“How old were you?”
“Ten? Eleven?”
God. I couldn’t imagine working that young.
“It was better for Benny,” she said. “By the time he was ten, Mom had a good-paying job and I was working at Starbucks and waiting on tables. I’m glad he had it easier.”
I was glad he did too. But I hated that she’d struggled.
I would do anything to keep her from struggling.
We made our way onto the bike path that led back to the house. The moon was out. We were walking under some trees along the river, and I slowed a bit so it would take longer. When we got home, she’d probably go to bed, and then I wouldn’t see her until tomorrow.
“So where was your dad in all this?” I asked.
She breathed in through her nose. “Gone. My parents divorced when my mom was pregnant with Benny. I haven’t seen my dad in almost thirty years.”
“Where is he?”
She shrugged. “Back in El Salvador? I don’t really know. I don’t care. I think he has like, a whole other family. Anyway, Mom always had more than one job until she started nursing. Then she got hired by these rich white people when their grandma got too old to live alone. They trusted her. Mom took care of that lady for six years. She was really good at it. When the lady died, she left my mom some money. Mom used it to help put me through school and buy the house we’d been renting. The one I’m in now.” She looked at me as we walked. “Anyone who says money isn’t everything has never had to live without it.”
We walked for a moment in silence.
“Well, I still wouldn’t punch you in the face,” I said. “But I would work hard enough so you’d always have everything you need. I’d go hungry so you could eat.”
She gave me an amused look. “I wouldn’t let you go hungry for me,” she said.
“I know. That’s why I’d never tell you.”
“You wouldn’t tell me?”
“The truest sacrifices are the ones no one knows anything about.”
She paused. “Jacob, you are too pure for this earth.”
I laughed a little.
She glanced over at me with a small smile. “You know, I actually believe that you’d do that, and most of the time when men say valiant things, I don’t.”
I looked down at the paved path. She had no idea the things I would do for her.
“Given this backstory, I’m a little surprised that it was me and not you naming our kid Xfinity to save money,” I said.
“I would gladly sacrifice myself, but I’d never sacrifice my kid,” she said. “The whole point is to give them a better life than the one you had.”
“She could have a good life named Xfinity.”
“Yeah, but maybe she’d have a great life named something normal, like Ava.”
I smiled. “Okay,” I said, glancing at her. “We’ll name her Ava.”
She twisted her lips into a smile. “Good. Ava Xfinity—Ortiz. I’m not taking a man’s last name, and I’m not letting my kids do it either.”
“You didn’t take Nick’s last name?” I asked, glancing at her.
“I did. And then I had to change it back. When Mom got married, she took my dad’s last name too, and then she had to change it when he left, which meant she changed my last name also, which was of course her dad’s last name. I’ve had three different last names in my lifetime and it’s all been to carry on some stupid patriarchal tradition. I will never do it again.”
I shrugged. “Okay. I’ll take your last name, then.”
She laughed, but I wasn’t kidding. I glanced at her. “You know, if you really wanted to show Amy, we could drag this on a little longer. Maybe say we’re engaged. Get married. Have a few kids.”
Live happily ever after…
“Ha. Don’t tempt me. I’m petty and I love a long con.”
I chuckled. My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out and checked the screen. Jill.
“Hold on, I have to take this. Jill?” I said, answering the phone.
“Where are you?”
“Wakan. With Briana. Why?”
“I’m at your house.”
I grinned. “Hold on.” I put the phone on speaker. “Okay. Can you repeat that?”
“Uh, I’m at your house?”
I looked at Briana. “So what you’re saying is, you’ve come to my home unannounced and uninvited to see me at a very late hour.”
“Uh, yeah. Why? I do it all the time. I need to borrow your bread maker.”
I gave Briana an I-told-you-so look.
“I’ll be home tomorrow,” I said.
“Ugh. Fine. Also, Jane left a bag of coffee on your porch. Tell Briana I said hi.”
I hung up with her and smirked at Briana. “Jill says hi.”
“You bake your own bread?” she asked.
“Really? That’s what you took from that phone call?”
“Okay, I get it,” she said. “They come over a lot and you’re worried they’ll find out I’m not living there. I’ll just come over a lot too.”
“And if they poke around?”
“Why would they poke around?”
“Because they’re nosy and bored and they lack boundaries.”
“So I’ll leave stuff there. I’ll put a box of tampons under the sink. Leave a bra draped over a chair.”
I shook my head. “Not good enough.”
“Jaaacob,” she whined. “I can’t stay at your house. I’d feel horrible.”
“Why?”
“Because you like your alone time.”
“No I don’t,” I said quickly—too quickly. I cleared my throat. “I roomed with Zander for almost six years. I don’t mind living with someone.” The right someone…“I think letting my family see us living together is a good idea,” I said.
She glanced at me. “You do?”
“Yeah. It means we’re serious. I never lived with Amy.”
She pulled her face back. “You didn’t? Why not?”
“Because being around her that much wore me out,” I said.
“And being with me that much wouldn’t wear you out?” She gave me a look that called bullshit. “We work the same shift. We’d literally be together twenty-four/seven.”
I know. “If I’m being completely honest, it would not wear me out to have you with me that much,” I said.
“You’re just saying that so I don’t feel bad that I’ve pigeonholed you into either living with me or explaining to your family why the living-together thing didn’t work out.”
“I’m saying that to you because it’s true.”
She went quiet for a moment. “Have you talked to Amy recently?” she asked.
That was an odd question. “I talked to her for a bit yesterday at the luau.”
“Oh yeah? When?”
“When I went inside,” I said.
She nodded at the trail. “What’d you guys talk about?”
I let a long breath out through my nose. “It was an argument, actually.”
“About what?”