Echoes of Us Read online

  He squeezed my hands tighter and leaned forward. His eyes looked at me in a way I had never seen from him. “Because, Jo, I want to marry you when we’re older. I want to be with you forever. My daddy says best friends make the best husbands and wives, so it makes sense we would get married. This way we will always be together. Brothers and sisters can’t get married.”

  I nodded my head like he was making perfect sense. I did that a lot around him, but most of the time I didn’t feel like I understood. Cruz always seemed so much older than me, especially with the way he saw things. I chewed on my lip and thought about this as my heart stopped being squeezed and I could breathe again. He wasn’t saying he didn’t want me as a sister, just that he wanted me to stay his friend so we could marry each other. That made my heart squeeze in an entirely different way. I was eleven and a tomboy; I didn’t think about marriage and boys in that way. I especially didn’t think of Cruz in that way, or I hadn’t until he mentioned it.

  Now, I looked into his blue velvet eyes and pictured him as a man, a husband, and my young heart beat in a way it never had before. I pictured him kissing me the way his dad had just been kissing my mom and my breath became choppy. Cruz was a beautiful boy, even my grandma said so. She also said he would make panties drop when he was older, but I didn’t understand what she meant. I would discover what she meant eventually, and much to my frustration; her prediction would come true.

  I looked at my best friend and could easily picture a life with him by my side forever. If only the future me could go back and tell the younger me a few hard truths about our innocent plan, but those lessons had to be learned, as painful as they would be.

  I squeezed his hands back and told him, “That sounds even better than brother and sister. I want us to be together forever, too.” He gave me the most perfect smile, but I couldn’t smile back. Instead, I had to burst our bubble with reality, “But what if they get married, Cruz?”

  He shook his head and told me adamantly, “My dad loved my mom. He said there is only one woman he ever loved, and forever will.”

  I felt very sad for my mom and angry toward his dad. “What about my momma, then? What does it mean that he was kissing her?”

  “Maybe it doesn’t have to mean anything. I know my dad is lonely, and I’m sure your momma is too. Maybe they’re just friends?”

  I gave him a look and rolled my eyes. “Friends don’t kiss like that, and besides, they’re already friends.”

  He tipped his head as he thought about this and gave me a funny look. “Friends can kiss.”

  I was shaking my head when I replied, “Friends don’t kiss like that.”

  He shrugged his shoulder and asked strangely, “Why not?”

  I huffed and glared at him in all my eleven-year-old frustration. “They just don’t. You only kiss like that if you’re in love.”

  Cruz sat up straight and raised his eyebrow at me. “Really? And how do you know this, huh?”

  I gave him a haughty look in return. “Grammy. She told me I would know when it was love the moment I kissed a boy like I needed his lips to breathe.”

  Cruz gave me a disbelieving look, then burst into laughter. I was not amused. His laughter made me mad. I wanted to punch him so badly at that moment. Maybe I should have, instead of what I did next.

  With pain, anger, and confusion, the eleven-year-old me proved my point to Cruz - that a kiss between friends is not what we saw between our parents. So, with absolutely no finesse or thought, I lunged at my best friend, grabbed his laughing face and slammed my dry lips onto his soft, laughing ones.

  He stopped laughing immediately, and we both froze with our lips mashed between us,

  I watched his eyes widen, then flutter shut at the exact moment the kiss became something else entirely. He tipped his head slightly and changed the pressure in which his lips were touching mine. His touch was gentle, and he rubbed his soft lips against me slowly. I was holding my breath and every muscle in my body. I didn’t know what to do next. I hadn’t planned to kiss him and didn’t even know how you were supposed to kiss a boy. My lips felt stiff against him, but I was afraid to move. After a few delicate strokes, he moved his lips apart and placed them more firmly against my own. I pulled myself back with a gasp and knew instantly that friends should never kiss.

  Looking back now, it was barely even a kiss and more of a lip fumble, but to the child I was, everything about it confused my young mind, but one thing I knew for sure was that nothing about our innocent friendship would ever be the same

  The End of What’s Right

  The next few months were some of the happiest in my life.

  It turned out that mom and Cruz’s dad were definitely more than just friends, but nobody told us exactly what they had become either. They spent more time with each other, and we saw them kissing a lot more, much to my embarrassment. Grammy would smile when Cruz’s dad came around and whispered naughty comments under her breath. We had family dinners together, and sometimes Cruz stayed over with Grammy and me while my mom went out with Cruz’s dad. This would confuse me, but when I asked Grammy about it, she would tell me to “mind my business” and not to mention it to my mom. She said a woman is allowed to have secrets and the ones that involve someone as fine as Cruz’s dad were the best secrets. Eventually, I stopped asking and didn’t care. I got to have Cruz and Grammy to myself for a whole night when these secrets were taking place.

  Cruz and I never mentioned the kiss I so recklessly attempted, and that was perfectly fine by me, but even at ten, I knew it had changed us. Cruz became even more protective of me at school and I would find him looking at me funny sometimes. I pretended not to notice. Denial is a wonderful thing, but that kiss would become one of the defining moments of my life, and one of my greatest sources of comfort in the years to come.

  If moments are like sounds, then the moments that followed next were the loudest of crashes and thundering bangs. The pain of those moments still haunts me.

  Grammy was sitting in her favorite rocking chair, sipping on her brandy while Cruz and I played a game on the floor.

  “You cheated!” I yelled at my best friend.

  Cruz sighed and pointed to the dome that held the die. “How can I cheat when I can’t even touch it?”

  I hated losing, and I was not gracious about it. I had a competitive streak, which would serve me well. I rolled my eyes. I knew he couldn’t cheat, but I was committed to my accusation. “You didn’t push it all the way down, so it doesn’t count.”

  He shook his head at me, but asked, “You want me to push it again?”

  I nodded my head and waited with my breath held to see what number the die would show. Karma is such a bitch because it was the same number, which meant I lost. Being a budding diva, I huffed and glared at him. “This game is dumb. Grab another one, and this time, no cheating!”

  He gave me a dirty look of his own but packed up the game and went to grab another one from the cubby under the stairs where Grammy kept them. I watched him stomp over to the cubby and felt bad, but before I could get up and apologize, I heard the clunk of a bottle hitting the floor behind me.

  I turned around but couldn’t process what I was seeing.

  My grammy looked funny and her arm was shaking, the one that had been holding her brandy bottle. I ran over to her side and put my hand on her arm to stop the movement, but my arm was shaking too; from fear. Even at ten, I knew something was wrong. Her face seemed frozen on one side as she tried to say something.

  I leaned closer and heard her whisper, “Ambulance. Get your momma.”

  I knew the emergency number for an ambulance, but I couldn’t think. All I could do was scream Cruz’s name. He came skidding to a stop beside me and seemed to know exactly what was happening and what to do. Wise beyond his years, that boy was. He ran to the small phone in our outdated kitchen and dialed. I couldn’t even process any thoughts, but my senses were very alert. Isn’t it funny how we can remember a moment in time just from a
specific detail? I can still remember the feeling of her frail hand in mine, the smell of the brandy that had dropped to the floor, the sound of Cruz’s voice in the background, and the taste of the salt from my tears.

  Grammy was still trying to say something, but I knew I didn’t want to hear it, so I kept shaking my head. She was listed on one side of the rocking chair, so she was even closer. I couldn’t escape her whispered words and they still echo in my heart.

  With barely any breath, she said, “Your Grampy is calling me. My heart is going home, Jo. When you find the boy who holds your heart, you’ll understand. Look after your momma. You were one of my greatest joys, remember that.” My grammy was never one for sentiments, so her words told me more than anything, that this moment would impact me profoundly.

  What happened next is still a blur.

  I remember the sound of the ambulance, the look on my mom’s face when she came flying through the door with Cruz’s dad right behind her. I remember the feeling of arms holding me as I fell apart in fear and confusion as the ambulance took my grammy away from me, but mostly I remember the way my best friend, the only one I had left, held me in his bed later that night as my heart broke.

  I stayed with Cruz for the next few days as my mom made the arrangements for Grammy’s funeral. Cruz’s dad didn’t really know what to do with a broken little girl, but most men don’t know what to do in the face of such grief.

  Cruz was my shadow over those days, a silent partner in my pain. He had loved my grammy just as much as me, but he didn’t dwell on his own pain. No, he shoved it down deep and allowed me to focus on my own. How does an eleven-year-old even do that? How could he be so selfless? I sure wasn’t. I took everything he offered me and never thought about what he was feeling. I couldn’t. I was too broken.

  It was the night before the funeral, and I was still staying with Cruz. My mom told me I needed to come back to the house tomorrow, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to see all the imprints of Grammy in that house. I was being mean and selfish, but I didn’t care. I knew my mom was hurting, and she needed me, but I needed Cruz more.

  I was curled into a protective ball on Cruz’s bed and he was stretched out beside me, staring at the ceiling. We had been silent for so long, but he finally whispered, “What do you think your grammy’s forever place is like?”

  I sniffed back a few of my tears before I answered. “I don’t know.”

  He closed his eyes and said, “I picture a place where the sun is always shining. A place where there are no tracks and no mean people. I see a place where people are always happy and smiling, no matter what they look like or where they come from,” he sniffled himself before he continued, “And a place where my mom, your daddy, Grammy, and your grandpa, are all together waiting for us.”

  For the first time since my grammy left me, I felt a small smile on my face. “That sounds like a nice place.”

  He turned to his face, then reached out and grabbed one of my cold hands. “Jo, what happens now?”

  I wasn’t sure what he meant, so I asked, “What do you mean?”

  He blew some bangs out of his eyes before he answered. “I heard your mom and my dad talking. She said you guys have nowhere to live now. She said a man owns your grammy’s house and he won’t let you live there anymore.”

  My heart froze in my chest. Nowhere to live? I couldn’t wrap my young mind around it. That house was the only home I’d ever known. I knew I was stalling about going back there, but that was my home and I didn’t want to live anywhere else. Then a thought came, and I felt such relief that I smiled for Cruz. “We can just live here with you and your daddy, then.”

  I expected him to have a huge smile on his face too with my brilliant solution, but tears leaked from his eyes. “I said the same thing to my dad, and he said it wouldn’t be proper, and that your mom said a man is giving her a job and that you’ll be moving. Is that true?”

  All the feeling left my little body, and I felt numb. My mom had said nothing, not that I’d given her much chance to talk, but she would have told me that, surely. Cruz must be wrong. His daddy must be wrong. Everything was wrong, but somewhere in the pit of my stomach, I knew he must be right and that it must be true.

  I shivered from my nerves and Cruz moved over so he could hold me. I pressed my face tight against his chest and just breathed in the smell of sunshine and leaves from his shirt. The best smell in the world but it didn’t stop the fear and the pain.

  With a shuddering breath, I whispered, “I don’t want to go.”

  I could feel the subtle shakes of his chest against my face that signaled he was crying too. “I don’t want you to go either. What will I do without you?”

  I was crying now as I trembled in his arms. I could barely picture a world without my grammy in it, let alone one without Cruz. There was no me without Cruz, so how could I live a life without him?

  Eventually, he got himself under control and pulled back to look at me. His eyes were red and puffy, but they were still the prettiest eyes I had ever seen. “Promise, Jo, that we’ll still be best friends. Maybe you won’t move too far away, and we can still be together at school.”

  I stopped crying and realized that we would still be in the same school. There was only one public grade school on our side of the tracks, so it didn’t matter where we moved to, I would still have my best friend. “And your daddy can drive you to my new home and we can find new adventures to explore.”

  He smiled and nodded his head, “And when your mom has to work, she can bring you here.”

  I took an easier breath, feeling better already. “We’ll still be together.”

  He smiled at me and said, “Forever.”

  We were so wrong.

  The funeral wasn’t what I thought it would be. I watched TV; I knew how they were supposed to be, but Grammy’s funeral was nothing like the ones on the TV, well, some parts were.

  We sat in the small room while a man stood at the front and spoke of God and Heaven. My grammy’s casket was sitting off to the side. I had given her a kiss, but her skin felt weird and she didn’t smell the same. My mom told me it was still her, just that her body was different now. She explained that when the heart stops beating, the body stops living. I told her she was wrong because her heart was still beating for Grampy. My mom had to leave the room when I said that to her. I saw Cruz’s dad watch her leave, but he stayed with his son. I didn’t understand how he could kiss mom the way he did but couldn’t hold her the way Cruz held me when I cried. I figured it was because they weren’t best friends.

  I made sure no one was watching me, then I pulled out the small bottle of brandy I stole from the house that morning while Mom was getting ready. I tucked it under a silly white jacket they put on Grammy and patted her hand. “So, you and Grampy can have a drink later,” I whispered for her ears only. I took one last look at Grammy - even if she didn’t look exactly like my grammy - then sat in the seat my mom told me was mine. She came back and sat quietly beside me and took my hand, squeezing it tight. I wanted to hug her, but then the man spoke.

  After the short service in the funeral home, we drove to the cemetery where my grandpa was buried. My grammy was going in the ground with him now. I hoped the bottle didn’t rattle when they put her in the ground. I would probably get in big trouble for that. Cruz’s dad let him stand beside me while the same man talked about God and Heaven again, but Cruz’s dad didn’t stand beside my mom.

  Cruz held my hand when we both walked up to the casket to place our flowers. I went first and told Grammy I would do as she asked and that I loved her. Cruz placed his flower next and simply told her he would miss her. No one held Mom’s hand when it was her turn and I felt sad about that, so I tugged Cruz with me back to the coffin. He seemed to know exactly what I wanted, and we both took one of her hands. I hated Cruz’s dad in that moment, and that hate would grow and spread in the coming years as I watched my mom become a shell of the woman I knew, and the choices she would ultima
tely make.

  After the cemetery, we went back to the funeral home where a party was waiting. I never knew you could have a party after a funeral. They don’t show that on TV. Cruz and I sat in a stairwell and munched on the cookies they had on a fancy table inside the room where all the adults were drinking booze and laughing.

  Cruz’s dad was still avoiding my mom, and I was mad. “Why is your daddy being mean to my momma?” I snapped at Cruz.

  He reared his head back as if I slapped him, but I was too mad to care. His eyebrows came down over his eyes the way they do when he thinks I’m being silly. “He’s not being mean to her, Jo. He’s being proper.”

  “He left her all alone today. Today, when she needed a friend the most.”

  He sighed and then spoke quietly, “They can’t have people whispering about them, so he’s doing the proper thing.”

  “You keep saying that word, but all I see is him being mean. Why would anyone whisper about them?”