EXCERPTS
The curly-haired man gave him a side glance as they looked at one another, during a brief moment of surprised recognition.
‘It is unmistakable,’ Aki thought, ‘but how unlikely’. The idea of the past creeping back into his life, even in this little way, gave Aki the chills.
Chills that lasted longer than he cared to admit.
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He keeps thinking about the time he almost got swallowed up. Chewed and mangled and torn apart… Pieces of his former self that got left behind and returned in scraps, refined and reformed.
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“I definitely am a dog person. Don’t like cats. No offense!” Aki said, lifting his hands up, and she laughed again, gently, moving closer to him on the couch.
“You look like a dog person. Like you take early morning walks before the sun even rises and give your dog bottled spring water and only the best kind of fresh formulated ingredients for it to eat…” Sera moved in so close their legs were touching, and Aki grinned.
“And I bet you just buy any old dog food off the shelf,” Aki added sarcastically, and Sera laughed heartily.
“Well, what about your family? Do they like animals?” Sera asked, taking a healthy sip of wine.
Aki smiled in a forced way and sighed. “Well, don’t have much in the way of family to really speak of. I grew up in the foster care system. Jumped from home to home.”
Sera nodded in understanding. “Anyone who was your father figure? Mom role? Auntie? Sister?”
“Hmmm. Maybe. Maybe a brother. But that’s it. But it’s completely different now, we don’t speak. And it is for good reason.” Aki pressed his lips together tightly in a nervous way as he gripped the stem of his wine glass, looking away from Sera, and though he was keenly aware that she was watching his every move, he didn’t feel the need to explain anymore.
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Ever since, the two have had a running joke of Dan being the owner, and firing her for extremely petty reasons, only to hire her again as Vice President or co-owner, making her laugh every time.
This time, he leaks that he’s going to have a date tonight.
“Oh, a date!” Elisa says with a huge smile.
Dan feels his cheeks warm up. “Well… not officially. It’s a get-together. I am making them dinner.”
“How lucky for them!” Elisa uses the same pronoun she heard, not wanting to assume anything, as the first thing she wanted to say was, ‘Oh, what a lucky woman!’ and then realized New York was a bit more progressive than other states, other places in general, and especially more progressive than Rwanda.
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“Dan…”
“Yes?”
Their hot breath collides in the cool air.
“Do… you wanna see me do it?”
Dan’s green eyes tremble and widen. “You mean… see you get pretty?”
Arturo laughs, cutting the tension. “Hah. Never heard it like that. But, yea.”
Arturo gets up then stops a moment.
“Why are you so cool with all of this? With me?”
Dan gets up and kisses Arturo on the cheek.
“Cause of that.”
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Manuel never hung up the phone, never: He considered that a womanly thing to do, something “bitches did,” and he was not a bitch.
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“Well… How’s Papi?” Arturo asks in a slightly timid way. His father’s health has been slowly deteriorating, and the discussion about his health has always been a real trigger point, as he is an alcoholic who nurses hidden bags of whisky and tequila in hospital beds. His mother would bring them in at his request.
“He’s sick. In and out of hospital.” She sighs. “Tiene… neumonía…” she trails off. “Yes. That’s what his doctor said it is.”
Arturo sighs sadly. “¡Ay, Mami! I’m so sorry. I hope he’s better soon.”
“Come visit.” She sounds like she’s rustling through papers and says, “Tus hermanos vienen este mes.”
“Uh, I might. I’ll see what I can do. Is Papi around to talk?”
“No, he’s… foquiado. Gordo, you must come.”
Arturo rolls his eyes at the familiar nickname. ‘Gordo’ means fat. It is said in an endearing way, but, still, he hates it. It feels like she’s making fun of him (even though he isn’t fat). He was, however, overweight as a teenager and child.
“Okay, I’ll see. So Papi is sleeping in? I’ll speak to him–” He walks over to the kitchen, stepping on the remote that had accidentally fallen on the floor. Reminds him of Dan, who often fights over the remote with him, and he blushes. “¡Juemadre!” he exclaims.
“Language, Arturo!” his mother yells.
“That’s not even a bad word, Mami!”
“No arguments!”
There’s a pause, and he closes his mouth tightly. She says in a bit of an agitated, expectant tone, “Yes, he’s sleeping. ¿Tienes novia?”
Arturo sighs heavily at the familiar question of him finding a girlfriend, “Um? No, not yet.”
“Ay. Okay, , I love you. Let us know… when you are ready to come.”
Arturo nods, feeling his heart tremble. “Okay, Mami. Love you too.”
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“What’s your name, sweetie?” The man said over the loud blaring music from the overhead speakers.
The curly-haired doe looked over and frowned, “No one.”
A loud laugh, and a touch on the arm. “You are definitely someone; look at how you wear those heels with such grace.” His eyes looked up and down and up again, making the curly-haired doe feel uncomfortable. As though he was being sized up for something terrible.
The young man stepped back, no longer dancing. “I’m not interested.”
As he walked away, the other guy called out, “I’m not interested in what you think. Come over here and let me properly introduce myself so I can buy you a drink. We can discuss business. Man to man.”
This got the heel-wearing doe’s attention, and now it was time for the attack as he bought the new star, quietly self-introduced as Arturo, several whiskies and tonics.
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Knowing that you are being stalked is not the same as feeling that you are being stalked.