4. Cori - Age 14
Chapter four
FIFTEEN YEARS AGO
I’d lost track of time unloading a Costco order with Rosa.
She’d let me help more at the Center lately, putting things away, cleaning up, and answering the phone.
We’d been chatting about the book I’d just read for English, Brave New World , while we stacked cans of diced peaches and boxes of Ritz crackers in the pantry.
The last-minute babysitting request came in late yesterday after one of their older daughters had to back out because her car had broken down.
Of the seven siblings, only Deck, Marisol, and their brother Raymond still lived at home.
Fernando had graduated from college and moved to California.
Justina and her twin sister, Angelina, lived in the dorms at Seattle University, and Emilio had an apartment near the community college where he attended part-time.
Raymond played the violin in the high school orchestra and had even won awards for it.
He wanted to attend a prestigious music college.
Michael and María needed a sitter so they could watch him at an important audition.
Since everyone respected Deck’s refusal to watch Marisol alone, I was the next best option.
As I ventured up the walkway of the Deckers’ mint-colored Craftsman, I saw Bastardo on the front step grooming himself. I leaned down to pet him.
Marisol’s parents had gotten her the kitten last year.
She spent so much time in bed, they’d figured he could keep her company.
Unfortunately, the only household member the charcoal-colored tabby seemed to tolerate was Deck—and me, when I visited their house.
The touchy feline they’d initially named Baxter had gone on to become a staple of the neighborhood, earning the obvious nickname “Bastard” as he roamed around digging up flowers, sleeping on freshly washed car hoods, and hissing at children.
“? Ay, Bastardo !” was a common refrain heard on the Deckers’ street.
I was about to knock on the door when it opened, and Emilio came out.
“Hey Cori, you’re watching Marisol?” he asked with his usual friendliness.
“Yeah. I didn’t know you’d be here. Your mom said you and your sisters couldn’t do it.”
“That’s true. I’m on my way out. Just came by to do laundry.” He held up the black duffel by his side. “I would have stayed with Mari except I have a ride-along scheduled with the EPD tonight for this criminology course I’m taking.”
“That sounds interesting. Maybe you’ll get to be in a high-speed chase or something.”
Emilio let out a small laugh. “That would be fun. But I’m expecting it to be muy tranquilo .”
“Well, I hope they at least let you switch on the lights and sirens.”
He smiled, lifting his hand to show crossed fingers. “Bye, Cori. Thanks for helping. It means a lot to my parents, to all of us.”
“It’s no trouble,” I assured him as Bastardo scurried into the house between our feet. “Your house is way bigger than mine. Plus, your parents let me watch TV, and there are always good leftovers in the fridge.”
“ Seguro. Mamá’s cooking es la mejor .”
He shrugged on his coat and winked at me as he walked out to the fifteen-year-old Sentra in the driveway. His pride and joy.
Emilio Decker radiated charm. Not to mention, he was smart and gorgeous. If I didn’t already love Arturo Decker with my whole heart, I might have considered crushing on his older brother instead.
I walked into the light-filled kitchen, which was decorated like the rest of the interior in varying shades of red, orange, and yellow.
Marisol sat at the table, squeezing Hershey’s syrup into a glass of milk.
It had been a while since she’d had any surgeries, and she appeared more energetic than usual.
But even during these in-between times, her parents worried about her being outside too much and exposing herself to germs.
After washing my hands, I sat down with her while she swirled a spoon around her glass.
“Hi there, little miss. What should we do tonight?”
She grinned toothily. “Will you read to me?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Leaving her milk on the table, she went to her room to choose some books.
Marisol always loved being read to. Now that she was seven, she was also reading simple books on her own.
I felt guilty about sometimes getting impatient while she sounded out her words.
I had no idea how Rosa managed to help kids who struggled with their homework every day at the Center.
María and Michael rushed into the kitchen. He scooped up his keys and wallet, while she put on her earrings.
“Thank you, Cori, you’re a lifesaver,” María said. “We should be back before nine. Artie’s here now, but he’s leaving soon. There are enchiladas warming in the oven. Marisol should eat around six, and I’ll be disappointed if you don’t help yourself as well.”
I would have watched Marisol regardless, but Mamá Decker’s cooking was a nice perk. The most my mom ever did was boil noodles to eat with jarred spaghetti sauce.
The Deckers hurried through the back door. Michael called out, “Marisol, be good for Cori. Bye, Arturo. Be home by eleven.”
After they left, and with Marisol still hunting for books upstairs, I peeked into the living/dining room.
I saw Deck hunched over the dining table, mumbling to himself.
One of his pointer fingers moved back and forth across the page of an open textbook.
His other arm hung by his side, gripping a pen.
Even agitated and annoyed, he was still the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen.
I’d known him for almost four years, but now just looking at Deck made my heart beat faster.
The change had happened so slowly I hadn't even noticed it at first. It was like one day I looked up and realized the boy I’d known forever was exactly the same person he’d always been, yet somehow, completely different.
From my place in the kitchen archway, I admired him.
He had on beige chinos and a white tank top.
The gold chain he always wore rested between his chest muscles.
Evidently, the hours that he, Johnny, Cruz, and Eliazar spent lifting weights in his garage were paying off.
He’d slicked his hair back into a low ponytail, a style that highlighted his broad brown shoulders.
At school yesterday, I’d overheard one of the girls in my eighth-grade class talking about him.
“You remember Artie Decker? I saw him skating at the park this weekend. Damn, that boy has gotten fine as fuck since starting high school. Imma shoot my shot next year when we’re back in the same building.”
While her friends laughed, I’d frowned at the reminder Deck would never look at me like I looked at him. The hot girls wanted him. He was beautiful and mysterious and sexy, and I was…his best friend’s little sister.
Still, he was always nice to me, and I spent a lot of time with him, even if it was mostly because of Johnny. Deck might not notice me the way I wanted him to, but he’d never made me feel invisible.
I was busy checking out the definition in his biceps when he groaned in frustration. “Fuck!” he shouted, slamming the textbook shut. “Fucking shit assignment.”
I backed away before he could see me.
Retreating into the kitchen, I intercepted Marisol carrying a stack of books from her room.
“Should we sit on the couch?” she asked.
“Actually, I think here is good. We don’t want to disturb your brother while he’s doing homework.”
But then Deck came tearing through the kitchen, heading toward the back door. He stopped short when he saw me.
“Oh, hey, Cori. Mamá told me you were coming.” He brushed his hands across his thighs before running both hands over his slick hair. “How’d the essay turn out?”
Deck also knew I was studying Brave New World . We’d talked about it at the Center when he came to meet up with Eliazar the other day.
“Okay, I think. It was nice of you to listen to me about it.”
“No worries. I had to read that book in eighth, too, but I didn’t really get it. You should have been my teacher.” He waggled his eyebrows.
My cheeks heated. “Thanks."
“Nah. I should be thanking you for watching my baby sister while your brother and I get up to no good,” he teased.
At least, I hoped he was teasing. Johnny had come home smelling like weed last weekend.
“It’s no problem. Marisol and I only got halfway through the book on Jesse Owens last time, and I need to find out how it ends.” I turned to his sister and gave her a small salute when she produced the book in question.
“Cool. I tried to read to her a few days ago, but—”
“He’s not good at it,” Marisol interjected innocently. “He goes too slow, and then he just makes the words up.”
I winced at Deck’s immediate expression of embarrassment.
“Marisol, I know you didn’t say something mean on purpose, but how do you think those words make your brother feel? Especially since he was trying to do something nice for you.”
I didn’t know if my admonishing his sister made the moment better or worse for Deck, but at least it would make her think twice before saying something similarly careless in the future.
Marisol’s face fell. “I didn’t mean… I wasn’t trying to say anything bad about Artie.” She looked helplessly at Deck.
“It’s okay, little squirt,” Deck said quickly, reaching out to ruffle her hair. “I shouldn’t have tried to fool you anyway with the words. You’ve got all those books memorized, right?”
“Right.” Her grin returned.
“Reading’s just not my thing, hermana . But maybe I can teach you to ride my old bike someday.”
Marisol wrinkled her nose and giggled. “Don’t be funny, Artie. You know I’m not allowed to play outside.”
She returned to her books, unaware she’d just sent an arrow through her brother’s heart. Even though Deck preferred not to be left alone with Marisol, he still loved her fiercely. I could only imagine what the reminders of her limitations did to him.
“Maybe someday, squirt,” he whispered, giving me a searching glance before bolting toward the door.
I watched from the kitchen window as Deck headed into the street. Johnny walked over from the direction of our trailer park with Eliazar close behind him. A moment later, Cruz drove up in his silver Escort, and the four of them took off to who-knew-where.
“Can we finish Jesse Owens?” Marisol asked my back. I turned and nodded.
“Yeah, but let’s go in the living room. You’re right. It’s more comfortable there.”
We sat on the couch and finished the Jesse Owens biography for kids, before moving on to Babe Ruth and Mary Lou Retton. Marisol loved reading about famous athletes. I imagined it was her way of being into sports since she couldn’t play.
But perhaps she would one day. She wouldn’t always be so fragile. Deck hadn’t been completely off base in suggesting she might ride his old bike one day.
Maybe then he could forgive himself.