Muse Monday: ALL I've written so far! 3 whole chapters here!

Please note that this is a VERY rough first draft, since it's original posting it has undergone an unholy amount of editing and there's a few more chapters now! So, take it for what it is: raw and unedited. Make any critiques you like in the comments!

CH 1

[Rocky]

I lied to everybody, not because I needed to or because I wanted to. It's just hard to tell the truth when you lie to yourself more than anyone else. And to be honest (for once), I liked it that way. It was easier.

November

The engine purred awake with no more than the push of a button. Seconds later, a gentle warmth spread across the leather seat, soothing all the tension from my frozen muscles. It was only 6:30, but the elusive New England sun had already set on another wasted day. The moonlight practically made my pale face glow in the rear view mirror. I looked like a ghost. I was definitely ready to go home. I needed to get laid.

By the time I got to my floor I could hardly keep my eyes open, after three midterms my mind was running on auto pilot.

The air wafting from our apartment was a pungent mix of sesame oil, soy sauce, and red curry. The promise of a hot meal propelled me forward, reviving me enough to notice a neon orange post it stuck to the door. It was a third-attempt warning for a package. Strange, I hadn't seen the first two. The smell of chilli peppers cleared my head, a UPS man had passed me in the stairwell.

I snatched the paper off the door and dragged myself back down the stairs to catch him. “Hey, I'm 4C,” I called, “got something for me?”

He turned slowly, his face was haggard in a way I could relate to. He held a card board box the size of a baseball in his hands. The man nodded, handing me the package. The return address was marked San Antonio, Texas. The box was not for me.

I used my key to slice the tape open and turned the box over into my palm. In it was another box, a black satin jewelry box. The muscles in my jaw fastened shut as I glanced at the lethargic mail man, but he smiled back at me now.

My nostrils flared. The box was too small for a necklace or a bracelet, it could only hold two other kinds of jewelry. And my only piercing was in my left nostril. Damn it!

I used my thumb to flip up the lid and sure enough an antique diamond ring was nestled in the white silk. My eyes flashed to the truck driver and his congratulatory smile faded. After what can only be described as a growl escaped my lips his wide eyes shifted to the clip board in his hands. Wisely, he forged a generic and illegible signature for me as he fled from my building.

I felt the initial panic flood through me, the surge of fear and discomfort I'd always associated with commitment. Nothing could have induced a more torrential anxiety attack than an impending proposal. In my mind accepting an engagement ring was comparable to wearing my dogs choke chain.

I glared at the box in my hand, shutting the lid with a loud snap. Just thinking about the implications of this thing left me hyperventilating. Before the panic could overpower me I let the twinge of anger on the outskirts of my true feelings spread, leaving tinder where the other emotions had been. Anger worked for me, I welcomed it. Rage needed no further analysis of my hypothetical future. I could just zero in on the person responsible and ignore everything else.

Enraged, I stormed through the unlocked door already yelling, sliding between Spanish and English at random. In our tiny kitchen Alex stood frozen, holding a takeout box filled with white rice. His mouth hung open in shock. I realized that he had no idea why I was yelling, but I was too furious to speak with complete sentences. I shrugged out of my book bag before I chucked the open box onto the kitchen table and threw my hands in the air, “Gah!”

I waited for him to say something, but he stared at the jewelry box as if he'd never seen one. Before he had a chance to figure it out, I was already down the hall, slamming the bedroom door and locking it behind me. “I am not my fucking sister.” I muttered.

Gabby would have been thrilled. Idiot. She was just 18 years old, but she had her fucking wedding planned since she was in pampers. Everything in her goddamn world revolved around training to be Little Suzy Homemaker for her prick boyfriend. Better yet, my parents were constantly gushing about how Gabby, my baby sister, had such a bright future. Doing what? Wiping the babies ass with her Princeton diploma and waiting for Captain Underpants to come back from overseas? No thanks.

I leaned against the door for a moment, fuming. I was not in the mood for this, not that I was ever in the mood to argue. Regardless, it took me less than a minute to decide what I would do. I was leaving. Obviously I didn't expect things would work themselves out in my absence, but that was how I'd always dealt with confrontation. This was the epitome of confrontation and I needed an escape hatch. Now.

Why am I always the one leaving? It's my apartment... I deliberated for a moment. Fuck it.

I dug through the pile of laundry that carpeted my walk in closet until I found my much abused gym bag. I did this often enough that keeping a pre-packed bag would've made sense, but I've never been very practical. So once again I sat on our bed and packed up my essentials for the night. I threw a pair of red plaid pajama pants and a hand full of tank tops into the bag, followed by a pair of fuzzy black slippers. I paused, trying to think of anything I forgot. Nothing came to mind, and I would only be gone for a day or two anyways so I wasn't worried about it.

Before I zipped up my bag to leave, I looked around my. . . our bedroom. It still made me cringe to think of myself as being tied down at all- even though I asked him to move in - I didn't like that it wasn't just my apartment or my bed anymore.

A familiar voice interrupted my derailed train of thought,“Rocky, what the hell are you doing in there? Can you please open the door?”

I paused. Why couldn't I just talk about it with him? Normal people talk about crap like this. With all the shit I put him through, it was amazing I was the only one who'd ever left.

Wracking my brain for excuses to leave, I settled on my last midterm paper. So instead of opening the door like a normal person, I tossed my lap top into the pile and put on my thicker winter coat. Even without the paper I would have found a reason to say the same thing, “No. Alex, I'll be around in a few days, alright? Just give me some space.”

Thunk, most likely the sound his head resting in defeat against the bedroom door, which I realized was my only exit.

Shit.

Not that he would tackle me or anything, I didn't have the guts to face him. In the full length mirror that stood in the corner, I noticed the sliding glass door behind me, which led onto a balcony. . . the proverbial light bulb went off. But it was snowing. I looked down at my flip flops and groaned, nevertheless I pulled the door open and tossed my bag into the snow covered grass below. I shivered convulsively while holding my computer like a football. Taking a deep breath I tried to brace myself for both the impact and the two inches of snow below my 2^nd story balcony, and sitting on the railing I stepped off the side and fell to the ground. Ouch.

Once I got into my car I looked back up at the sliding glass door to see that Alex must have picked the lock just a few seconds too late. I tried not to read his lips as he waved limply, but somewhere in the back of my mind it registered that he probably said “I love you”.

It had started out a very normal day, it was not suppose to be so goddamned dramatic. My life was usually like an old pair of jeans, worn in and comfortable. Once, that was only a description of how I dressed, but now my sense of style had deteriorated to sweat pants and flip flops. Most things in my life had slowly become vanilla. It was mind numbing.

I suppose jumping from my balcony had it's advantages, it briefly fed my constant craving for adrenaline. Very briefly. Once I was safely in my car, driving away from a conversation I was no where near ready to have, I went to pull my phone out of my pocket. But it was empty. I left it in my book bag, and my book bag was next to the kitchen table. Great.

Luckily, where I was going, no formal invitation was necessary. Lilly had been my best friend since we were in grade school, she was possibly the only girl I could tolerate being around- including my sister. During adolescence we were partners in crime, both literally and figuratively speaking. When we were in high school we always said we would move to New York City and become flight attendants for JFK. Travel the world, never the same day twice. Well at least we made it out of Illinois, but in a lot of ways college had clipped my wings.

I knocked on her door sheepishly, knowing that- although she wouldn't push for details- she would already know what brought me there. She answered the door in a Smashing Pumpkins concert tee and baggy pajama pants rolled down to her hips. Her head was covered in tin foil panels, like a shiny silver roof for her brain. With a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth she waved me inside. She skipped to the bathroom to spit.

I carefully stepped over the Lego castle that blocked off the living room, it occurred to me that the architect was being unusually quiet, “Where's Pablo?” I asked.

Pablo was Lilly's three year old son. When we came to college Lilly was an artist and she lived to paint. I knew one day she'd be famous and I'd be able to tell people, “Oh yes, I've known Lilly D'Angelo my whole life.” Two weeks into our freshman year we went to a frat party. Now she's a hair stylist.

“At his dad's, he has him Wednesday through Friday now.” she mumbled before spitting, “So do you wanna talk about it?” she she said poking her head out the door, her eye brows pushed together with discomfort. Lilly dealt with feelings about as well as I did.

I shook my head, “Not today, lets watch a movie”.

So that's exactly what we did, as always, we watched Good Will Hunting and talked about sex. This time we discussed the pro's and con's of fake orgasms, instead of the fact that I jumped off of a balcony to escape commitment. At first.

“So when are the aliens coming?” I said, staring at her head.

“Tuesday.” she laughed. “No, I got bored. I'm trying auburn on top and black underneath.” Now that she knew how to do it herself, Lilly dyed her hair constantly.

“Anyways. . . what about Frank?” she asked me with half a mouth full of popcorn. 'Frank the Tank' is my uncoordinated English Bulldog, he is the only male I have ever been able to make any life long commitment to.

“I think Alex can handle him for a couple days. He loves Frank.” I said. She nodded slowly. Nervously. I could see the question she really wanted to ask waiting on the tip of her tongue.

“And what about Alex?” she smirked as she said this, probably knowing how I would respond.

“Hmm. Well I'm sure Frank can handle him for a couple days, they're both house broken.” Lilly smiled and shook her head as I answered, and the movie took our attention again. But during the scene where Matt Damon opens up to the shrink I started squirming, and before Lilly could raise that stupid eyebrow of hers at me I got up to get a water bottle from the fridge. I lingered in the kitchen. Staring at the refrigerator door, covered in photographs. One photo stood out, me and Lilly, wearing what I wish I could say were Halloween costumes. We were the definition of 1990's Grunge, just ten years late. My hair was pinned into an up-do that made me look like a peacock and Lilly's was three different colors. It was our first day of high school, just six months before we started working. We used to be so innocent.

As I turned the corner Lilly was waiting for me, staring me down like a panther. “What?”

“You know what. Whats going on with you and Alex?” I could detect the curiosity in her voice, but not in a gossipy sort of way. That's the best thing about Lilly- she actually cared.

“Did he, uh, ask again?” she said the word with a certain thickness that vaguely exposed her envy.

I rolled my eyes as opposed to actually answering, she knew what happened when I knocked on her door. This thickness also brought up my own envy, I wished I felt the contentment that Lilly would feel if she'd been proposed to, but I could barely choke out an “I Love You”.

Alex had been pushing marriage as if premarital sex has some sort of reverse statute of limitations in the Catholic Church. Alex Torres was raised in a first generation Mexican-American family, steeped in Catholic doctrine.

I, on the other hand, rejected Catholicism before I was even in middle school. I threatened my father that I would make my Conformation name Magdalene. As in Mary of Magdalene. Given our religious orientations alone, the fact that Alex and I ever got together was surprising. Making the fact that he wanted to marry me incomprehensible, and trust me I was not the only one who thought so, just ask his mother.

In the morning I woke up face down on Lilly's couch, my spine chastising me for my cowardice. But I reminded my spine that staying home would have been just as painful, as it would take some really impressive make up sex to distract him this time. Every time we had this fight he dug his heels in deeper. Which was part of why I chose to jump off a balcony instead. I was a sucker for guilt trips, and I put myself on one every time I saw the rejection in his face. Like the first time he proposed. I couldn't believe how hard he took it, so that night I cooked dinner naked. Conversation over.

But last night was much worse. Abuelita, his grandmother, sent him her goddamned wedding ring. If she knew, who else in his family knew? What if my family knew? What a mess. I was surprised that he would try again so soon, he knew me better than that. Hell, he was better than I probably deserved, but the idea of getting married was enough to make me go into anaphylactic shock.

I told Lilly about my escape over Pop Tarts, I avoided making eye contact like my life depended on it, I could feel the twinge of resentment in her stare.

“So anyways, I have a massive paper to write for Pan Asian Cinema due at 6 and I knew I'd never finish it if I stayed, so I just left.” I said trying to shift the topic.

As usual, she knew my agenda and cooperated, “Why the hell are you taking that by the way? What does that have to do with Spanish?” she said laughing at me. The Liberal Arts School concept was as transparent to Lilly as it was to me, I just happened to be giving in to it. Lilly dropped out the second semester of our freshman year and went for cosmetology at the community college down the road. So, she was actually paying her own rent. I, on the other hand, was financially dependent on my parents, who paid my rent, sent money for food, and paid my tuition.

I laughed in spite of my irritation, “I have to take a Fine Arts class, and it was easier than taking Art History,” I sighed, “I am the quintessential university cash cow.” Instantly regretting the farm animal reference.

“Baaaah” she challenged, her eyebrow raised over a smug smirk.

I rolled my eyes and grabbed my bags, heading for the door. I couldn't shake the sensation that I was forgetting something important. Oh, well. I attributed it to not having my cell phone on me.

Outside, the snow had melted but my car was buried under a mountain of leaves, and the melted snow had frozen over so they were plastered the glass. So it took a good fifteen minutes just to rake them off my windows. While I drove to campus I reminisced on all of our childhood schemes and ambitions, we were so damned determined to get away from home, anywhere but Chicago.

Living in a college town on the east coast was exactly like living in a scenic tourist postcard, especially this time of year. The leaves overflowed into the streets, blanketing the ground in a hundred shades of red and gold. But no matter how many leaves were on the ground, the foliage in these ancient tree's never seemed any thinner. It was truly picturesque.

It made me miss home, where beauty came in less predictable forms. I missed the way graffiti was scrawled on the side of vacant buildings, I missed how plant life refused to be evicted – always finding its way back through cracks in the cement, and I missed the contrast of the river winding naturally through the buildings. Growing up in Chicago had instilled in me an appreciation for the unique beauty of raw industrial materials. I loved how life- human or not- seemed to take hold of the city, making it organic again. This place was too. . . pristine. I yearned for my grungy city.

I stared at the clock on my dash, 9:27am. Even though I was a half hour early for class, a tiny voice somewhere in the back of my mind insisted I was running late. If I had my damn phone I could have checked my calendar. I shrugged.

My gym bag flopped over when I pulled into the last open space, a clear orange bottle rolling out and under the glove compartment. It was a good thing too, I didn't like taking my pills in front of people so I skipped them at breakfast with Lilly. The nearly empty bottle brought my nagging worry out of my subconscious and into center stage.

I had a therapy appointment at 9:30 am, “Son of a bitch!”

I threw the car in reverse and ground my teeth in irritation. Driving slower than necessary on my way to the counseling center – wasting as much time as I could – I tried to sort through what I would say.

I glared at the bottle and the two capsules rolling around inside, if they weren't absolutely necessary I never would have made an appointment. I would rather shove bamboo splinters under my finger nails than talk the another psychologist. I had a new therapist almost every year since I was 13. My parents interpreted a little teenage angst and rebellion as psychosis. I don't know what scared them more – the chance that my escapades would tarnish our family reputation or the idea of actually talking to me for more than ten minutes. Either way, I was passed from shrink to shrink in the hopes that one of them might convince me to be the preppy Jr. WASP my parents wanted. I just got more pissed off, eventually I started screwing with them. I started making up incredible stories of parental strife that never happened. Once I said that I found hard core gay porn in my dad's brief case, now that was fun.

I parked at a meter and put in enough for 15 minutes. It still felt just like going to confession with the priest, I had nothing to say- what I did was my business and I had no regrets. I knew the only thing that came from telling a pompous old man my secrets was judgment and pressure to conform. Really I'd come to hold that as a general rule for all people. Just nod and smile.

CH 2

Therapy was such a joke, and if my doctor wanted to keep his stethoscope out of his ass he would give me my goddamned refill now. The air outside the counseling center was crisp, and even though I wasn't a fan of the cold it helped evict the remaining traces of claustrophobia from her office. When I reached my glossy black coupe I smiled at the meter, one minute left. I got rid of her in 14 minutes, that was a personal record. Not wanting to waste a perfectly good parking space, I put two more quarters in the meter and headed for my Spanish Peninsular Liturature.

I could admit it, this place was beautiful. The leaves seemed to be in endless supply up here, no matter how many of them littered the ground, the trees were still rich with foliage. But the architecture made me cringe, it was just as lovely as it's natural surroundings. In true Cape Cod style, each window sill dripped with an air of wealth that could only be found in New England. The colonial brick buildings on campus were a more than one hundred years old, each tall white window framed by black shutters and wrought iron details. The siding of every house was lined in gray cedar shingles, aged from the sea spray and the sand. Here that kind of decay was called “classic”, back in Chicago it was called the projects. Not that I wanted to live in a dumpster or anything, but damn, at least when I said I lived in Chicago it didn't give me away.

I settled into a squeaky desk, the only one left, between the two most pretentious jerks in the room. The ignorant comments that poured out of these two had me looking at my pen, longing to gouge out my own ear drums. Times like that made me envy my Grandpa, anytime someone was being a moron he would pretend to scratch his head as he turned off his hearing aide on the sly.

Why I bothered to go to class at all was beyond me. While the professor droned on about Don Quixote, I was on my lap top writing the fifth page of a ten page paper about Bollywood.

By 5:45pm I pulled the last 5 pages out of my ass, which is the only place a paper on Pan Asian Cinema can be found. I walked into the class, turned in my work, and walked right back out. The way I saw it, I might as well just rip off the band aide and get it over with. At end of the day I had spent ninety percent of my time debating on which would be worse; facing Alex or another reality check from Lilly. I decided that sex would be necessary after either, and since Lilly and I weren't that close, I dragged myself back to the apartment. Plus, I missed my dog, Frank.

Frank was the perfect male because he did not have vocal cords capable of speech. Plus he watched my favorite TV shows with unparalleled enthusiasm, he always loved my cooking, and I was fairly certain he would never propose to me. Alex was a close second though, he was better looking than Frank, he smelled better than Frank, and he was a much better kisser than Frank, but he just insisted on speaking.

Specifically, he insisted on talking about marriage, a four letter word in my mind. But really, Alex was an amazing man, and I'm sure he would make an excellent husband. But I had no intention of ever being a wife. One day I was going to have to explain that to him, so far, I had relied on our age as an excuse.

He put up with a lot being with me. He didn't seem to be precisely aware of it, but Alex was very attractive so he definitely could have shopped around. Why I was still with him was also a mystery, commitment was not in my nature. But something about him kept pulling me back, and that scared the crap out of me. Physically he was just my type, nearly a foot taller than me, tattooed, muscular, and broad shoulders. But mostly it was his smile that caught my attention, it was huge and the contrast between his dark skin and his white teeth was almost magnetic. Maybe that was it- Alex had gravitational force. And I was in orbit.

I pulled into the parking lot behind our apartment and lingered there. This would be awkward, it was always awkward. However, I did have a way with seduction. In retrospect it killed me that we'd had so much make up sex, it was great sex, but it was also always because of me. I could sense the cumulative effect it was having on our relationship, we were eroding with every wave.

When I opened the door Frank was at Alex's side on the couch, watching Cesar Milan: Dog Whisperer. When he saw me, Frank became airborne instantly, as if channeling Haley Berry in Cat Woman, but the moment he hit the floor he realized he was in fact my uncoordinated overweight bulldog. He slid on his back across the hardwood, crashing into a potted plant. I sighed, only my dog.

Alex looked up at me, expressionless, and sighed. My stomach was nearly sick with guilt. How many times would I do this to him?

I took Franks place on the couch and watched Cesar take down a pit bull. When Frank regained consciousness in the corner, even he could feel the tension between Alex and I, so he backed out of the room and took off down the hall to escape. A moment later I heard what sounded like a small avalanche, but I let it go. We watched the rest of the show, or at least we continued to stare straight ahead until the credits rolled.

Finally, Alex exhaled and though I didn't look at him I knew his eyes were shut tight and his hands were pushing through his hair. What I should have been doing was apologizing for acting like a child, for not discussing it like an adult, for hurting him again. But all I could manage to do was stare at the ceiling. Anyone else's mind would probably have been racing, but mine was completely blank, the Dali Lama would have envied my mental silence. I had just one thought, I really want a drink. This should have worried me, but it didn't. Ever since Alex moved in I stopped keeping alcohol in the apartment, so it was irrelevant. 

“If you'd waited...” he paused to steady his voice, “I could have told you. . . that I had nothing to do with the damn ring.” he opened his eyes and looked at the side of my frozen face.

“She just sent it, I didn't ask her to.” his voice turned sour at the end, I could hear the message loud and clear, he was thinking; It's not like you'd say yes.

“Oh.” I should have figured, he wasn't stupid. His grandmother- unlike his mom- absolutely adored me, constantly pestering him to get me down the isle.

“I'm sorry for being such a bitch about it.” I still hadn't looked at him, I just rested my head on the back of the couch. The truth of my words pulled up some very unpleasant emotions, which I instinctively stamped out like cigarette butts. Cramming them into a part of my head that was quickly running out of real estate. I constantly wondered, how someone so normal could be willing or able to live with me, much less love me?

We sat in silence, a more comfortable one, for a few minutes. I could feel his posture slump into a relaxed slouch. I could see that smile of his in my peripheral vision, “Did you really jump out of a window?” It was not actually question, he was laughing.

Taken off guard by the shift in tone, I could not hide my smile or prevent myself from snorting. “Hey, it's a balcony, not a window.”

He shook his head and laughed again. We were good.

I got up off the couch and walked over to the bathroom. The door ajar, it would be easy to see the tub from the sofa. And I knew exactly what I was doing. I shot one cocky glance over my shoulder and leaned in to turn on the shower. Just as the water began to run, two warm arms wrapped around my waist.

Heat shot down my neck, his mouth against my skin. Alex crossed his hands over my hips and turned me around. Leaning back for a moment, he looked down at me, his brown eyes scrutinizing my face. I stretched on my tip toes desperate to reach his face again, but he lifted me off my feet, setting me on the edge of the sink, we were eye to eye. Our breathing was ragged and I could hear his heart beat almost as clearly as my own.

During a brief moment when our lips were not connected I managed to whisper, “I'm so sorry”.

My fingers searched blindly for the bottom of his t-shirt and dragged it over his skin, struggling because my own torso was so pressed tightly against him. Alex lifted his arms when I was finally able to pull his shirt up around his chest, it fell to the ground with a unusually loud thud. When his face returned to me I darted towards his neck, tracing the contours of his collar bone. I felt him shudder as I moved slowly towards his jaw.

His face turned slightly so that his mouth touched my ear, “Don't be.” He took my chin and tilted my face to meet his. He was absolutely serious and- as though I didn't know- he said, “I love you.”

The corners of my eyes ached and my throat felt heavy. Every cell in my body wanted to turn away, but his hands held me there. His eyes touched something, pulling it to the surface just long enough for me to speak for it, “I love you too.” But I can't make you happy, I thought.

The steam from the hot water filled the room, Alex glanced at the shower, then back at me. We were still half dressed, but he didn't seem to care. As he lifted me, I wrapped my legs around his waist, welding myself to his chest.

CH 3

A deep dreamless sleep slipped off of me like a silk sheet, without much reason at all I was perfectly awake at 8 o'clock on Saturday morning. Alex, on the other hand, was still sound asleep beside me. The frigid autumn air seemed to be leaking through the sliding glass door, so I buried my face in his chest. The smell and feel of his skin against me felt so much like home, but that level of comfort was so alien, even after two years. With his arms both curled around me, I traced the delicate borders of the crucifix that covered his right bicep with my finger tip. The corners of his mouth twitched and he pulled in a deep breath, his arms flexing and tightening around me. Though he was more than half asleep, Alex's dark brown eyes bored into mine and then looked down at my minimalist take on pajamas. His eyes were suddenly much more alert and I could feel the vibration from his quiet laughter all around me as he brought his lips to mine.

"The things that I would do to you. . ." he paused and glanced at the clock, "if it were two hours later." He yawned and chuckled.

"I can wait." I laughed as I leaned in for one last peck.

“Te amo.” he murmured.

“I love you too.”

As Alex's eyes drifted back down, my stomach growled so loud I half expected him to wake up.

After throwing on a pair of his sweat pants I wandered into the kitchen, nibbling on a pear while I deliberated. The Cap'n Crunch supply was dangerously low, so I pulled the waffle maker down from the cabinet and started hunting for the pancake mix I could have sworn we had lying around somewhere. In the very back of the last cupboard was a dusty box of Aunt Jamima Instant Pancake Mix, buried behind six metric tons of Kibbles and Bits. Which reminded me, I ought to feed Frank while I'm at it. I filled a measuring cup with dog food, but when I rounded the corner into the living room Frank was camped out next to his bowl, snoring away, holding his leash in his mouth. A surge of guilt hit me as I realized that, with all the crap going on, I hadn't taken the dog for a walk in days. And if my extraordinarily lazy dog was this determined to exercise, Alex must have forgotten too. The sound of food hitting his dish woke Frank instantly and his big wrinkly face disappeared into the bowl.

Outside the window the leaves were still, so I decided to take advantage of the weather while it was decent. I could make breakfast when I got back, Alex wouldn't be up until ten anyways. Frank sat next to the door panting that lovely nasal grunt of his, and I'm sure that if he had a tail, he would have been wagging it. The sleeves of my pea coat were still covered in cat hair from home, but it was getting too cold for just a sweat shirt lately.

Once we stepped out of the apartment complex Frank moved faster than I'd ever seen him, so fast it could almost be considered running. Alex and I really needed to get our shit together, for the dog if nothing else. Or maybe it was just me, I needed to get my shit together. The further we got from home the more beer cans and cigarette butts littered the lawns. Frat houses. I hadn't been in to a frat party in, oh, two years now. Hell, I hadn't had a drink in two years.

We had started up a hill when Frank let out a labored groan, two feet later he flopped to the ground and assumed the position. . . to take a nap. At the same time, my cell phone started vibrating in my pants pocket. The screen read Lilly, "Hey, how's life?" I answered. I yanked on Franks leash with no response, he seemed to be orchestrating a one dog sit in as a form of peaceful protest. Lazy bastard.

"Hey, um, not so good actually. Would you mind watching Pablo for me? Just for a couple hours." she said, her voice sounded fragile, almost brittle.

"Uh, yeah, of course. Is everything okay?" I didn't like to hear her this way, there was only one person who broke her down like that.

"I'm fine, Carlos just wants to talk and you know how we can get. I don't want Pablo to be around it."

"No problem Lil, bring him over whenever you need to I'll be there in a minute, I'm just walking the dog."

"Thanks, I'll be there in a few."

I was excited to see the baby, Alex and I used to watch him every Sunday so that Lilly could have so time to herself, to paint mostly. Before she had Pablo, Lilly painted more than she slept, so she named him after Picasso.

I cut my losses and carried my lethargic dog back home. When I opened the door Frank magically regained consciousness, imagine that. The smell of chocolate and butter had filled every corner of the apartment. One of Alex's favorite songs was coming from the kitchen. I loved his CD collection, you'd never find Mexican rap up here, and it was similar to what I used to listen to back home. He stood in the kitchen in just a pair of striped blue pajama pants holding a spatula over a steaming waffle iron, when he heard me close the door he looked up at me and smiled too. What an image, this could be sold to women as porn.

"Hey throw another one in there, looks like we're babysitting Pablo." I said over the music.

His smile wavered and became a wistful smirk, "Rain check on those things I was suppose to do to you at ten?"

"Definitely." I laughed.

No sooner than Pablo's M&M waffles hit the plate there was a feeble knock on the door. Lilly stood in the hallway, her smile was forced. Not for my benefit- she could never fool me- but for her sons'. I took her son by the hand and hugged her before she headed off to face Pablo's dead beat father. If she'd been ready to tell me why, she would have. Pablo on the other hand was entirely thrilled to be hanging out with Aunt Rocky and Uncle Alex for the afternoon. Unlike his new wave hippie mother, we do not use whole grain flour or wheat germ in our waffles. We all huddled around the TV with our waffles and milk and gave Pablo the final say, not surprisingly it was Sponge Bob Square Pants. For two hours Pablo giggled without pause and Alex and I sat with him on the couch. The image of me and Alex with a baby- who could easily pass for our own- made my teeth grind. Against my will his grandmothers engagement ring resurfaced in my thoughts. Why did everyone have to be so damn involved? She loved me to death, yes, I got that. But why did everyone have to constantly ask me, tease me, or tell me when I should be getting married? For fuck sake I'm only 22!

"Aunt Rocky sad?" Pablo asked with a face that may have mirrored my own, fear. He crawled into my lap and stood on my knees so that he could mold my face into the expression he wanted. His tiny fingers tried to iron out the crease between my eye brows and with a hand on each cheek he kissed my nose.

"Be happy now." He demanded with an air of authority that only Lillys' child could have.

"I'm so happy, P. Thanks babe." I whispered.

When he was satisfied Pablo smiled again and flopped back onto the throw pillow between Alex and me. I smiled at Alex, but it was too late, he stared back at me with concern in his eyes.

"I love you" I said.

Over the back of the couch where both of us had laid our arms he took my hand in his, "I love you too."

Between us Pablo threw up his hands and exclaimed, "Me too!"

I was elbow deep in soapy water when the buzzer rang, so Alex set surrendered to Officer Pablo and let Lilly up. While I was drying my hands I heard my phone vibrate on the coffee table. Alex answered it.

“Mrs. McAllister, I can't understand–” from the sound of it, Alex couldn't get a word in edge wise, so he handed me the phone, “It's your mom.”

“Rocky? Rocky?”

“Hi, mom what's going –” before I could even ask my mother was chattering away in her native Russian, a language I barely spoke. If I'd been paying attention, I could have picked up most of what she was saying, but I didn't feel like it.

Lilly knocked on the door, so I wedged the phone between my shoulder and my cheek and opened the door for her. She was a mess, mascara smeared across both cheeks and her eyes were swollen with tears. On the phone my mother was still rattling on about Thanksgiving and the airport, “Mom... Mom! I'll have to call you back.”

I slid the phone into my pocket, and my hands became fists so tight that the skin over my knuckles screamed in protest. I could kill Carlos, I could literally strangle that prick.

Down the hall I could hear Pablo coming, “Mommy!”

I looked back at Alex and mouthed, Get the baby! He was about to ask when he caught Lilly's expression. His face fell in pity, but his hands exposed the same anger as mine. He swooped down to catch Pablo just as he was barreling past and launched him up into the air, humming the Batman theme and galloping past us into the hall and down the stairs.

I turned back to Lilly, who was on the verge of sobbing. I grabbed a box of tissues out of the bathroom and gestured towards the hallway. We sat in the stair well, and I waited for her to talk. She held her face in her hands and the quiet sobs shook her body from head to toe.

Almost inaudibly, she gasped, “He doesn't want joint custody anymore.”

My heart just about stopped beating. “He wants to take the baby?” I nearly screamed.

She shook her head and sniffled, “No, he doesn't want custody at all. He said he'd rather just pay the extra child support.”

Every muscle in my body turned to stone, I never wanted to hit anyone so hard in my entire life.

“He'd rather pay extra than see his son three days a week. How am I supposed to explain that to Pablo?”

“I'm sorry Lil.” There was nothing I could say to fix it. It was like watching her drown.

Lilly looked me in the eye for the first time, “I don't want his money, I just want him to love his fucking kid! And I work twelve hour shifts when he has the baby, that's almost six hundred dollars. The child support won't go up even half that much.”

“Me and Alex can take him as often as you want, we'll just switch off between classes.” There was nothing I wouldn't do for her, but nothing I could do would make Carlos a good father. I turned and hugged her, when the tears soaked through my shirt, I realized they weren't just Lilly's.

She rested her head on my shoulder and we looked out the window at the front lawn. Across the parking lot, under a huge oak tree, Alex was chasing Pablo around a mountain of leaves, smiling and laughing. The sun would be setting soon and the light coming through the yellow leaves lit the tree and Pablo's sandy brown curls like a blazing gold fire. That child was a force of nature, I swear joy seemed to radiate from his pores. Clearly he got that from Lilly. Thankfully, his olive complexion seemed to be the only thing Pablo inherited from his father.

“That's all I ever wanted from him.” Lilly whispered, I'm not sure she had intended me to hear it.

When her tears were under control and after I fixed her make up, Lilly loaded Pablo into the car. She asked me softly if I was serious about the offer, “ Come on Lil, you know I'd do anything for you and P.”

Back inside the apartment Alex was finishing the dishes for me. I told him about Lilly and Carlos. Before I could bring it up he asked, “Why don't we take him? I mean, our classes don't overlap so why not?”

I smiled, “I was hoping you'd like that idea, because I sort of already told her we would.”

Alex rolled his eyes and laughed. So now we would be taking care of a toddler three days a week. Don't get me wrong, I love that kid and I was happy to watch him, but now the universe seemed to be getting on my case with this settling down crap too. Though, I had to admit, the way Alex was with kids was. . . kind of attractive. He didn't hesitate to put on a cowboy hat or dive head first into a pile of leaves.

“What did your mom want? Seemed like she was spazzing out.” Alex asked.

“Um, actually, I'm not sure. I wasn't really listening.” I admitted. I strained my memory for the details I did manage pick up, “From what I caught, it sounds like Nick is coming home early from the base for Thanks Giving. So they're going to pick us all up from the airport. I think.”

“Oh. That's... nice.” Alex choked out. My sisters boyfriend, Nick, was not one of Alex's favorite people. Or mine. Nick was a Naval officer from a wealthy Boston family and he was four years older than Gabby. Alex and Gabby have always been close, he is the obnoxious big brother she never had. So when she brought a 23 year old to prom, Alex was practically foaming at the mouth.

I really wasn't interested in talking about Nick. I had other things in mind.

“So, can I take you up on that rain check now?” I asked. A second later I was pinned to the floor. Mission accomplished.