Chapter Twenty-One
Aveline
I DROVE TO Ricky’s home to make the same observations we did the day before.
Turning into an open space, I parked my car. The apartment complex I entered was in a low-income section of Zionsville. When Ricky had texted me his address, I was happy to learn he didn’t live inside Indianapolis city limits. Poorer areas of the city had much higher crime rates than the same type neighborhoods located in surrounding counties.
My positivity diminished the more I looked around. Ricky had warned me that our social classes were different. He was clear that he had to work in order to take care of his family, and that he had given up his chance at IU, but until I saw his neighborhood, his situation didn’t click.
Trash littered the sidewalks, no attempt at throwing in a receptacle could be seen. Children played basketball on a court with no netted basket and ran around a playground with only one working swing. Taking the entirety of the space in, there was no grass. Concrete covered every surface. Teenagers loitered near the buildings, puffs of smoke rising above their heads. A public bus pulled up and a crowd exited, wearing the uniforms of waitresses, janitorial staff, and other maintenance professions.
Opening the door, I swung my legs out, grabbed my purse, got out and closed the door. I locked my car with the key fob and trudged slowly toward building three.
Passing by a group of boys, dressed in dark muted colors, with beanie caps covering their heads, I heard a low whistle. I bristled, uneasy from the attention and not exactly sure why that was.
At that exact moment, the front door opened, and Ricky jogged out. My breath caught in my throat. His hair was down, blowing behind him as he jogged to me. Otherwise, he looked the same, wearing his usual jeans, t-shirt, and boots. But his hair. He looked carefree, and sexy as hell. My hands itched to run through those long locks and wrap them around my fingers. All nervousness fled from my body and a smile spread across my face.
He slowed his steps as he got closer, reading my expression, his creasing with confusion.
“What’s the smile for, mariposa? This neighborhood usually causes a scowl.” His lips curving up at the ends betrayed his sarcasm.
My head tilted back to look up at him, and I pressed my glasses farther up my nose. “Your hair,” I breathed out, my words coming in a puff of steam. “It’s down and it’s beautiful.”
Ricky’s eyebrows drew together, but his smile remained. He watched me as I ran a hand down the length of his long black locks.
“Aveline,” he whispered, pulling me closer to him.
“Is that your tutor, hombre?” One of the teenagers hanging by the entrance called out to Ricky.
Ricky straightened, pulling away from me with a look that I was sure was embarrassment on his face.
“Fuck off, Andre.” Ricky’s words came out in a snarl, and he grasped my elbow, leading me into the building.
We rode the claustrophobic, dirty elevator in silence to the third floor.
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I willed myself to be stronger. Of course he would be embarrassed to be seen with me. He was gorgeous, and I was… odd. Too small, too pale, too quiet, too shy, too plain.
But that kiss. Kisses, plural. I thought that might have meant something.
Buck up, Aveline. Just because he kissed you a few times, doesn’t mean anything has changed. He already told you he couldn’t be with you. Nothing has changed except that you want him even more.
Mortification grew inside my stomach, twisting and turning until I was sick, a light sweat forming on my skin.
The elevator came to a stop and the door opened. I exited first, dragging in large gulps of fresh air.
If Ricky picked up on my despair, he said nothing. I followed him down the hall and waited as he placed his hand on the doorknob.
“Aveline.” He took a deep breath and blew it out. “This is hard for me. Almost no one but family walks through this door. Our life is different from yours. I know that’s the reason for this project, but… please don’t make my sisters feel bad. No sympathy, okay. We know what our situation is, but I don’t want them to see any pity in your eyes.”
My face fell at his words. “I would never—”
He cut me off. “You are right now. What I’m asking you is tough. Just try, okay?”
I nodded. He opened the door, gesturing for me to go in first. I walked into a tiny entry way, an open kitchen to my left. Immediately my senses went on overload. Spanish music played in the background, and as I glanced in, two gorgeous girls danced around the kitchen, bumping hips and laughing as they moved to the beat. My eyes settled on a worn and well used kitchen, but one that was colorful and filled with the presence of these two lovely girls. And my nose? My nose was filled with the single most delicious scent it had ever encountered.
“Marcela, Teresa,” Ricky called out, placing his hand on the small of my back and guiding me into his kitchen. The girls stopped dancing, turning to me with warm smiles on their faces. “This is my partner in Psychology class, Aveline Gerard.”
“I’m Teresa.” The younger of the two girls held out her hand and we shook. Her hair was the same as Ricky’s, pulled back in a high ponytail. Her jeans hugged her curvy body and a plaid shirt was knotted at her stomach showing off a trim waist. She wore no makeup, but she didn’t need any. Her skin was the same rich, warm brown as Ricky’s, her eyes the same chocolate shade.
“I’m Marcela,” his other sister said, also shaking my hand. “May I get you something to drink?”
I shook my head, at a loss for what to say. Marcela, like her sister, was stunning. She also wore skin tight jeans and a fitted sweater, her hair braided down her back. She turned toward a refrigerator that looked like it was on its last leg. But what caught my attention were the pictures, notes, and cards that covered it. Colorful, and fun. Vastly different than the solid white behemoth that stood in my kitchen at home.
“What smells so delicious?” I asked, breathing deeply and trying to inhale all of the goodness in this room.
Marcela smiled, pulling a bowl of vegetables from the fridge. “Ah, arroz con pollo. It’s Ricardo’s favorite.”
Looking over my shoulder, Ricky’s face was tender as he watched his sisters cook. “We cook all of our meals in. My sisters do most of the cooking because Mama and I work.” He gestured to the paper in my hand, and I uncapped my pen to take notes.
Ricky opened a cabinet that housed various cans of applesauce, rice, beans, a single box of cereal, and some spices. “This is our pantry. Pretty meager, but our food budget isn’t much.”
I swallowed hard, giving Ricky a nod. Not much was an understatement. How did they feed a family with a pantry so bare?
“Come on, let me show you the rest of the place.” Ricky guided me out of the kitchen and to the right down a short hallway. “One bathroom.” I peeked in to see a single sink, toilet and bathtub shower combination. “My parents’ room.” He opened the door revealing a queen-sized bed with a simple comforter, a low dresser across from it. Nightstands flanked the bed and on one sat vials and tubes of many medications.
Was one of his parents’ sick? My stomach roiled at the thought. This family didn’t need more struggles.
“And our room.” Ricky opened the last door and I strode inside.
Our room?
Against one wall was a wooden bunk bed set and on the other a twin bed. Paper posters decorated the walls and a tall dresser stood along another wall. On top were inexpensive lotions and body sprays, along with framed pictures.
“The girls sleep on the bunk. I take the twin.” Ricky hooked his thumb over to the twin bed with the lumpy, pilled green comforter.
I sat down on the edge, suddenly weak, taking it all in. I lived in a giant house with fancy furniture and a bedroom all to myself that was three times the size of this room. A room he shared with his sisters. Growing up as teenagers without privacy in their own room? Our lives were more different than I understood.
What must he have thought when he saw where I lived? Sure, my parents were successful professors, but even I wondered how they got so wealthy. Money was never discussed in my home. It was never an issue or a concern. Here, in this home, there wasn’t enough to fill the pantry with essentials. How was any of this fair? Shaking my head, I brought myself back to reality.
Tacked to the wall next to his bed were pictures of Ricky. Some from dances and proms, all showing different dates. Many from football games, where Ricky stood in full uniform. But in almost all of the pictures, Ricky was with the same three guys.
“Who are they?” I asked, pointing to one of the pictures with Ricky and the other three had their arms slung around one another.
“My best friends. That’s Landon. He goes to USC in California. Studying to be a special education teacher.” Ricky’s voice was laced with pride.
“Tall one is Dean. He graduated early from IU and was drafted by the Chicago Bears. He’s engaged to a single mom with the cutest fucking son, Finn.” I could hear the smile in Ricky’s words at his description.
“The one with the shaved head? That’s my closest boy, Jon. He’s going to law school next year. And I’ll let you in on a secret. I’m pretty sure he’s in love with Dean’s much younger sister. Shit will hit the fan when Dean figures that one out.” Ricky chuckled, the sound so foreign to me that my heart beat faster.
“They look like great guys,” I whispered, not looking at the pictures at all, but focusing on the joy on Ricky’s face as he studied the photos.
Ricky turned to me, his smile fading. “You can see why I don’t even have these guys over much. Sharing a room with my sisters…” His voice trailed off and he shrugged, standing up and rubbing the back of his head.
I watched as his bicep bulged with the movement. Simply amazing. Like a perfectly cut statue to me, a Greek God from long ago that people would idolize and worship.
Standing too, I moved to him so that we were toe to toe. “Is brave and generous. You are giving and loving to your family. I’m humbled by it.” I said the words strong and true, meeting his gaze and sure there wasn’t a hint of pity in it. Not because I didn’t wish for more for Ricky, but because his situation was what it was. It was how he handled it that impressed me so much.
Ricky studied my face and when it seemed like he believed my words, he nodded.
“But now is the hardest part. I need you to meet my Papa.”