Avra's God (20 page)

He reached out and wiped it away with his
knuckle.

“Don’t.” She pushed his hand away. “You were
my best friend.”

You were my best friend too.

“Now ... now there’s nothing left.”

“Not even a second chance?” The whispered
words escaped before he realized he’d spoken them. But instantly,
he knew with every molecule in his being he wanted Avra.

“I ... can’t.” The words seemed wrung from
some place deep in her.

The ring of finality in her voice knifed him.
“You hate me, don’t you?”

“I want you to hurt as badly as you hurt me.
But hating you would be a relief. I wish I could.”

He held her eyes. Seconds ticked by. As if a
protective film had been peeled back, he saw passion in Avra he’d
never seen. Maybe for the first time, he realized what he’d lost.
His chin dropped to his chest. He turned and walked away, her anger
pummeling his back.

He’d always thought Avra was tough. She had
God, her family. But he had been wrong. She was vulnerable, and
he’d done this to her.

Avra watched Cisco melt into the crowd. She
hugged her arms to her waist and faced the mouth of the river to
hide her tears. God had given her the courage to speak the
conversation that had spiraled in her head for months. She’d needed
to speak those words out loud and for Cisco to hear her, really
hear her.
Thank you, God. Let me find healing in Your
arms.

After his encounter with Avra, a divine hand
yanked the blindfold from his eyes. He had never stopped loving
Avra. As he made his way through the crowd, he knew he had to break
things off with Isabel. Tonight, before he lost his nerve.

At the base of the bridge, Isabel stood
talking with her friends. Short shorts and a tight midriff showed
off her perfect body. He felt the familiar physical pull toward
her, like a bungee cord connecting them.
Why did I ever go
there?
He wished there were no mixed feelings about ending
things. Before God, he knew it was the right thing to do—whether
Avra ever spoke to him again or not. Guilt had trailed him from
that first night at the kegger. It stuck fast to him as tightly as
Isabel did.

Even if he was ignoring God, God obviously
wasn’t leaving him alone. Avra, her family, and her church had
awoken him to God. Sin wasn’t as fun as it used to be.

Seeing Avra pushed him to do right—as she
always did. Something about being in the presence of purity was
like hanging with God. She made him want to walk tall.

The fireworks in the sky had exploded, the
ones with Isabel yet to come. The moon bathed them in half light.
Cisco led Isabel by the hand to the stretch of shore where he’d
spoken with Avra. The memory lingered, giving him strength.

In the distance, the crowd filtered into
cars, doors slammed. Kids further down the river laughed and
shouted on their way home.

He sucked in a breath and turned to face
Isabel. Moonlight spilled across the swell of her breasts where
she’d freed the top buttons of her blouse.

Cisco looked away. “We gotta talk.”

Isabel stepped close to him and held a finger
to his lips. Her breath warmed his neck. Her musk scent circled
around him, drawing him toward her.

Lust and doing right wrestled inside him.

Isabel stood on her toes and pressed soft
lips against his. Her hands slid under his T-shirt as she pressed
in against him.

A flash fire moved through his body. He drew
a ragged breath and stepped back. His T-shirt settled into place.
“This is wrong.” His voice was soft, willing her to agree.

“It feels right.” Isabel melted against him,
her lips seeking his.

He turned his head and her kiss landed on his
cheek.

Her eyes sparked with anger. “You didn’t
think it was so wrong for the last two months.”

Unable to look at her, he focused on the tiny
waves lapping the shore. “I gotta end this,
chiquita
.” He
gentled his voice and faced her. “I’m sorry.”

Shock registered in her eyes. “Why? Is it
that
gringa
? Is it because I told you about my stepfather?
You haven’t touched me since—”

He hung his head. “I don’t love you.” He
looked up at her. “I wish I could love you. You deserve to be
loved.” He expected anger, hoped for it. Her anger might hold off
his guilt.

But, she buried her head in her hands. Tears
ran between her fingers.

He was a total jerk. He touched her back with
his fingertips, almost afraid to do more. “Don’t cry.”

She ignored him, breaking into sobs. “Please
no ... no, please.” She crumpled on the beach. Cisco squatted
beside her, his guilt pressing him down.

He stroked her hair.

She quieted and looked up at him. Moonlight
bounced off her tears.
“Please,
mí corazón
.”
Her wet eyes pled with him. Rumpled hair flowed
over one shoulder; the other was bare where her blouse had slipped
down.

Desire teased his body. He looked toward the
spot where Avra stood earlier and back at Isabel. “I’ve hurt you.
I’m sorry, sorry to my gut. But—it has to be over.”

She slapped him across the cheek and spat a
vile name at him in Spanish. Her opal eyes glittered as she stood
and buttoned her blouse with choppy movements.

The taillights of her sister’s car carried
her down Riverside Drive and away. He sunk to the damp sand, his
head drooping between his knees. He’d done the right thing; why did
he still feel dirty and empty? Water rippled at his feet. He
weighed getting drunk to forget.

A warm breeze—a caress—lifted his hair from
his face and shoulders. God was here where Avra had stood. He knew,
somehow.

His gaze skimmed the water. Tiny fishing
boats strung
along the Intercoastal like
charms on a chain. In his mind he named them. The boats farthest
away, returning to their moorings were last summer’s sins—so many
girls, one he only knew as New Jersey.

Later, still stone cold sober, after driving
aimlessly for what seemed like hours, he climbed out of the Geo,
surprised he’d only moved a few miles downriver. A Bud Light can
sloshed against the beach, reminding him of the nights he’d gotten
drunk or stoned. Funny, he’d never thought getting high was
wrong—not till he’d heard that Bible verse at Avra’s church.

His eyes focused on a boat with a bright
shrimp light swaying overhead. It represented the light of the
bonfire—when he cheated on Avra in the back of Billy’s van. The
boats on the far side of the inlet
b
obbed,
flashlights glinting crazily—two months of partying with Isabel.
The glow of a lone running light hovered over a boat in the middle
of the river. He stared at it for a long time—Avra’s heart.

He lay back on the cool sand. He wanted to
retch. His mind, like the sky, had gone black and white, clearer
than it had been in a long time.

“God,” he said to the sky, “I’ve been hearing
all year how You took the punishment for my crap.” He gestured
toward the inlet. The stars ran together. Tears seeped out of the
corners of his eyes and trailed into his ears. “I’m ashamed. I’m
sorry. I wanna be clean.”

He rolled to his side, curling around huge
racking sobs that rose from his chest. Shelly sand dug into his
cheek. Eventually, he quieted and sat up, taking a deep quivering
breath. “I wanna be that kid in the story hiking home to his dad. I
don’t deserve anything from You but I want it all. I want Your kiss
on my cheek.” He scraped the shell pieces from his face. “I want
You for my Dad.”

The stars glinted through the leftover tears
in his eyes. He stood, brushing the damp sand from his limbs, and
scrubbed the sand from his hair. He scanned the river. Swept clean,
the last boat cutting under the bridge. His lip cracked when he
smiled. “Thanks, Dad.”

Kallie stopped in the surf to hear Avra’s
answer.

“I actually feel better after venting to
Cisco.”

“Jesse and I aren’t even going out, but
seeing him kiss Tía felt like he shoved me under a train.”

“Jesse has a girlfriend? I’ve never known him
to even go on a date.”

Could Jesse possibly be safe?
“Blood
spurted everywhere—”

“Enough with the gory analogies.”

“Hey, I listened to you moan about
Cisco—”

“Blood squirts—”

“I could hardly breathe, it hurt so badly.
But you went through a lot worse, and you’re fine. Why?”

“You could say it was coincidence, but I
think God answered my prayer for closure. I’ve needed to have this
conversation with Cisco ever since he cheated.”

Kallie sunk into the shin-deep water, the
warm surf sudsing around her.
What if God ...
“I thought it
was a fluke ... I asked God for comfort.”

Avra knelt down. “What happened?”

“I felt sort of peaceful. Then—this is the
really weird part—I started thinking about Tía—how she was new in
town and probably needed a friend.”

“Wow. God answered your prayer.”

A wave washed in and she put a hand on the
bottom to steady herself. “That was a prayer?”

“Absolutely.”

Had God really bothered to answer her
melodramatic plea? Didn’t He have more important things to attend
to? Maybe it was reverse PMS. Maybe she had an isolated bipolar
experience. Maybe she wasn’t half in love with Jesse. “I’m in a
dark cave feeling around for God. I hope He—or whatever I’m looking
for—is in there.”

Avra grabbed her arm. “Kallie, He’s in your
cave, and you’re going to find Him, I promise.”

How could Avra be so sure? She studied the
light in her friend’s eyes and wondered, not for the first time,
where it came from. “I hope so.”

Avra lay back on her elbows in the surf.
“Come to church with me.”

Was it a sin to go to a Protestant
church?

“Your church emphasizes God’s holiness. Mine
talks about connecting with him. Same Jesus.”

Connecting—wasn’t that what she was trying to
do with her letters to God and reading the Bible? “Okay.” She hoped
this wouldn’t tick Him off.

Kallie’s gaze fixed on Tía’s childlike face
as they strolled beside the Indian River. Tía’s story tumbled onto
the grass and slipped into the murky water—orphaned, shuttled from
home to home—waking the compassion Kallie had felt the day she met
Tía.

Tía grabbed Kallie’s wrist. “God brought us
together.”

Kallie’s mind flitted to the letter to
God—maybe it was actually a prayer like Avra said—that had ushered
in peace and caring for Tía. “I think you’re right.”

The picture of Jesse kissing Tía under the
bridge flashed in Kallie’s head. She eased her arm from Tía’s
grasp.

Tía turned large green eyes pooled with pain
on her. “I’m not good enough to please Jesse’s family.”

I’ve never met Jesse’s family.

“My name Tía means ‘aunt’ in Spanish. What a
stupid name. Like someone who calls their dog,
Dog
—” She
waved a hand, dismissing the subject. “Working at CorMeth Day
School is harder than I expected. I won’t have enough saved to get
an apartment, much less start classes till fall. Every one of us is
going insane at the Malcomb’s. I’ve been so lonely for a friend.”
Street light washed Tía’s cheeks porcelain, giving her a fragile
quality.

Mercurial and desperately alone, Tía made
Kallie want to bring her home and take care of her. No doubt, Jesse
felt the same thing. But Tía’s ethereal beauty would pitch Jesse,
or any guy, into the L word. Tía was not who she would have
imagined for Jesse. But she’d never pictured anyone with Jesse, not
even herself.

No question, I’m taking the friendship Tía
is offering.
Like a conjoined twin, severing herself from Jesse
would take violence. In some twisted way, being friends with Tía
would leave a shared ligament or blood vessel intact. Even if Jesse
never noticed.

Tía turned the corner onto Wayne Avenue.
“Were you Jesse’s girlfriend?”

“No.” In the distance cars slashed across US
1. Kallie gripped her waist. “Music crashed us together, but
otherwise, we’re just mangled metal—not a pretty picture.”

Tía’s eyes grew soft and wide like a
four-year-old’s. “I can’t imagine how anyone could
not
get
along with Jesse. He’s so kind, takes care of me, you know. I can’t
remember the last time someone took care of me.”

Jesse was safety to Tía and danger to her.
Not anymore.

Cisco’s feet hit the basketball court.
“Whoosh, sunk that baby! Game. I took you down.”

Tad bent at the waist and leaned on his
knees, “Yeah, right, by one point. Don’t gloat too much. I’ve got
six years on you.”

Cisco smirked. “Wah, wah, wah.” He sprawled
on the bench, arms spread across the back. A twilight breeze blew
across the asphalt and cooled his sweat-slicked skin.

Tad propped a foot on the bench. He loosened
the laces on one shoe and worked on the other. “How’re things
going?”

“You mean, like how’re things with me and
Jesus? We’re tight, man.” He held up two fingers side by side. “I’m
praying. I’m looking at the Book. But, you know that. You’re the
one keeping my tail to the fire.”

“And the rest of things?”

“Can’t you just be satisfied with simple
answers? You’re like a little old lady digging up all the
dirt.”

Tad chuckled and sat down, crowding him down
to the end of the bench. “I’ve got all night.”

“Okay, already. The rest of things are crap.
My gut hurts all day every day. I’m ashamed. I still love Avra. If
I just hadn’t been such a—”

“Selfish pig?”

“That was milder than what I was gonna say.
Anyway, once a guy’s seen class, nothing else is gonna do. You know
what I mean?”