Wait for It

by Mariana Zapata

“Papá,” I started to say as I undid the lock and opened the door, my attention still on the living room behind me. “Not your daddy,” a low, unfamiliar masculine voice replied.

My mom had always said you could tell a lot about a person by their eyes. A mouth could be formed into a million different shapes, but eyes were the windows to a person’s soul and shit.

“If you’re interested and your mom lets you—” Bless Josh’s soul, he didn’t correct him. “—you should come by.”

“We can’t make any promises you’ll get on the team, but—” “I’ll get on the team,” Josh confirmed evenly, making me smile. What a cocky little turd. I could have cried. He was a Casillas through and through.

What a bunch of horny bitches. I think I already kind of liked them. They were funny.

“Somebody kicked ass,” I whispered to him as he approached us. Josh grinned, shrugging his shoulder. “I know.” I bumped him with my hip. “That’s my boy.” Louie even held up a hand, earning a high five from his big brother.

And as my little guy—as my guy, my Josh—there wasn’t an ass I wouldn’t whoop if I had to. For my kids, I would do anything.

But when Josh made his way toward me after practice, his eyes narrowed on the dads who were still sitting where I’d left them on the bleacher. He gave me this look that said he wasn’t amused by the two strangers sitting so close. He usually didn’t like men talking to me, and in this case, nothing had changed. “What do they want?” he asked immediately.

My grandma had told me once you couldn’t make someone love you or even like you, but you could sure as hell make someone put up with you.

if being nice doesn’t work, que todos se vayan a la fregada.

Josh laughed again, shaking his head. “You’re crazy.” “A little,” I agreed, winking at him, suddenly feeling whatever was left over of my rage disappear. How could you stay mad when you had so many great things in your life?

The small smile that crawled over his mouth was not the first, second, third, or fourth thing I would have expected coming from him. I would swear on my life for years to come that his eyes sparkled—but it was probably just the streetlight giving them that impression. Then he blinked.

“Is it bad? Did he do something to Ginny?” Trip hooted. “Not if he wants to keep livin’.”

I know I’m crazy. I already feel sorry for whatever poor bastard ends up with me some day, but he’ll know what he’s getting into. I don’t hide it.”

“Okay, maybe if he’s really nice to me and good to me, and I’m the love of his life, and he writes me sweet notes on a regular basis telling me that I’m the light of his life and he can’t live without me, I’ll give him ten women tops. Tops.”

His face went a little funny, a little smirk-ish before he squinted one eye. “You’re young, but not that young.” I choked out a laugh that I swore had a tiny smile curling Dallas’s mouth.

“Because she didn’t want you crushing my dreams and making me plan to spend the rest of my life alone?” “I think you might just be able to make a family man outta me if you tried,” Trip joked.

I LOVE TRIIIIP

He nodded, closing the distance between us quickly, his forehead going straight to my collarbone. I hugged him. “He never lets me play when he’s with his friends,” he whispered.

“I don’t wanna,” the little boy whispered, changing his mind all of a sudden. His arms slipped around my neck. His body went soft in resignation. “I got an Xbox at my house. I can bring it over and we can play.” Dallas’s suggestion had Lou and me both glancing over at the man still leaning against the counter. “You do?” “Sure do, buddy.”

Ugh melting

Lou took a step away from me. “What games do you have?” “Louie,” I hissed at him. Dallas smiled, his entire face bright and welcoming. I narrowed my eyes, taking in the way he went from good-looking to more like stunning by using the muscles around his mouth. What kind of trickery was this? “A lot of them,” he told him. “What do you like to play?” The little boy said the name of a game I wasn’t too familiar with, but Dallas nodded anyway. “I got it.”

“He’s got little butterfingers. Watch him.” “I’ll make him empty his pockets before we leave my house,” he said dryly, as he extended one of those big hands toward the little boy. “You can help me cross the street.” I watched Lou and Dallas walk out of the house hand in hand and it sent this terrible bittersweet grief straight through me. All I could think about was my brother and how I would never get to see him do that with Louie.

“Don’t take it personal, honey. His ex, or soon-to-be ex, whatever the fuck she is now, did a real number on him. It doesn’t have nothin’ to do with you,” he explained. I was being sarcastic when I asked, “What? She was a single parent too?” “Uh, yeah, she was,”

“Well, Josh might be sick too. Maybe you should ask from now on, no? You have to remember you don’t only take care of yourself now. You have to take care of them too. Pay more attention.”

My heart hurts at this

I’ll make sure to take your number off the contact list—” “No seas asi.” Don’t be like that, she said. How else could I be when she tore all the love, time, and effort I put into Josh and Louie to shreds in seconds?

“Umm, my little one is sick right now, and I’m not sure if Josh caught it or not.” “What’s wrong with Louie?” Dallas asked almost instantly about the little boy who had sat beside him—and a couple of times partially on top of him—for hours, playing some shooting game.

“Hi?” “J, it’s Di. You okay?” “Uhh, yeah, why?” He quickly added, “Are you okay? Is everything okay?” Here went another ton of guilt. I was such an idiot. “Everything is fine. Don’t worry. I’m sorry. Louie got sick and your abuelita had to go pick him up. I just wanted to check with you and make sure you’re feeling okay.” The long exhale out of him made my heart hurt. “I thought…,” he whispered, his relief evident. “I’m not sick, but you can come pick me up if you want.”

Tears real tears

“Love you too,” he whispered right before the line went dead. At least someone loved me.

Dont do this to me

She was Josh’s biological mom, but in all the ways that mattered, he was mine, and I would only share what he was willing to give. He had been mine before Mandy, and he was still mine even after Mandy. I was the one who helped bottle feed him after he’d been released from the hospital. I’d been the one who took turns with my brother waking up in the middle of the night when he cried. I had cleaned his dirty baby butt, bought him clothes, blended his food when he’d gotten off formula. I was the one who cried when my brother met Mandy and announced to my best friend and me that he was moving out and getting a place with her. I was the person who had missed the shit out of Josh when I didn’t live with him for those years their family had been together. Not Anita.

“Okay,” he said, damn near softly. Those hazel eyes locked on mine. There was only a tiny crease between his eyebrows then. “Okay,” he repeated on an exhale that seemed nearly painful. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

Josh had made me promise him something I would never take lightly that night after the funeral. You don’t ever have to see her again if you don’t want to, J. I won’t let her take you. I promise.

The four of us had sat around the coffee table with bowls and pieces of bread, Josh and Dallas talking about professional baseball nearly the entire time. Meanwhile, Louie and I had taken turns opening our mouths at each other when they were full of chili.

“That’s why I do it. I like the idea of being there for somebody who maybe doesn’t have anyone else around, teaching them what I didn’t have someone around to teach me.”

You never know when even a little bit of kindness might change someone’s life.”

I turned to face Dallas with another apology and assurance ready, but he beat me to it. He lowered his chin to say, “Don’t. I know neither one of you is doing anything, or coming on to me.” He met my gaze evenly, seriously. I couldn’t help it. “You’re sure?” “I’m sure.” I wasn’t completely convinced. “I promise. Cross my heart. I’m keeping my hands to myself, and the boys and I are fine the way we are. I’m not looking for a sugar daddy. I just don’t want you to hate me since we have to see each other all the time. Promise.” The man didn’t miss a beat, even the corner of his lip curled up as he murmured in that husky voice, “I know.” His mouth almost instantly went flat. “And I don’t hate you. I thought you wanted to be friends.”

“Tia, you can buy me socks if you want,” Louie added

“Your head still hurt?” he asked in that eggshell-like voice. I shrugged, wiping at the wet places on my skin. It did hurt, but it didn’t hurt worse than my heart right then.

I wasn’t some closed-off person who didn’t know how to share her feelings, but this was different. Way different than having someone overhear me arguing with my mom. I could come back from her words. I was scared I’d never be able to come back from the Rodrigo-sized gap my brother had left me with.

“I’m never going to get to see him again or mess with him again. He’s never going to shove my face into my birthday cake again or give me birthday licks. He was an asshole, but he was my asshole brother. And I want him back.”

“Well yeah. No one’s going to love them like I do. I’m the best of the worst.” I could say that. It was the truth. I’d pulled myself out of the hole I’d been in for them when other people hadn’t been able to, and it had only been because of that love for those two boys who had stolen my heart before they’d even been born, that I’d managed.

I smiled at him, probably the ugliest smile in the history of smiles, and he returned it faintly.

“I didn’t put him on the team. He earned it,” he explained. I eyed my neighbor as I wiped the last traces of tears from my face and sniffed. “He was the best one who tried out.” Dallas look at me for a moment, his hand going up to the back of his neck as he did it, and with a twist of his mouth, he smiled for the second time, closed-mouth and everything. He didn’t agree or disagree. Wuss. “It’s the truth.” His smile curved and grew, and I would swear on my life, his cheeks went a little pink. It made me grin even as my eyes felt bloated from crying so much.

Dallas raised his eyebrows but grinned that grin I’d only seen him give Louie. “If you say so.”

“Did he write my name on the invitation?” I couldn’t hold it. I burst out laughing. “Yes.” I could see the corners of his mouth twitch up a little more. “It said Dal-ass on it. That’s how he wrote it. D-a-l-a-s-s. Dalass.”

“Tío. ¿Me das una pierna de pollo, porfa?”

The fuck

“It’s okay,” I mumbled, swallowing an imaginary golf ball again. “I got it.” There was a pause. A sigh. “I know you got it, but I’ll help.” There was another pause. “I’m offering.” He’d used that soft, smooth tone that seemed so… inappropriate on his raspy voice, and it made me glance at him, sniffling. Since when had I become this person who was the annoying kind of stubborn and didn’t accept help? I hated people like that. “I wouldn’t want to take advantage of you,” I admitted. It was too dark to tell whether he was staring me down or not. “You’re not taking advantage. I’m offering. I’ve been up since five, and I’m about to keel over. All I’m asking is that you don’t make me stay up all night and half tomorrow morning cleaning up. We’ll do it first thing.”

He laughed, and the sound seemed to travel right along the sensitive skin at my neck. It had a beautiful, deep ring to it.

“Why does he call you Buttercup?” I laughed, remembering exactly why. “My brother used to call me that,

“You remind me more of Princess Peach.” I looked down at my shorts and tank top, and caught the ends of my multicolored brown hair courtesy of careful instruction to Ginny. “Because of my beautiful pink gown and blonde hair?” Dallas’s mouth went flat. “She’s surrounded by men, but she’s still herself, and she’s got her shit together on Mario Kart.” I couldn’t help but smile, taking in the sloping bone structure of his face and the way his mouth was shaped at a slant and said, “I always did think I should have been born a princess, Mr. Clean.” The choke that came out of him made me laugh. “Mr. Clean?” he eventually got out, all choppy and broken. Peeking at him, I shrugged and tipped my chin toward his head. “I have hair.” I squinted at him and hummed, trying so hard not to laugh. “Uh-huh.” “I shave it every two weeks,” he tried explaining. “Okay,” I coughed out, my cheeks hurting from the effort not to laugh at how bent out of shape he was getting. “It all grows in evenly—are you laughing at me?”

So I did what any adult would do—I put my hands over Louie’s ears. “He’s not going to kill us or anything, right?” I asked. Dallas blew out a breath as the corners of his mouth bunched into a frown. “I’d never let that happen,” he stated so evenly, so matter-of-fact, this ripple of who-the-hell-knows-what shot up the nerves of my spine.

“You smell like garlic.” “You smell like fart.” Louie choked like he couldn’t believe what I’d said before bursting out laughing, his hands busy holding several forks. “You’re mean!”