Chapter Ten
Aveline
THE NEXT HOUR passed by in an uncomfortable silence. I tried hard to study, but Ricky was an overwhelming presence on the other side of the table. Not only physically, what with his height and muscular frame, but his general demeanor took up space. He vibrated with emotion—what emotion, I couldn’t tell right away. Having parents who didn’t speak, I wasn’t able to rely on tone or intonation to help me understand anger, sadness, happiness, or excitement. I learned to tune into body clues to understand physical signs of emotion. And Ricky wore his emotions in spades. I recognized anger, quite possibly frustration. And, excitement. Like he was pleased to be with me.
Unbelievable, but true.
“Are you ready for the exam on Friday?” Ricky asked, his words were forced and stilted, almost like he had practiced the question in his mind before asking me.
I smiled at him, hoping to calm any nerves he had. I was sure I hadn’t caused him to be nervous, but perhaps he had anxiety over exams?
“Yes, I think so.” I glanced at my watch. I needed to head home or my parents would arrive before me. And that would not go over well.
“I have to head home now.” I stood, closed my laptop and gathered my phone and water bottle.
“Me too.” Ricky grabbed his notebook and pen, shoving them into his bag and rounding the table next to me. “I’ll go with you.”
I didn’t answer, focused on walking straight, not bumping into a table or a person on my way out the door.
Outside the sun was low, signaling the end of another monotonous day. At least, it had been until Ricky showed up.
“When do you graduate?” Ricky walked beside me, clutching the strap of his backpack over his shoulder.
I trudged faster to keep pace with his long strides. “I graduated in December. How about you?”
Ricky slowed his steps. “Why are you here if you already graduated? Why are you taking this class?”
We entered the student parking garage and I turned toward my car. “I graduated with a bachelor’s degree from an online university. This is my first class on an actual campus. I’m trying to decide if I want a master’s degree program or to start working. My dad suggested picking a class that interested me while I figured myself out. For fun, you know?”
Ricky’s deep brown eyes narrowed. “No, not really. I don’t know what that’s like. I’m finally graduating with an associate’s degree after taking classes for four and a half years part-time. I work a couple of jobs, so I can’t maintain a full class schedule.”
My chest tightened when I realized how my words must have sounded to him—like I was an entitled brat. That I had the luxury of taking classes for fun when he could barely graduate because of his workload.
I stopped by the trunk of my car, facing Ricky. “That must be tough. Balancing work and school.” Sympathy laced my voice, but that seemed to irritate him more. He bristled, his back straightening.
“I’m fine. I got it handled.” He looked over my shoulder, his eyes closing for a brief moment before he focused on me again. “Thanks for studying with me. Can I get your number? Maybe we could meet up again?”
My heart was racing from his initial reaction, fearing I had continued to upset him, but it slowed as he asked for my number. “Sure.” I smiled, waited for him to pull out his phone, then started calling out my phone number.
Ricky studied his phone, his long fingers entering the numbers. “Got it.” He looked up and gave me a half smile. “Drive home safe.”
He waited until after I got in my car and closed the door before walking to his bike across the way. I listened to the engine roar to life before I reversed, pulling out of my spot.
Ricardo Martinez was one complicated guy.
I could only hope that I got the chance to figure him out.
* * *
I HAD BARELY slipped off my shoes and made it into the kitchen when my Mom’s garage door went up. She strode in a minute later carrying a grocery bag.
“Hi, Mom.” I signed before kissing her on the cheek. “Are you cooking tonight?” Cooking was a rarity in this house. If my mom was cooking, she had something to talk to me about. I had found that Mom would plan a longer meal to prepare to give us time to be together in the kitchen and talk about whatever issue was plaguing her.
“Hello, sweetheart.” Mom signed back. “Chicken and pasta. A home cooked meal tonight. Sound good?”
I nodded, pulling open the fridge to grab a bottle of her favorite wine. I held it up and she nodded, smiling at me.
While I uncorked the wine and poured it into glasses, Mom unpacked the food and started preparing our meal. Once the chicken was in the pan, she faced me. “Dad has a meeting tonight, and I wanted to talk to you. Dad mentioned that you were asking about the accident? The man who saved you? Why is that?”
I sipped my wine before placing the glass on the counter. “I’d like to thank him and find out what happened to him. Wouldn’t you?”
Mom’s eyebrows drew together, and she frowned as she read my words. “No. I want to forget about it. That was the worst day of my life. I hate being reminded of it.”
My stomach sank. I was sure it was difficult for my parents to think about that day, but they weren’t the ones that were hurt. I was. The man that saved me was. Not them.
“Mom.” I waited for her full attention. “The psychology class I’m taking now is about personality. How the person that you are is formed. I was chosen to talk about a traumatic experience in front of the whole class. Of course, I told them about my accident. I realized I had never said the words out loud. Once I did, it hit me hard.” My fingers flew as I worked out my words as fast as possible.
Her back stiffened, her jaw hanging slack for a moment. “That professor had no right to do that. What happened to you is private. Our business, not hers.” Her fingers moved in hard, angry, jerky movements.
I placed a hand on her arm and asked my mother, “Why? Why does it scare you to talk about it?”
She only shook her head, dismissing my question. Turning away she flipped the chicken and added the noodles to the pot of boiling water. When I had her attention again, I pressed on, changing the subject to one I’d been gathering the nerve to broach with her. “I’m ready to get a full-time job. I’m completely certified and ready to work. I could start tomorrow if I got a position. It’s time.”
Her eyes widened, and she shook her head back and forth, faster this time. “No! You need to get a graduate degree first. You are still young, Aveline. Innocent. You aren’t ready for a job, yet.”
“I am!” Blinking back the hot tears that formed in the corners of my eyes, I attempted to stand up to her. To change her mind. “It’s you that isn’t ready, Mom. You need to—”
“Enough!” The word was signed with the force of a scream. Mom’s eyes flared wide, her breath coming in pants. “That’s enough. Why would you want to worry your father and me? The world is too scary. Too dangerous. Look what happened to you. We need you to be safe. Here, with us.” She turned her back to me, facing the oven and ending our talk.
Blood raced through my veins, the sensation of anger one that I had never associated with my parents.
But I was truly angry. Furious. At twenty-one years old, I had no voice in my home. And after a day like today, one where possibilities and excitement quite literally ambled right up to my table, I was tired of fearing the unknown.
I was ready to live my life, fully and unafraid.
For the first time ever.
* * *
DING.
My phone pinged with a text and my heart picked up in speed. Looking down, I saw the name I had been praying would be there.
Ricky.
“Do we have to study past chapter 4?” he texted.
He wasn’t one to beat around the bush. I grinned and returned his message. “Hi. How are you today? It was nice to meet you yesterday. And no, she isn’t covering chapter 5 on next week’s test.”
I’d try to guide him through some light texting conversation.
“Thanks,” was the only reply.
That was it? I guess he only wanted a study partner and not a friend. God, I wan—no, I needed a friend.
I looked down and saw dots moving in the text box. He had more to say. I did a little chair dance while I waited.
“I’m good. Ready for the test, I think. How are you?”
I returned his message, “Great! Thank you. :)”
Pressing send, I immediately typed more. I wasn’t sure why, but my fingers moved of their own volition. “Thinking about applying for my first job.”
The little dots danced across the bubble, alerting me that Ricky was writing back.
“Your first job? Aren’t you like 22? You’ve never worked before?”
I frowned. I sounded like a brat again. Ricky was obviously a hard worker. I worked very hard at my studies, but still. Yikes.
“I know it sounds bad, but I’ll explain it to you sometime. Anyway, my mom is against it. I’m not sure what to do.”
“Your mom is against you working??”
“My mom is… protective.”
“Right. But you’re an adult. You should do what’s right for you, not for anyone who wants to hold you back.”
I bit my lip as I re-read his words. The bubble showed he was writing me again and I held back a giggle. I had never done this before, texting with a hot guy. Whether or not Ricky Martinez wanted it, I was going to be his friend. That little bit of communication stirred desire in me to push harder, to want more. Not only from him, but from… me.
“Just my two cents. I have work tonight, myself. See you tomorrow.”
“Night, Ricky.”
The grin that Ricky’s texts formed wouldn’t leave my face. Not while thinking about my parents, the accident, my job, or our test.
Smiling like that might be addictive. Something about Ricky made me think he could cause all kinds of addictions.
A girl like me desperately needed to experience him.
An hour later, I did something daring.
After I clicked the send button submitting my application, I suppressed my squeal. I had applied to Indiana Public Schools as a Sign Language Interpreter. I wasn’t sure what my chances were of landing the job, but it was a start.
I closed my eyes that night still smiling as the blossoming feeling of freedom spread through me.