be a problem.”
We walked out of the elevator into a crisp Ithaca fall evening, as I mulled over Ron’s words. “I respect Day, too. I hope he can hear what we have to say.”
Ron clapped me on the back. “For what it’s worth, everyone in town respects you. Day won’t ignore something you bring to him.”
I didn’t know how to react to that. I worked my ass off and I’d proven myself in the courtroom in the years since I started as a prosecutor many times over. But that niggling doubt that people saw me as just a rich kid rebelling against his parents was ever present.
“Thanks for saying that Ron.”
He nodded as we reached the parking lot. “Don’t thank me, it’s the truth. You’re too hard on yourself. So you want to go for that beer? Vicky’s out of town with the kids seeing her sister in Syracuse.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Nice, nothing but beer and wings for the next two days, huh?” Ron’s deep laugh was something.
“You know it.”
Just as I was going to ask him where to meet him, my phone buzzed. I held up a finger at Ron and quickly got the phone out of my jacket pocket. As soon as I saw the screen, I felt a shiver run through my body.
Patrice.
I opened the message app and saw two photos: one of an enormous bowl of pumpkin and beef soup that looked delicious and the other of the Manhattan skyline.
Soup was good then went to the movies with C and J. Driving back up to Juanpa’s place, I’m staying with him tonight. Got this shot when we were driving over the Whitestone Bridge. If you’re up for it, hit me up later. I’ll be around…
My stomach did an actual flip.
I had no idea my body could do the things it had done in the last two minutes. What did the text mean? Did he want me to call him?
Ron cleared his throat, reminding me he was waiting for an answer about going for a drink. I slowly lifted my head and found him smirking at me. “I assume that text changed your plans for the evening.”
I blushed and, like a complete tool, pressed the screen against my chest.
He laughed and clapped my shoulder. “I gotta go, Mike’s already there and he eats all the good wings if I’m late, leaves all the sweet ones.” He made a hilarious face of disgust and I chuckled.
“All right, Ron. Have a good weekend. See you Monday.”
He waved as he got in his car. “I hope whoever made you smile like that treats you right, Easton. You deserve it.”
Now I was really fucking blushing.
I waved at Ron as he got in his truck and immediately started the three blocks to my building. I kept thinking of ways to respond. What should I say? Should I send a photo?
By the time I got to my apartment, I’d made up my mind.
I started undressing as I moved through the loft, the feel of air against my skin was almost too much. I felt like my body was on fire…over a text. I toed off my shoes by the stairs going up to the bedroom and took of my shirt as I went.
I got to the room and turned on the lamp by my bed, then with my back to the window, took a selfie. I sent Patrice the image of me, shirtless with rumpled hair, before I talked myself out of it.
Just the clock tower view for me tonight, and bed soon…
I knew I was starting something, but I was loathe to stop whatever this was.