For Blood & Glory Page 10

  “Yeah.” Again, they assumed the position. He stooped so she could drape her arm around his wide shoulders and he slid his muscled one around the small of her back, holding her tight. Pain never felt so good. It was weird.

  Together, they hobbled up the short flight of cement steps and past the blush and pink rose garden that lined the grass and walkway leading to her ranch-style home’s entrance. What am I going to say? No—what is mom going to say? As she fumbled with her keys and her words the front door abruptly swung open and a small, apple-shaped, copper-skinned woman dressed in peach hues answered the door.

  “Honey, are you okay?” asked Grandma Katy. Her hazel eyes were full of worry and went straight to Sefira’s legs.

  “Yeah grandma, I’m okay—really, I can still walk.” She feigned a smile.

  Her grandmother placed a wrinkled hand on her heart and breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.” Then her eyes averted to Kaetano.

  “Ah, who do we have here?” she asked, sparkly-eyed with a devilish grin. “A gentleman caller?”

  “Grandma, this is—”

  “Kaetano,” she finished. “Your coach just called to make sure you got home okay.”

  Celeste’s voice carried from somewhere in the house and it sounded frantic. “Sefira is that you?” It was getting closer. “Are you okay?” The next thing she knew her mother was at the door as well. She must not have been home for very long because her dark coffee-colored hair was in one of those executive buns and she still had work clothes on—a loose fitting sapphire blouse that complimented her cocoa cream skin and black slacks. Owl-eyed, her expression was the same as that of her grandmother’s a few minutes ago.

  Geez. “Yeah mom, I’m fine. Just tripped,” Sefira answered.

  “Yes, and look where you fell….” Grandma wiggled her eyebrows at Kaetano.

  Dear Lord.

  “Let the kids come in.” A male voice interrupted her grandmother’s shenanigans just in time.

  “Yes, of course. Come on in, Kaetano.” A warm smile graced her grandmother’s stately face as she extended her hands towards Kaetano’s arm the way only southern grandmas do. Today, she was wearing Sefira’s favorite wig. The silver one with the pixie coils. She guided him through the front door and past a short corridor where they passed a mirror affixed to the wall on her right, and jackets hanging from the wall on her left.

  Always eager to entertain, her grandmother made formal introductions. “I’m Fira’s grandmother, Katy, and this is her mother, Celeste.”

  “Nice meeting you all,” said Kaetano.

  “Nice meeting you too,” said her mother. “I’ll take those.” Celeste peeled Sefira’s things from Kaetano’s shoulder.

  From the hallway, the garage and bathroom were to the right and to the left was the living room.

  “Would you like to sit here?” asked Kaetano, nodding toward a beige loveseat situated in front of a large arced window facing the front yard. A rose-scented breeze drifted through the open window, sending ripples and dapples of light across blue and ivory curtain panels.

  “Actually, would you mind helping me to the family room? I think I can stretch out a bit better.”

  “Of course.”

  Sweet aromas brimming with sautéed garlic, caramelized onions and basil emanated from the back of the house, promising fulfillment in the next hour or so. Sefira’s stomach grumbled as they passed the living room and stairs, entering a fairly sizable room. Unlike their old house, this one had a very open floor plan. The kitchen, dining and family rooms were all integrated into a common area—the fixtures and furniture setting them apart. In the family room, soft yellow hues graced walls that extended high into an A-framed ceiling. On the walls, scuffed sand and azure tinted picture frames filled with serene scenes were carefully aligned throughout the room. Succulents and potted leafy-green Peace Lilies were placed on the end tables between two leather sofas in an “L” formation, giving the room a laid-back, beachy feel. Sefira had her eye on the large sofa situated against the back wall with its pillow-top seating and accent tufting. It was her favorite place to crash because there was a massive bay window behind it and it faced the mantle and flat screen TV on the opposite wall. In her opinion it was also safer. The other sofa sat underneath a massive wall full of bookshelves that were presently filled with glass-blown trinkets, family pictures and a substantial volume of books. Her mother claimed the built-in shelves were fairly secure, but Sefira wouldn’t want to be seated underneath them if there were ever an earthquake and neither did her grandfather—hence, his choice of seating.

  “I hear you’re okay, so I won’t ask you that again.” From the recliner, Grandpa Damon lowered the large newspaper shielding his face, revealing a wiry white mustache that had formed a grin. He was a short, balding camel-brown man with a keen nose and thin lips. Grandma called him a ‘character’ as he was able to make even the crabbiest of people smile with a wink and an elbow. “I’m Grandpa if you haven’t already guessed.”

  “Hi Grandpa,” said Sefira as Kaetano gently eased her onto her favorite couch. It hissed beneath her weight as she eased her legs atop its length.

  Kaetano took it upon himself to walk over to her grandfather to make an introduction. Damon looked quite pleased. Creases gathered around his angular eyes as he placed his paper in his lap and leaned forward to give Kaetano a firm handshake.

  Grandma addressed Kaetano. “Sit down chile,” the beading on her blouse caught the light, shimmering as she patted the space beside her on the loveseat. She moved the errant tablet aside to make room for her new best friend.

  “Thanks Ma’am, but um—” Kaetano rubbed the back of his neck. “I appreciate your inviting me in, but I really didn’t plan to stay.” He glanced at Sefira. “I just wanted to make sure Sefira made it home okay.”

  “Well she did thanks to you. Now as our guest I must insist, please sit—even if it’s only for a spell.”

  Kaetano lowered his eyes, cheeks dimpling. “Okay.” He sat down. Grandma never lost a fight.

  Celeste emerged from the kitchen with a warm hand towel and a white bag. Sefira winced as she crouched down next to her and gently dabbed at her knees.

  “Thanks mom, but I’ve got it.” She took the towel from her mom and continued where she left off.

  “You’ll need this too.” She handed her a frozen bag of peas which Sefira placed on her bruised knee. “Thanks.”

  Her mother stood and addressed Kaetano, pushing back the stray strands of hair that made their way towards her eyes. “I really appreciate what you did. For bringing her home safely. If you wait here, I’ll get a few dollars for gas—”

  “No, really, the pleasure was all mine.” Kaetano smiled reassuringly.

  Celeste turned to Sefira. “Sweetheart, if something should happen in the future, call me and I’ll take care of things.” Although she directed her conversation toward her, what she said was clearly meant for Kaetano’s ears as well. Something’s on her mind.

  “Sure.” Sefira exchanged glances with Celeste as her mom’s heels clacked back into the adjoining kitchen.

  “Kaetano is it?” Grandpa worked to scratch his forearm beneath his tan and green striped button up shirt. “You read the paper?” Grandpa inquired.

  “Uh, no sir, not so much. Guess I’m on the Internet more than anything.”

  Grandma cut in. “Read the paper? Honey kids these days don’t read papers. I’m not even sure where you find yours.”

  “They’re around if you look. Anyway, the Internet’s nice and all, but nothing can replace the quality of the printed page. It’s not just the stories, ya know. It’s the feel of it—turning the pages and smelling the print. Can’t smell the Internet, ya know. Not yet, anyhow.”

  “Yes, you’re probably right.”

  “Better quality articles in print too. You should really start picking up the paper.” Grandpa’s glasses slid down his nose as he looked squarely into Kaetano’s eyes.

  “Yes, sir. My dad
says the same thing.”

  Grandpa went back to his paper.

  Grandma Katy sat up straight and folded her hands in her lap. “Where are you from, son?” she asked. Her kind eyes looked giddy.

  “Oklahoma, but we’ve lived in California for at least six years.”

  “We—meaning you and your parents?” Grandpa asked from behind his paper.

  “Yes, and my little brother.”

  The hollow sound of footsteps marching upstairs filled the room. Sefira looked up and glimpsed her little sister Carli walking past the upstairs banister toward the stairway. She probably heard Kaetano’s voice from her bedroom and wanted to get a good look at him. Footsteps travelled down the stairs and on cue, she burst into the family room in her Alvarado Junior High Cheerleading uniform with her freckled, honey complexion full of freshly applied make-up—pink lipgloss, a dusting of rouge and mascara to boot. Boy, she was really over-doing it. Two long chestnut-colored braids adorned with flowered jewelry swayed as she cocked her head to one side. “Mom, I was expecting a call, have…oh.” She paused looking to Kaetano, offering her pageant smile. Throwing an exaggerated hand on her hip, she continued. “No one told me we had company.” She pretended to discreetly straighten out her clothing as she walked over to him.

  This is like a bad sitcom. “Yeah, Carli this is—” Sefira began.

  “Kaetano.” She stuck her hand out to shake his. “I’ve seen you around campus. Sometimes Alvarado’s cheer squad practices at Eisenhower. I’m Sefira’s sister.”

  “Oh.” Kaetano stood to shake her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “We have a well-informed family,” Sefira said dryly, giving her sister a slight look.

  “So, you like my sister?” Carli continued, amused.

  That’s enough for today. “Alright, well I know Kaetano didn’t intend to stay….” said Sefira, scrambling to her elbows to sit upright.

  “No, stay,” Carli pleaded. “Randall should be here any minute.”

  Even more of a reason why he should leave.

  “Sefira’s right,” declared Kaetano. “I’ve really got to get going. Glad we had a chance to meet.”

  They all chimed in with some variant of the same.

  “You’ll have to come on by sometime for dinner,” her grandmother added.

  “Thanks, I’d like that.”

  There was an awkward silence. Sefira cleared her throat, glancing at several pair of eyes studying them.

  “C’mon Carli,” said her mother as she clacked back over to link her arm with Carli’s. “You can help me in the kitchen.”

  Carli looked confused. “Help you? In the kitchen? I thought you said hell would freeze over before—” Celeste gave her an elbow and escorted her out.

  “I’ll join you,” said Grandma, following them.

  Grandpa lifted his paper back in front of his face.

  Kaetano chuckled and knelt down on the wood floor next to her.

  “I’m so sorry for the twenty-questions,” said Sefira. I guess they’re not used to me bringing—um—”

  “Boys,” finished Carli from in the kitchen. They heard a splat. “Ow!”

  Now they were both laughing.

  “It’s fine, really. Get better.” He stood up and patted her head. “See you soon. I hope. I’ll let myself out.” He glanced at Sefira, flashing perfect teeth before heading toward the front door.

  The door had barely clicked shut before Grandma and Carli were back in the family room.

  “Where’d you meet that tall glass of water?” Grandma asked.

  “He’s just a friend from track. “

  “Just a friend from track?” Carli scoffed. “He’s only like, the hottest guy I’ve seen at Eisenhower."

  “He’s cute too.” Grandma chimed in.

  “That’s what I just said, Grandma.” Carli teased as she plopped on the couch and grabbed the tablet.

  Grandma continued, “And I think he likes you.”

  Sefira rolled her eyes. She wasn’t upset at all—more embarrassed than anything. “I think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves. He’s cool but he barely knows me and I barely know him.”

  “Looks like he’s trying to change that,” said Grandma, rubbing her chin.

  “Well you know I have absolutely no time for guys. I’ve got track, homework….”

  “Oh, you made the team. Good girl,” her grandfather exclaimed.

  “Yeah, well, nothing’s confirmed yet, but I think I have a good shot despite the fall. Anyway, I have a feeling that a few girls like him, so….”

  “So what,” said Carli, suspending her rendezvous with the tablet. “You’re one of the prettiest girls at that school.”

  “Aw, you think so?” Sefira was surprised.

  “Well, you know. I don’t go there yet,” Carli joked.

  Grandma laughed. “Don’t pay her no mind.”

  After some teasing and a gentle argument with granny over whether or not Sefira was capable of getting off the couch, she decided to venture into the kitchen to see what was up with her mom.

  The kitchen area was nice and spacious. The cabinets were made out of oak and they aligned two walls adjacent to one another. Her mother was cooking something on the gas stove occupying the shorter side of the space. A sink, stainless-steel refrigerator and dishwasher were on the other side. A bar separated the family room from the kitchen and a small island was in the center of the space. Currently, there were refrigerated leftovers piled atop. Sefira lifted one of the containers, opened and sniffed.

  “What’s this?” she asked, giving the mystery meat a once over.

  Celeste pulled a pot from one of the cabinets below, placed it on the stove and turned around. “Pot roast,” she answered, her thin lips pressed.

  Celeste was an avid watcher of “Abducted”, the television show dedicated to solving crimes from beyond the grave. Many of those crimes started or ended with girls in cars. Needless to say, she wasn’t too big on the idea of riding with strangers. Sefira suspected that her mom would have plenty to say about that and she was right. Celeste proceeded to tell her that she planned to buy her a cell phone and that she needed to be careful about forming relationships with guys because at worst they’re strangers and strangers sometimes do terrible things; at best, they could trigger her anxiety. Sefira knew that this was all coming from a good place, so rather than argue, she decided to agree. Once she had an earful she decided to mosey on down to the living room. No one was in there, and she just needed a little peace and quiet. Or better yet—some mindless television. Hobbling in, she sat down only to realize the remote was missing. Carli must’ve taken it into the family room. Ugh. Sighing, she peeled herself back off the couch and made her way across the carpet towards the family room, stopping short before entering at the mention of her name. Voices spoke in hushed, barely audible tones.

  “Celeste, you can’t keep her on a leash. If she’s going to relapse, she’s going to do it regardless. Give her some slack,” said Grandpa.

  “Yeah mom,” Carli chimed in.

  “Don’t you have homework?” asked Celeste.

  “I did it at school,” answered Carli.

  “There must be something for you to do.” There was a brief silence, and Celeste continued. “Anyway, who said anything about a leash? I just don’t want her driving around with strange boys—she’s not ready for that kind of relationship. What if he breaks her heart—then what? She’s fragile, she might….” Her words broke off.

  Sefira rolled her eyes. Really? We’re still talking about this?

  Grandpa cut in. “Honey, I understand your misgivings, but I think you’re taking this a little too far. She’s been doing well for some time now. How can she move on from what happened if you’re constantly reminding her about it?

  She needs to meet people—make friends. That kid seems like a nice young man. He’s had some home trainin’—I can tell. She needs to make friends like that.” The sound of rustling newspaper signified the end
of Grandpa’s two cents.

  Sefira heard the sliding glass door to the backyard open. “Who was that?” It was Randall. The tone of his voice was an indicator that he was in an argumentative mood.

  “What are you talking about, baby?” The lilt in her mom’s voice was her attempt to encourage him to go another route. Sefira had seen this play out all too often.

  “I put the trashcans up and saw a blue Mustang take off from in front of the house.” said Randall.

  “Oh, that was your sister’s gentleman caller,” said Grandma.

  Sefira could hear footsteps trudging to the kitchen. The refrigerator door swished shut and she imagined him downing the rest of the OJ.

  “Gentleman caller?” he repeated.

  “That young man likes your sister,” Grandpa replied.

  Randall quickly corrected him. “You mean that young man likes Sefira.”

  “Cut it out Randall,” said Celeste.

  “Who is this ‘winner,’ anyway?” asked Randall.

  “His name’s Kaetano Richards and he’s super cute.” It was Carli coming to Sefira’s defense, as usual. “I heard he’s like a track star or something.”

  “I never heard of him, so he can’t be that good,” Randall replied.

  Carli continued, “Well if you hadn’t gotten kicked out of Eisenhower, maybe you would have.”

  “I don’t have to go to Eisenhower to know that he has bad taste.”

  Sefira couldn’t take it any longer. “Glad to know you had such a great day, Randall.” She emerged from the hallway. “Don’t let me ruin it.” With that, she limped over to her backpack, turned towards the stairs and headed up to her bedroom, trying to ignore the arguing still within earshot.

  “Randall, you’re such a jerk sometimes,” said Carli.

  “Enough.” Celeste quelled the argument. “Randall, Carli’s right. You treat your sister with such contempt and I’m sick of it. She hasn’t done anything to you.”

  “First of all, she’s not my sister. And what do you mean she hasn’t done anything? She destroyed our family.”

  “Go to your room.” Celeste demanded. “If you’re going to act like a 5-year-old I’m going to treat you like one.”