Blocked (33 page)

I G
UIDED
L
UCIA
T
O
H
ER
B
ED
and waited for her to sit before plopping down on the desk chair across from her. “Do you want to take a few deep breaths?”

She nodded, and I gave her some time to collect herself as she perched on her light yellow comforter. She’d made her bed—something I rarely did. In fact, her entire room was neater than mine. A faint scent of lavender, with maybe a twinge of lemon, floated in the air.

“So
that’s
not something you see every day, huh?”

She looked up at me, and her eyes crinkled as she gave me a grateful smile. “Definitely not.”

Allison was probably pacing her room, worried about unemployment, and my jaw clenched thinking about the unfairness of it all. But I’d seen enough of Lucia to know she wouldn’t intentionally hurt another person, and yelling at her wouldn’t solve anything anyway. I tried to figure out a way to talk about gay rights without initiating a shouting match.

“Before Allison, have you ever known anyone who’s gay?”

She twisted her hands together. “I don’t think so.”

I shook my head. “How is that
possible?
Ten percent of the population is gay!”

She scooted back on the bed, away from me, and I blew out a breath.
Chill, amigo.
“No gay or bisexual teammates? High school classmates?”

“I…I think there were a few students at my school who were maybe gay—I was too busy with my club team to get to know them.”

“But they weren’t out?” I couldn’t imagine that. It had seemed
de rigueur
to be gay or bi at my private school.

She swallowed.

Then it hit me. “Your school was Catholic.”

“Yes.”

“So it probably wasn’t cool to be out.”
Judgmental jerks
. I sat on my hands. “And how does, um, your religion…how does that influence your beliefs?”

Her lips pressed into a taut line. “Why do you want to know? So you can tell me how stupid I am?”

“No! I’m really trying here, Lucia. I’m trying to discuss this calmly.”

“Why?” Her eyes seemed weary, weighed down by suspicion and hurt.

Okay, I deserved that. I deserved her mistrust after how I’d treated her at first. And she deserved an explanation for my attempted suppression of the jerk who got off on riling her up—for me trying not to act like Mr. Arrogant Asshat the Third. “Liberalism is about being open-minded—”

“Right,” she scoffed.

“—but I know I haven’t been open-minded when it comes to your beliefs.”

She looked away as she folded her arms across her chest.

“I want to do better. I want to understand why you think the way you do, because…” When her gaze returned to me, my throat tightened.
Don’t fuck this up
. “Because I felt like shit when I was mean to you. I swear I don’t intend to be such an asshole, but I got so mad about your dad’s positions that I ended up making assumptions and spewing all over you, and you don’t deserve that. Not at all.”

She stared at me for a few moments. “I guess I haven’t been very nice to you, either.”

That comment puzzled me—she was one of the sweetest people I’d met—but it also encouraged me to keep going. “You’ve hardly been as aggressive as me, just a little quiet from time to time.” I looked at her pointedly, trying to raise a smile.

She rubbed her hands over her arms.

“Are you cold? Want me to get your sweatshirt from the kitchen?”

“That’s okay.” She grimaced, then blew out a breath, seeming to brace herself. “To answer your question, my church says marriage should be between a man and a woman. It’s from the Bible.”

I gritted my teeth. “Okay, but not everyone believes in the Bible.”

“I get that. But being a Catholic means I don’t get to pick and choose what to follow. I have to follow the scripture.”

“But that’s exactly my point!” I realized my voice had risen, and I struggled to tamp down my intensity. “The Bible also says women should cover their heads, right?” I gestured to her lush hair. “Yet here you are without your hoodie, woman.” I smirked. “A hoodie-less heathen.”

I’d meant to lighten the mood, but the look in her eyes was far from jovial. “So my faith is some joke to you?”

“Nooo.” I groaned in frustration as my palms scoured my cheeks.

“Do you believe in God, Dane?”

I paused. “Maybe.” When her eyes widened, I rushed to add, “I definitely believe in a higher power. I just don’t know what form that power takes. I’m still figuring it out.”

“But your mother said your family goes to church every Sunday.”

My mother said a lot of things, just like Lucia’s father surely did, to garner votes. “We did, as kids. I guess it never took. Anyway, my psych professor said it’s healthy to question at our age.”

“But how do you sleep at night, if you don’t believe in God?”

“How do
you
sleep at night, thinking your religion is right and everyone else is wrong?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” She sighed. “That came out too judgey,
lo siento
. What I’m really asking is how you feel any peace if you don’t have faith. My faith is everything to me, and I don’t know how to survive without it.”

She seemed so sure of herself and her so-called faith that for a moment I wished I could have that surety as well. I jiggled my foot. “How are you so certain God exists?”

She drew back. “I…I’ve never thought about it before…I just always
knew
…”

She’d never questioned what Daddy Adolf had told her?

“Love,” she finally said, her eyes flaring. She pressed a hand against her chest. “I get this feeling of love in my heart when I think of God. He’s there to guide us, take care of us, but mostly to love us.” She blinked at me earnestly. “Do you feel it?”

Yes
. Her eyes gleamed with such conviction that I wanted to sweep her in my arms, our differences be damned. But how would she respond if I kissed her like I wanted to? Would she push me away, like she’d done in the kitchen?

After moments ticked by, I knew she was waiting for an answer, so I said, “I want to feel that love. But it’s not that simple.” I sighed, unsure if I was talking about our messed-up relationship or our religious differences. I opted to continue down the less treacherous path. “If Christians were all about love, maybe I could get on board. But your religion seems more about hate to me.”

She drew in a sharp breath. “
Hate?
How are you getting that out of the Christian message?”

“You’re telling people like Allison they’re not worthy.”

“I didn’t say that! We’re all sinners, but we’re all worthy in God’s eyes. And I like Allison—she’s a good person. I wouldn’t want something bad to happen to her.”

“But what if something bad
does
happen to Allison or China? Without legal marriage, they couldn’t get survivor benefits.”

She paused. “I actually agree with you on that.” Her nose wrinkled up adorably. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve been working on my dad, trying to get him to support civil unions. I think he’s starting to come around.”

“But that’s not what gay people want! They want the right to marry, just like heterosexuals. Though why they want to join that destroyed institution is beyond me.” I grimaced, thinking of my parents. “Straight people who divorce like four times then have the balls to tell gay people
they
can’t marry? Total hypocrites.”

“I agree on that, too. Divorce sucks.” She ran her hand down her long thigh, and tugged at her leggings. “I’m glad my parents are still married.”

“You’re one of the lucky ones, then.”

Her eyes searched mine. “What do you mean by that? Your parents are happily married, too.”

I hoped she couldn’t hear my pounding heartbeat. She, more than anyone, couldn’t know my parents’ marriage was a sham. When I didn’t answer, she kept speaking.

“My dad said divorce and single parenting have caused a lot of problems for America.”

Stop talking about divorce!

“Single parenting in minority homes leads to crime, school dropout, unemployment…” She ticked off each issue on her fingers. “The downfall of the family has hurt our country, and we need to get back to family values.”

“What, like the wife barefoot and pregnant, two-point-five kids, with abortion illegal and white people stealing back all the power?” My fists clenched.

“
Increíble
. What Alex said about your liberal guilt is spot on.” She gestured to her cheeks, a pretty rose blush blooming on her caramel skin. “And how dare you lecture me about multiculturalism?”

“How dare
you
lecture
me
on liberal guilt!” My heartbeat drummed in my ears, and I knew I should walk away to rein in my aggression. But her belief system was so fucked up—I couldn’t let her say these things unchallenged. “We all need more guilt, to right wrongs. Liberals feel guilty because they care about people. We care about equality.”

“Equality is impossible, Dane!” Her spine snapped straight. “It’s a fantasy. All we can strive for is equal opportunity—we can
never
be truly equal. Some people simply work harder than others.”

“What a convenient excuse to subjugate people. That’s exactly why Daddy Adolf won’t support gay marriage—he thinks gay people aren’t equal to him.”

“I told you not to say another word about my father! This conversation is over. It’s not even really a conversation!” She bolted off the bed, flying past me with a storm raging in those dark eyes. I scrambled off the chair to stop her. I clasped her wrists, and she wriggled in my arms.

“Let me go!”

“Jesus, you’re strong,” I marveled as I tried to contain her roving limbs.

Just like that she stopped fighting and went almost limp in my arms. The abrupt shift alarmed me.

She looked down. “I’m not strong.” I thought I heard her sniff. “I’m fat.”

Did I hear her right? What a horrible thing to say about herself. I let her wrists go and listened to our panting as I tried to figure out how the hell to respond to her ridiculous comment. When she wouldn’t look at me, I tilted up her chin. Those shiny eyes blinked at me, full of wounds.

“You’re
not
fat. You’re…”

She seemed to hold her breath.

“Beautiful.”

She gasped, and I realized the enormity of what I’d said. At once we hopped away from each other. The energy between us had shocked us both.

We stared at each other—eyes unwavering, chests heaving—for a long minute. What was she thinking? Did she hate me even more now? Would she run away again? Refuse to speak to me?

She twisted her hands together then softly said, “But not as beautiful as Nina.”

Shit
. Now I knew for sure. “You heard about the abortion.”

“Nina told me.” Her mouth quivered, and I could feel her judgment pouring over me like the steady rain pinging her bedroom window.

“I know I fucked up. I was just a stupid freshman, okay?”

She looked up at me from where she’d been studying her comforter.

“I’m not trying to insult you. You’re, like, way more mature than I ever was as a freshman.” I swallowed. “But the abortion…I know you don’t understand, but the abortion needed to happen. It was a
good
thing.” It sounded like I was trying to convince myself more than explain things, and maybe I was. I continued in a flat voice, “It put that nightmare behind us. It made everything better.”

“The abortion didn’t make it better for the
baby!
That innocent, defenseless baby!”

As I watched her face fill with horror, a lump lodged in my throat. Though I tried to fight it, the image of a little blond baby girl, swaddled in a maroon Highbanks Cougars blanket, filled my head.

“Okay, okay, you’re right,” I finally said. That killed me to admit. “I still regret it. I think about that…tiny baby. What she might have looked like…maybe she’d become a volleyball player, maybe a setter. I would’ve given a lot of love to her. I would’ve tried to be a good dad to her.”

She cocked her head to one side, for some reason looking angry. Why was she mad at me? I’d just conceded a point to her side. “So…” She blinked at me. “You’re regretting the abortion?”

“Well, yeah, of course I am.”

“You’ve had a change of heart, then.”

“Change of heart?”

“A complete one-eighty from how you treated Nina when all this went down.”