Chapter 11
Cruz
If anyone else asked me that question, it would make me feel like I’d been backed into a corner, but the soft, concerned, open way that Sloane asks doesn’t make me feel threatened or put on the spot.
She’s not waiting to trip me up or use the information against me.
I don’t know many people who would, but I’m naturally cautious.
I suppose it comes from always being on the sidelines watching. I’ve seen a lot of shit go wrong.
“No.”
Try as I might, that’s the only word I can get out.
I want to tell her that I appreciate her opening up to me.
It’s not an easy thing, to be raw and transparent.
Giving someone else an insider peek into your heart and the things you value the most, gives them a weapon to use against you.
The fact that she’s telling me this is like her handing me a key, knowing that I’ll never use it against her. It’s trust.
We haven’t known each other long enough for that, but she’s placing all of this in my hands anyway. I want to curl my palms tight and keep that information safe forever.
I’m aware that the impulse is far too sentimental.
“Were you quiet growing up? Did people make assumptions? Was it bad? Never mind. You don’t have to tell me. That’s being nosy.”
Sloane’s expression is so sweet, so open, so kind that I find myself wanting to tell her.
Not only that, but I open my mouth, and the words are just…
there. “It was… what it was. It wasn’t that bad.
Mostly, I was a big kid. People tend not to fuck with you if you look like you can put them in the ground with a single punch. ”
“Did you ever have to do that?”
“Once or twice. The tough guys like to take on the big ones sometimes. It only ever took one punch, though I’d try to warn them. I was nice about it like that, but when it couldn’t be avoided…”
“Are people drawn to you? When they should be scared?”
I don’t like giving myself away, but I know that I look surprised. “What do you mean?”
“Do you have this magnetism where people just can’t help themselves?
Where they want to be your friend, or want to come talk because you’re intimidating and good looking, but there’s also something mysterious about you that makes them want to get close?
The whole silence thing is a big mystery to people, but you have this aura. ”
I swallow thickly. “I tried to protect people as a kid, then I grew up and did it for my country.”
She cocks her head. The late morning sunlight shines through the café’s windows, haloing her sandy hair and turning her eyes the color of damp leaves in the summer. “Your parents weren’t proud of that?”
“My parents came from money. They were too drunk or flatlined on prescription meds to care most of the time.”
“I… fuck. That’s shitty. People think that not having money sucks and it does. Poverty is a terrible thing. But having too much doesn’t seem to be good for people either. There are some that probably manage to stay grounded, but you don’t hear a lot of stories about that.”
“Yeah. Generally, money brings boredom and boredom brings you too much time to think, and while you’re thinking, you might start to feel.
I don’t think people are properly equipped to deal with that.
They were okay for a while, when I was really young.
I remember some of that, but then they got one prescription and another and another and they couldn’t function without it.
To be honest I don’t know what triggered it with them, we didn’t really talk as a family.
And as you’ve probably gathered, I’m not a big talker, anyway. ”
“Did you see specialists? For not talking?”
“Dozens. My parents didn’t want a freak for a kid, and my dad didn’t want a stupid one either.”
“Oh my god!” She fists her hands on her hips all the way up there on the ladder. I nearly panic, and shoot a hand out to brace her, but she grabs the top and supports herself. “Where are these people? Write down their address right now!”
My lips twitch. “I was making vague sounds by the time I was two. That’s when I went to the first specialist. It wasn’t until I was five that I started seeing therapists.
As in, shrinks, not speech therapists, though I did see them too.
No one found a label that stuck. I was ten before one doctor finally told my parents that maybe there was nothing wrong with me. Maybe I was just fucking quiet.”
“Did she say it like that? I hope she did.”
“She probably used far more technical medical terms. After that, there was no more therapists. I struggled at school, which was no surprise to my parents, but I think they’d mostly lost interest by then.
Everyone wanted me to play sports because of my size, but I hated most of it.
The school had a wrestling team, and that’s what got me hooked.
I had no problem with physical activities and coordination, it was just academic.
Eventually, my grade eight English teacher got me tested, and it showed that I was dyslexic.
Having a diagnosis was a relief to my parents.
They lumped it all together and basically thought…
oh well. At least I was good at some sports. ”
Sloane’s eyes flash and darken with anger. Seeing her angry on my behalf, it’s impossible not to feel all sorts of ways about that.
“Did you enlist right after high school?”
“No. I put some of my parent’s money to use and made them buy me a place at college. Not a prestigious one, but one all the same. Some people who are dyslexic struggle with numbers, but I did alright. I got a degree in quantum physics.”
“Are you serious?”
“Is that unthinkable?”
Her cheeks redden and she looks flustered. “No! It’s just… holy shit. Was it a big fuck you to everyone?”
She reads me so well. Not many people can.
The silence is unnerving, and most give up, or don’t try in the first place.
They see a big, hard looking guy and assume that I’m both of those things alone.
“That’s mostly why I did it. I got on a wrestling team there.
I was training hard. I had my mind set to something else. Another fuck you.”
“The SEALs.”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t they only take one percent of applicants?”
“It’s more the rate of people who don’t make it in the training. I think twenty percent or so make it out. It’s not as bad as you’d think.”
“Umm, I’ve heard about their Hell Week training. It’s bad.”
“After, I had the knee surgeries and did the rehab and ended up here. The club was looking for someone to teach self-defense and revamp the gym in general, so it worked out.”
“That’s the craziest story I’ve heard in a while.”
“I don’t think SEALs was as hard as raising a child. That’s pretty crazy too.”
“Well… maybe I wouldn’t think SEALs was so hard if I was built like you, but then again, it’s probably mostly mental.
” Her eyes do a slow sweep over me. I try not to let that suck the air right out of my lungs.
“I guess people find their fit and their place and make that a home if they don’t have one or didn’t come from much of one.
Not that I didn’t. My parents were fine.
Judgmental and strict and even closed minded, but they weren’t awful.
They didn’t really know what to do with me after I turned twelve.
Most people don’t like teenagers. I wasn’t even a bad one.
The only thing I ever did was sneak around with my sort of boyfriend a little, but I think that’s pretty average.
I never partied or drank, did any weird drugs, and I got straight A’s.
Probably the prime cliched candidate for a teenage pregnancy, now that I think about it.
But… that’s okay. I’ve made my peace with all of it.
I’m here, dusting ceiling tiles. I have a wonderful son, a solid business, and a great community to call home.
It could be worse.” She pauses, eying me up like she’s trying to figure out how to say what she wants to say, but now she’s worried about how it’s going to come out.
“You’ve said a lot of words. I’m honored. ”
“Stop,” I groan.
“I am! I’m not joking. I’d never make fun of you like that.”
She’s been up on that ladder for a good while, but she’s not making any move to finish the fixture or come down. “Do you… ever wonder what’s next? Or if you’re doing everything you’re supposed to?”
I don’t know how to respond. No one has ever asked me anything like this. “Do you mean what’s the meaning of it all?”
“No. Not exactly.”
“I’m not sure. What do you think?”
‘I don’t know.” She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth and bites down on it before releasing it.
Her eyes flit to the window and they don’t return to me.
“I said I don’t really feel lonely, but there are those moments where I see happy families, or couples in love, or old people still together who still treasure each other, and I kind of wonder what it would be like.
Other times, I hear about nasty divorces or bad breakups, and it all seems like it’s so precarious, and life is already fragile.
We’re all one disaster away from not being here, and you can’t think about that all the time, or you’d go insane.
I guess that sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if I’d found my person, but mostly, I don’t.
Mostly I just worry about being a good mom. ”
“I think you’re a great mom.”
“You’ve only seen me be a mom for a few days.”
“Hard, stressful ones. It’s true that you learn so much more about a person when they’re under stress and from their trauma response than from seeing them in a good time.”
“Did I pass the Litmus test?”
Not waiting for a response, she continues. “How about you? Do you want… a family? Or a partner? Kids?” She’s not afraid to ask the big questions. I guess we’re at a point where it doesn’t feel rude, after exchanging so much with each other already.