“Okay, I wasn’t sure about him, with the whole carry-you-down-the-stairs thing, but…babe.”
It was after enchiladas, copious margaritas (the girls, Buck even allowed Tatie to sip at one, and not a virgin one), beers for the boys (even Gear) and getting-to-know-you chitchat.
And it was the end of the night.
We were standing outside by Damian’s truck.
I was with Tia.
Buck and Damian were giving us space, talking a few feet away.
And I knew what her babe meant.
She approved of Buck.
“I’ll share the whole story one day, when it’s just us,” I told her. “It started crazy and I wasn’t paying attention. He loves me, though, Tia. And this time, it’s the real thing.”
“It’s not just the real thing. It’s that house. It’s those kids who think you walk on water. It’s the way his face changes every time you laugh. No.” She shook her head as that sparkle started again in my belly. “It’s everything.”
“Yes,” I whispered.
And it so was.
“I’m so glad you have that,” she decreed.
I glanced at Damian.
“And I have what I have too. We’ve both scored,” she stated. “Who woulda thunk?”
I smiled at her, even if I wasn’t sure about Damian.
Yes, his face changed when she laughed too.
Yes, he seemed super into her.
But no, I remembered her words about his rootless life and that they’d made no promises to each other.
I had future marriage and babies and all things Buck, Gear and Tatiana to look forward to.
Tia?
Not so much.
“Ready, honey?” Damian called.
“Ready!” she chirped on a cute jump.
Then again, at least she had what she had now.
And her future…
Well, I’d be around whatever that might bring.
We said our good-byes and Buck and I watched them drive away, Tia waving, me waving back, Buck not waving, but holding me against his side with his arm around my neck.
When their brake lights could no longer be seen, Buck turned me to the steps and led me into the house.
Gear was in the den, playing some computer game.
Tatie was in her room, light on, door open.
I went to the kitchen to tidy up margarita glasses while Buck headed to the living room to grab spent bottles of beer.
“Was a good night,” he said.
“The best,” I replied happily.
I felt his eyes on me, but I didn’t look at him.
I had to get used to happy.
He had to get used to making me happy.
Because life was going to get hard again somewhere along the way.
But we’d always have this.
Cleaning margarita glasses and picking up beer bottles with the kids doing their thing.
Happy.
His phone rang, and I looked at him when I heard it.
He was dumping bottles in the recycling at the same time checking his screen.
His gaze lifted to mine.
“Kristy,” he murmured.
Hells bells.
I nodded.
“Takin’ it in the office,” he said.
I nodded again, glad, whatever that would bring (although I wished he didn’t have to shoulder it, at least, after the night we had with my friend and his kids), the kids didn’t have to hear it.
He took off.
I finished with the margarita stuff and wandered to Tatie’s room.
I knocked on the doorframe, seeing she was in bed with her journal.
I also saw that, with just a little, we’d made a lot.
She had new tassel-trimmed sheets that were cute. A pretty tapestry tacked up behind her bed. Funky trays and stands on her dresser where she could put her jewelry. Some framed graphic art on her wall. One that was white and said No Bad Days in black. One that said Stay Rad in multi-colors. A smattering of throw rugs on the floor. Pretty square baskets she’d set on their sides to build a kind of shelving unit, in which she’d put her books and some knickknacks.
It was finally a teenage girl’s room. Eclectic, but lived-in and warm with lots of style.
I loved it for her.
I also loved she spent time there but did it with the door open. Not closing us out. But liking to be in her space, with the way open to her family.
“Hey,” she said. “I like Tia. She rocks.”
I smiled at her and took that as an invitation to walk in.
“Maybe we can talk her into going shopping with us tomorrow,” I suggested. “It’s never too early to think of Christmas.”
“So Clara,” she muttered as I sat on the side of her bed, her gaze on me and it was glittering. “All organized and shit.”
I shrugged.
“I’m not gonna say no to shopping,” she said. “But we should buy pumpkins and carve them.”
That sounded much better.
“I’m down with that.”
She grinned at me.
“You feel like talking?” I asked.
Her head tipped to the side, her lustrous hair tipping with it.
“About what?”
“Whatever you want,” I offered.
She looked at me, long and hard, before she patted the bed at her side.
I shifted and got in bed with her, both of us up against the headboard, legs out straight.
She looked at my hand.
Then she took my hand and fiddled with my fingers.
I didn’t know what to make of this, but I kept my silence and let Tatiana take her time in telling me.
Eventually, she whispered, “Don’t be mad.”
Oh boy.
I forced my tone to be light when I asked, “Mad about what?”
Her gaze came to mine and she kept whispering when she said, “I talk to Debbie.”
This was not what I expected.
“Sorry?”
“I mean, it’s never happened to you,” she said like it was a confession.
But I understood.
“Honey, I’m not mad you talk to Debbie.”
“You’re not?” Now she sounded surprised.
“Of course not, Tatie. I arranged it so you could meet so you’d have someone who got it to talk to. But beyond that, you’re free to do what you want, spend time with who you want, make friends with who you want, live your life how you want.” I paused and added, “Within your father’s rules, that is.”
She seemed bemused.
“So you’re not mad that I lean on Debbie and not you?”
All right, maybe I wished I’d got another smack in with her mother that afternoon.
Tatiana totally didn’t know how to do this.
I’d never even had a mother and I knew more than she did.
“No, I’m not mad. Not even a little bit. I’m glad. I’m glad you have someone to talk to about what happened to you. I’m glad you have people who care about you and you know it. I’m glad you have anything that makes you happy or makes you feel protected or looked after and loved.”
“Okay,” she said softly.
“Can I ask you a question?” I requested.
“Shoot,” she invited.
“Why didn’t you do up your room before we did it together?”
After I asked this, her eyes moved around the room.
And when she spoke, she spoke to the room.
“We moved up here, way before they broke up. Dad wanted to make the move before Gear and me got deep in school so we didn’t move when we were in the middle of making friends. But I think mostly,” she turned her head to me, “he did it to give Mom a cool house. She was never happy with, like, anything. Dad liked to be around his brothers. He didn’t wanna be on the road goin’ back and forth to home when he could be with his family. But Mom was always talkin’ about havin’ land. Dad getting us a cabin somewhere so we could ‘escape.’ So he found this and got it. For her.”
“All right,” I said when she stopped and said no more.
But she was watching me closely again.
And she explained why when she asked, “That doesn’t upset you? That he bought this place for Mom?”
“No. It’s his now. So, no,” I answered.
“I did up his room, after they split,” she said like this was gravely important. “The whole thing. The bed isn’t even the same.”
I took control of her hand, which was still holding mine, and gave it a squeeze.
“Your mother doesn’t factor in our lives in that way, Tatie,” I promised, then grinned. “Though, you have good taste. I always wondered why your dad’s bedroom was so fantastic.”
She grinned back.
“That said, honey,” I went on, “it doesn’t explain why you didn’t claim your room. You’d been living here—”
“They broke up when I stopped being a little girl.”
I closed my mouth.
She carried on.
“It was Dad. He has sisters. He said my little girl room had to go. And it was pink, Toots, pink with lots of purple and some glittery stars and other shit Dad thought a little girl would like. And I did like it when I was a little girl. He moved it all out, repainted, got new furniture and they split up and…and…” she drew in a visible breath, “and I guess I didn’t have anybody to help me fix it back up.”
Her fingers twisted so they were threaded through mine.
And she finished on a whisper, “Now, I do.”
“Now, you do,” I whispered back.
And now, I did.
I had a girl to help fix up her room and sit on her bed and talk about stuff.
And to love.
I didn’t have that myself, when I was a little girl, or a teenage one.
But I got to give it to Tatie.
And for me, that worked.
In a big way.
“My room sucks at Mom and Knuckles’ place,” she told me.
Hopefully, soon, that would be a memory.
“Well, you have your space here,” I unnecessarily reminded her, since we were lounging in it.
“Yeah, I got a lot here,” she said.
Uh-oh.
I was going to cry.
“Toots, don’t,” she begged. “’Cause I’ll start bawlin’ with you and your friend is sweet and I’m glad she’s back, safe and sound, and her man is hot and they look happy and it’s all good.” Her hand shook mine. “Yeah?”
I nodded, but said, “I’m supposed to reassure you.”
“Well, I get to do it sometimes too,” she retorted.
“Hate to break this up, my two girls,” Buck said low from the doorway.
We both turned our attention that way.
And yes.
Buck standing there looking like someone handed the world to him on a platter just seeing his woman and daughter talking together.
It was all good.
“Talk to you a second, Toots?” he asked. “Then you can come back.”
“I’m gonna hit the sack,” Tatiana announced. She then leaned into me, kissed my cheek, and said in my ear, “Love you and love you worry about me, but I’m okay. I get in a bad place, I call Debbie. She’s, like, my after-assholes-fuck-with-you sponsor.”
I pulled back, stared in her eyes, and tried really hard not to take her in my arms because I figured I might crush her to death with what I was feeling after she told me she loved me.
“Good, baby,” I whispered. “Sleep tight, yes?”
She nodded.
I kept whispering.
“Love you too.”
Her eyes got bright with tears, we both squeezed our fingers, held tight for the second it took her to get a lock on it, let go, and I got out of her bed.
I walked to Buck, saw he had some papers in his hand, but with his other, he grabbed mine and called to his girl, “Sleep good, honey.”
“Thanks, Dad. ’Night.”
We both bid our goodnights as she swung her legs to the side of the bed, probably to get up and change into pjs.
Buck led me to our room.
He closed the door behind us.
He then took me to the end of the bed.
“Was she a bitch?” I asked after Kristy and did it quietly.
“First, this,” he said, lifting the papers up and shaking them.
I turned my attention to them and saw, even with the shaking, they were my credit card bills.
I’d left them in the office.
Oh dear.
I shifted my gaze back to Buck.
“Buck—”
“I can pay these off in fifteen minutes online,” he declared.
Yes, I was right.
Oh dear.
“West…no,” I refused carefully.
He dropped his hand with the bills in it.
“I have to do it,” I told him.
“Babe, I figure with all that happened today, you get what’s goin’ on here.”
“I do, honey, but I have to pay those.”
“We’re partners in this, and by ‘this,’ I mean everything.”
Yeesh.
Was I going to fall in love with him more every day?
Every hour?
Every minute?
“Will you listen to me?’ I asked.
“Fuck yeah, I’ll listen to you, and you don’t have to ask.”
Yes.
I was going to fall in love with him more every minute.
“I need to pay those,” I asserted.
“Clara—”
“West, I need to pay those.”
He stopped talking.
His gaze moved over my face.
Then he tossed the credit card statements on the bed, watched them fall, and turned back to me.
“Right, then, choose the one with the lowest balance. Focus on it. Pay monthly on the others, five, ten dollars more than the minimum payment so you’re doin’ something to draw down the balance. Sock everything else you got at the one with the lowest balance. Once that’s paid off, sock everything you got to the next lowest one. You’re payin’ as much as you can, spreadin’ that out along four of ’em. That’s going to draw this out for-fuckin’-ever. You get one outta the way, you got more to throw at the next. And then again. And again. And it’s done. Yeah?”
That was very smart.
So I said, “Yes.”
“Then you cancel two of ’em. No one needs four credit cards.”
I nodded.
He was definitely right about that.
“Since we’re…you know, this is happening, I’d like to contribute to the house.”
His face shut down and he said, “Babe.”
“West, I love that you want to take care of me, but you need to get that I don’t need it. What I need is to be a partner in our lives. I also need you to let me.”
“Okay, Toots, and what I need is to take care of you. You won’t let me pay those.” He jerked his head to the statements. “You don’t do dick for yourself because you pay those, and you buy treats for the office, and you send money to help cover Mrs. Jimenez. You deal with those.” He jerked his head to the statements again. “You do it on my plan, you’ll be down to two in four months. You get down to those two, and start doin’ shit for yourself, buyin’ pumice scrub or whatever the fuck, we’ll talk about how you can contribute to our lives.”
That sounded…
Like a plan.
“That’s a plan.”
“Thank fuck,” he muttered, clearly thinking he’d get backtalk.
I didn’t comment on that.
I prompted, “Kristy.”
He’d gone unfocused, such was his relief I didn’t argue with his plan.
But he focused then.
And his focus was a deep, intent, gleaming, magnificent focus.
Instantly, I read my man.
“Oh my God,” I whispered.
“I do not know the woman I just talked to,” he confirmed what I’d read. “But she wants me to call the school to start the transfer, and she says, once that’s sorted, we can move ’em down.”
“Oh my God,” I breathed.
“Yeah,” he said.
Suddenly, he caught my head in both hands and put his face in mine.
“I do not trust this shit, so I don’t wanna say anything to them. I told her I want that in writing. I want an emailed letter, I want it by tomorrow morning, with her printing it out, putting her goddamned signature on it and sending it to me. I’m still callin’ the school first thing Monday. But we don’t tell the kids until I got that email. You with me?”
I nodded mutely.
“Tatie good?” he asked.
I nodded again mutely.
“You gonna pass out, seein’ as you’re not breathing?”
“We’re getting the kids,” I whispered.
“Yeah,” he whispered back, that intent, gleaming magnificent look back in his eyes.
I caught his head like he had mine. I yanked his mouth down on mine. I kissed him hard.
Then I broke away, turning from him.
I bent over, pumped my arms rapidly at my sides, jerked up, then clapped silently, jumping up and down.
“Jesus, fuck, Toots, you are a dorky librarian,” he noted, smiling broadly.
“We get the kids, we get the kids, wegetthekids,” I chanted quietly.
He kept smiling.
“We get the kids, we get the kids, wegetthekids,” I repeated my chant quietly.
“Baby, don’t make me wanna fuck you. Both of ’em are still awake. You know we don’t fuck until they’re out.”
“We get the kids, we get the kids, wegeththekids,” I said yet again.
He burst out laughing, doing it hooking me by my neck, and I face planted in his chest because he made me.
I wound my arms around him.
He pulled me closer, smooshing my face in his chest.
I turned so I had my cheek to it instead.
Then, in the top of my hair, he whispered, his voice guttural.
“We get the kids.”
“Yeah,” I replied.
He held tight.
I did too.
And it was all good.