Sarah, Cara Mia

Sarah grimaced as Uncle Joe patted her back, a little low for her comfort, “Hey, all grown up and going out into the world,” he winked. “Bet all them college boys will love ya!”

“Uh huh.” Yada yada yada. Rolling her eyes, Sarah grabbed empty bottles and swung around, walking back to the house with her strawberry blond hair and the skirt of her yellow dress fluttering behind. She shook her head and stepped into the cool living room, glad to escape, only to encounter Mom.

“Sarah, you don’t have to clean up today–it’s your party, remember? You only go away to college once!” Her mother lay her hands on her shoulders and a kiss on her forehead, “I’ll pick up later–go mingle with every one!” Mom grabbed a tropical napkin and her matching fruity drink and headed to the patio.

Sarah sighed. Throwing out the empties, then wiping the counter, she peeked around the corner at the back yard. Relatives, a few neighbors, and her older brother Jason milled about, laughing and sloshing drinks. Mom and Dad-married thirty years. Grandma and grandpa…who the hell knew anymore? All part of life, pairing off and growing old together.

Hoping to stave off her return to the har-har yuck-yuck scene, Sarah rinsed dishes and glanced at Jason, laughing with Aunt Marie and cousin Leslie under the Sunbrella. He had said his friend Tristán might stop by to wish Sarah good luck at school. Sarah had something else in mind.

Tristán appeared four years ago when he and Jason became friends in HVAC school. Not real tall and seemingly shy, perhaps conscious of the scar from a cleft palate, he was in terrific shape and had the most beautiful deep brown eyes Sarah had ever seen. She thought about those eyes nearly every day, wishing they would look on her with desire ever since she met him. She was fourteen at the time, and he twenty. Polar opposite of Jason, Tristán was always quiet and polite. Perhaps Jason’s outspokenness attracted him, and Tristán’s level head kept Jason out of trouble. Sometimes. He always treated Sarah kindly, always a gentleman, to Sarah’s annoyance, but then, she knew that their age difference could mean trouble for him.

In July, she turned eighteen. She hadn’t seen him since her birthday, and she wished he’d appear now. Tristán, the only guest for whom their reclusive gray cat, Ghost, ever purred and approached. Over the years, Sarah watched Tristán gently scratching Ghost’s neck, murmuring sweet nothings to the cat in Spanish. Perhaps Ghost remembered him from another life. Maybe Ghost knew something she didn’t.

She heard the back door open and shut, the scuff of boots and a man softly singing No Te Apartes De Mí, then he stopped. She heard a meow, then, “Ah, Ghost, what you doing out here, huh? Hiding in the laundry room?” Silence. She pictured Tristán bending over to scratch Ghost’s neck, but not for long. She took several deep breaths while gripping the edge of the sink.

Dressed in new jeans and a dark button down with the sleeves turned up, Tristán quietly floated into the kitchen, into her life, yet on the outskirts.

“Tristán, you came,” Sarah smiled and approached him with arms outstretched. “Come on, I’m leaving for a year, give me a hug!” She wrapped her arms around his neck; he reluctantly embraced her.

“Oh, come on, harder!” Sarah giggled.

He tightened his solid arms around her, the heat through his shirt warming her midriff, “Your brother isn’t gonna kill me, is he?” He chuckled into her hair.

“Who cares about Jason. He’s outside, anyway.” She leaned back, her hands resting around his neck, “Come up stairs, I want to talk to you about something.”

“Uh, you sure…”

She lightly wiped her hand down her dress, then grabbed his and tugged, “Yeah, come on, before Jason knows you’re here.”

A breeze played with the lace curtains in Sarah’s room, green walls cool and hidden from the sunlight and the bustle of the party. She left the door ajar in the event anyone came upstairs, hearing their murmurs from within and getting nosy. Open door = nothing’s going on, hence, go away.

She waved her hand towards the edge of her bed, “Sit.” He did so, and she sat next to him, the hem of her dress creeping up her smooth, tanned knees. She took a deep breath, “So…”

Tristán tilted his head, “Yes?”

“So, I’m going away to college next week.”

Tristán smiled warmly, “Yep, going away to college. Good luck. Me, back to work. Busiest time of the year.”

“Yes, I’m glad you were able to stop by, though.”

“And…is that what you wanted to talk about?” He absently pushed his cuffs higher up his bronze forearms.

She glanced at his strong hands while her fingertip drew curves on the bedspread, “No. I wanted to ask you something.”

“Uh, okay?”

“Tristán,” She paused. “I’m nervous about going to school.”

“Why? You’re smart. You’ll do fine,” he playfully cuffed her chin.

She took another deep breath, “Well, it’s not that…”

“No?”

She stopped tinkering with the bedspread and looked at him, “I’m still a virgin.”

Tristán straightened, “Oh?”

Another moment passed, her heart beating so hard it hurt, “Tristán, I want you to be the first.”

Deer in the headlights, then he chuckled and buried his face in his hand, “Oh Lord, Sarah…,” he shook his head, “that’s a big deal. I…I’m flattered you chose me, but why?”

She leaned towards him and placed a slender hand on his thigh, “Because I’ve waited long enough. You’re kind, and respectful, and you always treated me so nicely. You’ve been a good friend to my brother, and…,” she sat back.

“Yes?”

“And you’re in my dreams every night, ever since I met you, that day you came into the kitchen with Jason. You wore that red and black checkered shirt…”

“Oh no, that one?”

“Yeah, that one,” Sarah laughed, “and you tipped over a glass of water and I handed you a dishcloth.”

Tristán stared at her, “You remember all that?”

“Every night,” she scooched closer and lowered her voice, “every night I see your face above mine, feel your heat, imagine your body pressing into mine,” her fingertip traced up his arm, “I’m eighteen now, safe-zone, you know? And I really do want my first time to be with you. I won’t expect you to have a relationship with me, and I won’t get psycho on you, okay?” She smiled, watching his expression. “I know this is a strange request, and I know it’s awkward because you’re friends with my brother. I don’t want to get in the way of that, but Tristán, I’m afraid to wait forever and I know you. I want to know what it’s like. And it is important, the first time.”

Tristán sat quietly, folding and unfolding his hands, watching them as he did so. Finally, he said, “Sarah, the first time hurts,” he looked at her, “you probably know that.”

“Yes, I know,” her eyes grew wide, anticipating ‘no’.

He took another breath, “I just don’t know if I can do that to you, you know, hurt you.”

“Well, I know it hurts a little, and I’m not expecting earth-shattering orgasms,” she smiled weakly, yet hoping for traction.

“I…,” elbows on his knees, he lay his forehead on his hand, “I don’t know if I can do it.”

Her face fell, “Listen, it’s okay if you don’t like me. I understand.”

“No, it’s not that. I like you fine, and most guys would love to be in my shoes, but listen, some years ago, some stuff happened to me, and I just don’t think I can do what you want.” He looked at her from beneath his brow.

Her hand went to her mouth, “Oh, I’m so sorry. It…it doesn’t work?”

He smirked, “No, not that. It works. I got into it with some guys years ago, you know, got into a fight. They didn’t forget it and jumped me one day.” Tristán sat upright, “They cornered me in an alley, and,” he took a deep breath, “well, did things to me.” He watched her eyes as they flickered, tearing up, struggling to meet his gaze.

“Oh,” she murmured, “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

He reached out and stroked her hair, “Hey, there’s no way you could know that. Happened in another state, years ago. Even Jason doesn’t know. And I mean, hey, I’ve had a few girlfriends since. I’m not broken, but I don’t know about being someone’s first.”

She wiped a tear with the back of her hand, “I guess I wouldn’t even have said any of that stuff if I’d known. So, have you told anyone?”

“Yeah, my parents know. They wanted to press charges, but those guys disappeared. I didn’t want to go through with that anyway. We moved, I saw someone for a while. I dunno, I just keep busy with work. I know what they did was wrong, and I don’t blame myself.”

“But it must affect you.”

“Yeah, makes me want to shut up and box and work out so it don’t happen again.”

She looked at him, quietly for a moment, then, “Okay. I won’t press. But please, if you do ever want to talk, you can talk to me. I know I’m younger and maybe you really don’t know me all that well, but you know I care about you and I always liked you, so please use me.” Her fingertips went to her lips again, “Well, you know what I mean.”

He smiled, “Yes, thank you.” He kissed her gently on the forehead, “You deserve the best, cara mia.” He stood, brushed her hair once more, and went away.

Sarah sat, looking to the ceiling to keep the tears from streaming down her cheeks. With a sickness in her stomach, she brushed her hair, dabbed her eyes, and returned to the party. Tristán had already bid good bye and thank you to Jason and his parents, and was not there.

The Best had left the building.

***

Boxes, clothes, paperwork, flurries in her stomach. Sometimes she felt calm about going away, sometimes queasy. The university was only five hours away, not that far, but still. Being a legal adult and a real adult were two different things. She knew how to pay a bill and drive a car and make phone calls, but nonetheless, even with a curriculum lined up and a room in a house with three other nursing students, she felt on the verge of drifting, of coming apart.

Mom and Dad were at work. So was Jason. All day. Only a week before departure. Wandering downstairs in a sheer white summer robe, she told herself to enjoy the calm, cool quiet of the empty house. But every thought returned to Tristán, the shocking secret he shared, and the embarrassment of her plea. And all that returned to the same thing; she still wanted him.