OUTCAST: A Stepbrother Romance (17 page)

“
B
ecause they would have
to take me in as well,” he defeatedly replied. “I’ve committed a lot of crimes too, Andrea. With them. My hands aren’t clean, and the authorities would figure that out. They’ll just send me to jail.”

I
stood
up as I began to panic. I paced around the room, sweating profusely, horrified by the things he said, deathly frightened by the perils he brought into our household.

“
N
ash
... how could you be so... so... so stupid!” I told him without even considering to choose my words. “You... you’re a smart guy. Weird sometimes, but smart. Why would you join a group like that?”

“
M
y best friend
... my only friend... Travis... he wanted to join,” he started to explain. “He’s the closest thing to a brother that I have. So I accompanied him. We met their leader. He was very... charismatic...”

“
C
harismatic
?” I asked incredulously. “How could any of those damn...
hip hop
boys... be charismatic?”

“
T
heir leader was
... different,” he calmly said. “He was... very dignified. He commanded respect, but he was also very respectful. He had this manner of speaking that made anyone believe in what he spoke.”

“
S
o their leader
convinced you to join?”

“
H
e told
me that he needed someone like me... that with their group, I could be who I wanted to be... that our
brothers
will have my back forever...”

“
A
cceptance
? Just like you said?”

“
Y
es
.”

“
A
nd you left
because you couldn’t bear the wicked things they did?”

“
Y
es
.”

“
A
nd now
, they’re hunting you down? They want you dead?”

H
e paused
for a while before answering. He looked outside, past the window, into the darkness of the night.

“
Y
es
,” he finally answered. “It is how they deal with traitors. Deserters. Leavers.”

L
eavers
.

L
eva
.

“
W
hat should we do
, Nash?” I asked him, my voice trembling in dread. I sat beside him and rested my head on his shoulder. My hand reach for his. He squeezed my fingers, an attempt - though futile - to comfort me.

“
I
’ll take
care of it,” he said with conviction. “This is my problem. I’ll deal with it. It doesn’t have to involve you... any of you.”

B
ut it did
.

“
N
o
, Nash... it involves me,” I muttered.

“
N
o harm will come
to you,” he replied as he gripped my hand even tighter. “I will protect you.”

“
I
t’s not
me I’m worried about,” I told him.

“
W
hat do you mean
?”

“
N
ash
...” I began to say, mustering all the courage in the world to utter the words I should have spoken weeks ago. “I’m pregnant.”

T
here are
different kinds of silences. There is the type of quietness that is relaxing and reassuring, like that shared between two lovers who are so secure about each other’s affection. There is the type of quietness that is disarming, like that between two acquaintances who can’t read each other’s perception about their respective selves. There is the uncomfortable kind of quietness, filled with awkwardness and unspoken misgivings.

A
nd then
, there is the type of quietness that is just simply devoid of noise... and everything else. It comes with a feeling of emptiness. A black hole that seems more than what it really is. A cold, vacant space, possessing no mass but forms a seemingly unbreakable wall between two people who have become worse than strangers. It is the kind of silence that screams, the kind of silence that ruins, the kind of silence that hurts.

A
nd it is
the kind of silence that separated us at that moment, despite the fact that our bodies were joined by each other’s touch.

“
I
have to go
,” he finally said as he stood up without warning. He withdrew his hand from mine without even giving me a look. He went straight to the window from where he came from and stepped out into the sill.

“
Y
ou’re the father
, you know,” I told him... calmly, sincerely, painfully...

B
ut he didn’t look back
.

H
e leapt
into the branch adjacent to the window, then jumped back to the makeshift steps formed by the uneven bricks on the wall. He climbed down and left. Towards where, I wouldn’t know. I didn’t bother to stand up and watch him go.

I
can’t
.

I
worried
about him that night. A lot. His life was in danger. People were after him. They wanted him dead for leaving their group.

T
he choices he has made
, the life he has decided to live, the repercussions of his decisions... they were plaguing him now. He will forever be hunted... by the specter of an episode he has left behind, if not by the men who wanted to kill him.

I
don’t want
him dead.

I
cared so
much for him. I couldn’t even imagine a life without him.

B
ut dead or alive
, I knew... with so much ache and dejection, I knew... he won’t be there for our baby.

I
woke
up the next morning with puffy eyes from a night of tears and sadness.

I
wished
there was something good to look forward to. But there wasn’t. Even the simplest things that would’ve given me some semblance of comfort before I went to school were maddeningly broken.

I
had
to brace myself for a cold shower because the heater has been acting up since last week. I had to settle for a cold breakfast that Aunt Susan has prepared two hours earlier because the microwave oven wasn’t even working. And I had to endure the five to seven minute drive to school hoping that I won’t sweat too much as to ruin my makeup because my car’s power windows didn’t work.

S
o
, to say that I was pleasantly surprised with what I discovered that morning would be a big understatement.

F
irst
, as I went to the bathroom and disrobed, I scrunched my face as I anticipated the freezing cold water to flow from the shower. But when I turned the faucet, I wasn’t greeted with an icy sprinkling, no. Lukewarm water fell all over my body, and that made me happy.
Finally
, I thought to myself,
dad found someone who was able to fix the heating machine!

A
fter taking
a bath and dressing up for school, I went down to see Aunt Susan bringing out some plates from the microwave. The microwave! I greeted her, and she responded with much enthusiasm and glee.

“
H
ot breakfast
, for a change,” she said smiling as she presented to me a plate of salami sandwich which was still steaming.

A
gain
, it was a very simple thing... but to be able to start my day like that was truly a welcome break from the doom and gloom I have been feeling for the longest time.

I
enjoyed
my sumptuous breakfast as Aunt Susan hummed her way around the kitchen. She was in an awfully jolly mood.

“
W
hat’s up
?” I just had to ask her.

“
F
or starters
, the microwave’s fixed,” she said.

“
I
can see that
,” I replied as I turned to my right to gaze at the source of his happiness. “When did the repairman come over?”

“
T
his morning
,” she enthused. “He surprised me, too. I didn’t expect him at all, that good looking young man!”

H
mmmm
.
Aunt Susan’s probably in heat
, I joked to myself.

“
D
arn
! I didn’t get to see him. Will he be back anytime soon?” I asked her.

“
O
h
, you will!” she animatedly answered. “He promised that much, that he’ll be around more often now.”

O
kay
. That sounded creepy.

“
H
e fixed the heater too
, just in case you didn’t notice,” she added.

“
O
h
... I noticed!” I said with a wide grin.

“
H
e was asking about you
, though,” she continued.

W
hat
?!

“
M
e
? Why?” I asked in disbelief. I took a large bite of the sandwich she prepared.

“
I
guess
he misses his sister,” she nonchalantly responded.

I
spewed
out some of the food in my mouth and started coughing. Aunt Susan looked at me to see if everything was alright.

“
Y
ou mean Nash
?” I questioned. “Nash did all... these?”

“
Y
es
. I told you, he’s really a sweet kid.”

“
H
e fixed
the heater and the microwave oven?” I still didn’t believe what I heard.

“
Y
es
,” she answered. “Nash... he has always been good with his hands.”

I
tended to agree
.

“
W
hat time did
he come home? Has he left? Where is he?” I belatedly realized that I was talking too fast and Aunt Susan may not have understood a word I said.

B
ut she did
.

“
H
e’s outside
, fixing your car,” she told me.

I
immediately dropped
my sandwich on the table and darted off to the main door. I went outside to see if he was still there.

H
e was
.

N
ash was
on the driver’s seat of my car, twiddling with the controls of the power windows. He was so focused on what he was doing... so much so that I didn’t think anything would’ve distracted him from it. It was actually the first time I saw him like that... committed to a particular task, undaunted, unyielding. I found that very appealing, so much so that it made me smile.

H
e got
out of the car and checked the window from the outside... and my jaw almost dropped to the ground. He was shirtless and perspiring, the sweat on his body gleaming under the morning sun, every drop sparkling like stars in a sea of flesh. His body looked like it was molded by the gods of legends, not out of clay but out of granite. His biceps, muscular but not overly humongous, bulged out when he attempted to jerk the door loose after it was jammed on its hinges (one of my car’s many faults, unfortunately). The solid surface that extended outwards from his spine were a sight to behold... rigid, sturdy, obdurate. He turned to his side to check on the power window controls once again, and I caught a glimpse of his chest... not exaggeratedly burly but undoubtedly strong... and his abs... his marvelous, marvelous abs...

S
ure
, I have seen him naked before... but never like that... never in broad daylight with nary an inch hidden by darkness.

T
he thought may be sickening
for most, but at that moment, I imagined myself slurping every drop of sweat from his luscious body.

T
he he turned
around and saw me... just as I was licking my lips.

I
quickly turned
to my side, and then bowed my head. I pretended to step on something... anything... just to give the impression that I wasn’t staring at him... that his half-naked body never tickled my fantasies.

“
H
ow do
you manage to hide it?” he asked, emotionlessly.

O
h shit
!

“
H
ow do
I manage to hide what?” I asked back, feigning ignorance, pretending to be innocent.

“
Y
our sweat
whenever you come out of this car,” he said as he wiped his arms and neck with a towel. “Your AC’s broken beyond repair. It’s an oven in there.”

I
heaved a sigh of relief
.

“
O
h
... you’ll get used to it,” I answered, realizing that I was flapping my hands too much that it would’ve looked very unnatural.

H
e should’ve found
that funny. Or irritating. Or weird. But his face remained expressionless as he continued to tinker with the window.

I
decided to approach him
. I looked over his shoulder, posturing as an interested onlooker who was curious about what he was doing.

H
e tilted
his head and gave me a sharp stare.

“
W
hat
?” he asked, with a hint of annoyance.

“
W
hat
what
?
” I returned his question, trying my best to curtail a smile.

“
W
hat are you looking at
?”

“
N
othing
! You’re the one fiddling with my car. I’m just... checking up on how you’re progressing.”

H
e looked back
at the interior of the door, pulling out some wires and squeezing their edges with his fingers. That act reminded me of something sensual... but I tried really hard to snap out of that train of thought.

“
S
o
...” I cleared my mind of all reservations and started to ask, “why’re you here?”

“
W
hat do
you mean why am I here?” he tried to clarify without even looking at me as he was preoccupied with what he was fixing.

“
Y
ou
. Why are you here?” I asked again. “Aren’t you supposed to be the super mysterious guy who’s involved with questionably mysterious things somewhere mysteriously unknown?”

“
W
ell
, I’m here, so deal with it,” he said rather heartlessly.

“
I
’m just wondering
...” I began to explain.

“
I
t’s my home too
,” he interrupted me. “I have every right to be here, just as much as you do.”

I
just shrugged
, smiling still, confident in expressing my joy because he wasn’t even looking at me.

“
O
kay then
,” I said. “I’m just wondering how long you’d stay this time around. Should we be saying goodbye to you after...” I looked at my watch, “thirty minutes... one hour at the most?”

H
e stood
up and turned to face me.

“
I
’m here
,” he stated firmly. “This is my home. I won’t be going away.”

I
wanted
to hug him right there and then, prying eyes be damned. He just made me so very happy. Yes, he was here. Yes, he was home. But what melted my heart was that he was there, in front of me, with me, and he hasn’t indicated any intention of leaving.

I
went back
inside to finish my breakfast. My dad and my stepmom where already in the dining table. I sat down in my designated seat, on the left side of my dad who occupied the chair at the narrower end of the rectangular surface. My stepmom was on his right. The chair next to her was meant for Nash, but he wasn’t home most of the time so we were used to seeing it empty.

N
ot that morning
, though.

A
minute
after I settled on the dining table, he followed. But instead of sitting next to his mom, he sat on the chair beside me. My eyes widened in shock. I quickly chomped on my sandwich before anyone noticed how startled I was.

“
I
’m
glad you’re joining us for breakfast today, Nash,” my dad greeted him.

H
e just nodded
and gave my father a polite smile.

“
B
y the way
, Jim,” Aunt Susan began to say, “have you heard what the City Hall said about the ordinance they retracted?”

“
W
hat ordinance
?” my dad asked. “The one about displacing the row of stores at Madraska Lane?”

M
y folks
usually had this kind of discussion during our meals. They bored me to tears.

“
Y
es
, they took it back,” she confirmed.

“
G
ood
,” he added. “It was an idiotic ordinance anyway. Who’s the imbecile who proposed that piece of garbage? Even if it got retracted, how could they compensate for the lost income of the storeowners who were displaced for weeks?”

“
T
he city should pay them
,” Nash suddenly said.

W
e were all shocked
. It wasn’t because Nash spoke out his opinion on the matter. It was because, well, Nash actually spoke! In the dining table! With us!

“
W
ell
...” my dad struggled to continue, still stunned by Nash’s completely unexpected interjection. “Uhm... wow... that’s a nice thought. Yeah, yeah... I agree, the city should pay them for the income they lost.”

“
I
t’s only fair
,” Nash added. “The city made a mistake.”