They parked themselves on the edge of what was usually a sidewalk, knees pulled almost to their chests, balancing paper plates bearing fried dough smothered in powdered sugar. Theresa broke off a piece and coughed a little bit as she inhaled the sugar stirred into the air. She pressed the sweet warm dough in to her mouth, savoring the taste as she chewed slowly.
The question was burning her. She couldn't push it away any longer.
"So how's Lily?" she asked Ryan, and he nearly choked on his funnel cake, gagging a little.
"Haven't talked to her," he muttered, looking away before adding, "She won't return my calls."
"You called her?" Theresa asked before realizing what a dumb question that was. Of course he did. Lily lived all the way across town, not next door. Still...
Ryan shrugged, nibbling a bit too fast. "She's not in to me," he said, his voice even and matter-of-fact. "There's no point."
"Well, she's stupid," Theresa said. Not thinking. She wasn't thinking. She needed to think before she said these kinds of things.
"No she's not," Ryan said. "I'm no catch. What have I got to offer, anyway?"
"You're great in bed," Theresa suggested. She had thought about that one and grinned to herself, enjoying his reaction as he gagged on his funnel cake again. "I'm just sayin'. She's missin' out."
"Oh, well, we did sleep together," he said casually, and this time it was Theresa who nearly choked on her funnel cake.
"You did? Uh, when?"
"When I took her home after the movie last week."
"Wow." She didn't know what to say. "Aren't you the stud."
He shrugged. "Yeah. Uh. She wasn't in to it. She's really not in to me, Theresa. It's not happening."
Her mouth hung open. Something was wrong with Lily. Something was seriously wrong with that girl... "Ryan – I'm sorry-"
"Yeah, I don't care." He was trying to look convincing... "I tried."
What did friends do in these situations? Help each other out. Wasn't that right? "Do it again," she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact.
Ryan wrinkled his nose at her, still shoveling dough in his mouth a little too fast. "That's what I said to you about Patrick Terrell."
She smiled off towards the carousel in the distance. "I remember."
"Did it work with him?"
"Oh, hell no. He's still queer as a two-headed turtle."
Ryan grinned and swallowed another mouthful of funnel cake. "Yeah. So. I heard people sayin' you're seein' someone?"
Her hand froze halfway to her mouth. "No. I mean yeah. I mean... Yeah, it's – nothing, really."
"Were you gonna mention it?"
She tried to act casual, discarding a singed piece of funnel cake on the ground. It bounced along the curb and landed in the gutter. She stared at it. "No, hey, it's not that big a deal."
"Anybody I know?"
He was genuinely curious. Which meant he genuinely didn't know. Which made her stomach clench even more. "No."
He hesitated. "It's not-"
"Who? Ryan." She felt cold. Did he-?
"Is it Mike?"
Theresa released the breath she'd been holding. "God, no!" She stared at him, shocked.
"Good. Cause I'd hurt him." The look on his face left no question as to his sincerity.
"I know. I promise it's not Mike."
"Okay. Cause I said you can go with whoever you want-"
"Long as they treat me right," Theresa said, smiling. "I remember." She stopped. "So can I ask you something now?"
"Guess so."
"Are you okay? I mean, at home?"
"Yeah." He was focusing on his funnel cake now, eating faster. "Why, uh, wouldn't I be?"
"I don't know, I – A.J. He kind of-"
"Bugs?" Ryan finished. "Yeah."
She sighed. "Do you need... I don't know. Anything?"
"C'mon." He stared at her. "I can take care of myself."
"I know, I-"
"I'm used to it. I mean, things suck, and today, but-" He shook his head. "Look, you really oughta stay out of it."
"What happened today?"
He wasn't finished. He wasn't ready for her to interrupt. Not this time. "The last thing you need is to get involved with it. Heck, the last thing I need is for you to get involved."
That did it. Now she had gone from mildly concerned to credibly worried. "Then what do you need?"
"For you to understand that I'm fine!" he exploded. "I'm not some charity case! I don't need everybody lookin' after me."
Like he looked after everybody else.
He was rambling now, his voice higher, on the verge of breaking. "Just let me take care of myself. I don't want you to do it for me."
"So it's really okay." She wasn't sure.
"It is! I promise-" A sudden strange look crossed his face.
"Are you okay?"
"I just said-"
"No, I mean now."
He held his stomach. "I just feel-" He trailed off, looking greener.
"Oh, no – Ry..."
He tried to jump up and scramble for the nearest trash can but wasn't in time, and dropped to his knees by the curb as his stomach rejected a morning's worth of sugar in four strong retches.
Theresa knelt beside him, her fingers rubbing his back as he vomited, shaking with each ejection. She found herself automatically muttering something in Spanish that she didn't even understand any more, but she knew Eva had used those words with her long ago, back when they were still allowed to speak Spanish at home.
Ryan, on all fours on the sidewalk, bowed his head, gasping for breath. He spat onto the asphalt.
"C'mon, baby, you all right?" she asked gently.
He nodded and she removed her hand from his back, then stood back up, ready to grab him as he rose to his feet, swaying a bit. But he was fine. He shot a sideways glance at her hand, and she tucked it to her side.
"Sorry," he said. His voice shook only a little bit.
She moved away from the puke puddle and he followed. Somebody else could clean it up. They were paid for it. "C'mon. You need water."
He bowed his head, clearly embarrassed as he wiped at the corners of his mouth. She led him to the nearest food stand, but as she put her hand on his back to support him, she felt him shy away again. She didn't understand, but she took her hand down.
If Ryan didn't want her help, it made no sense to force him. She had learned long ago that there was no point once Ryan Atwood had really made up his mind.
Theresa waited for Ryan to dump his bike on his own porch before they both walked back to her house. He had regained some of his color, but had been quiet for the better part of an hour now.
Ryan leapt on to the stoop and beat her to the door. So he was the one to see them first.
"Hey. There you guys are."
She felt her blood bubbling as she chased after him to find Eddie and Arturo at the kitchen table looking over the sports section. Eddie's eyes met her, first asking, then accusing. She looked away.
"We saw you at the carnival," Ryan said, and Theresa wanted to smack him in to silence. Sometimes he could be so quiet; why not now for god's sakes? "You guys disappeared before we could find you."
"Yeah, we were bored," Eddie said, looking straight at her. She continued staring at the kitchen, where her mother was spooning ice cream in to three bowls.
"Ice cream, Ryan?" Eva asked, scoop in mid-air as she reached for a bowl in the cupboard.
He looked queasy again. "Thanks. Uh – no."
"Therese?"
"No, Ma." She bit her lip.
"What are you guys up to?" Ryan asked, sliding in beside Eddie, who scooted away from him an inch. Ryan didn't seem to notice. But Eva did, Eva always did... She shot a questioning look at Theresa.
"Not much," Arturo said, watching Eddie with an unflinching eye. "We might watch some NASCAR. Later on."
"Sounds good," Ryan said. He looked up at Theresa. "Aren't you gonna sit down?"
"Yeah, aren't you?" Eddie echoed.
"I – I don't-" She dodged for the kitchen. "Do we have any grape soda?"
She dove in to the fridge and rummaged aimlessly for several seconds, shoving aside milk and lettuce and juice until she felt the door pulling away from her. She looked up through a stray clump of hair to see her disapproving mother above her. She looked back down, ashamed.
"Theresa," Eva said in her calmest tone. "I want to show you something. In my room."
With a sigh, Theresa clung to her alibi, the last lonely can of grape soda, and trudged into her mother's room. Eva pulled the door shut behind her.
"What is this?" Eva asked, her voice quiet and still. "What are you doing?"
Theresa met her mother's eyes. "It's not – I'm-"
"Which boy are you seeing? Eddie? Or Ryan?"
"Eddie," Theresa whispered, terrified her voice would carry.
"And Ryan? He knows this?"
She looked down at last. "No."
"And why not?"
"Because – he – he'd be angry."
"So he wants you to lie to him. He likes lying now, does he? This is not the Ryan I know."
"Mama!"
"Are you lying?"
"I'm not, I-" Theresa looked up helplessly. "I can't tell him! How do I tell him?"
"Three words, my dear," Eva said drily. "'I'm seeing Eddie'."
"You don't understand! His mama, and AJ-"
"I understand. I do. You think I was always so old?"
"Mama-"
"Don't 'Mama' me, Therese. This is my turn to talk." Eva waited, giving Theresa room for a comeback, but Theresa resigned herself to settle on to the bed, leaving her unopened soda on the nightstand. "Ah. Good."
Theresa leaned forward, resting her chin on her fists. At least she could look like she was interested.
"I used to be young and stupid too, you know." Theresa had to smile at that.
Eva stared at herself in the mirror. For a moment Theresa wondered what her mother had looked like when she was young and stupid. They didn't have photos. Eva had grown up too poor. She wouldn't have that for her children. They had pictures everywhere. Baby albums full of pictures. Theresa could trace her entire life in photographs. And yet she realized, as she perched on the bed, that she didn't have the slightest idea about her mother's life before the camera had entered it.
"You think you invented it, having more than one boy? I'll tell you, Mami, you did not. I did. I invented it." She drummed her hands on her dresser. "Twenty-two years old and I invented it. I had one, dependable, and a good man. Almost all the time." She took a deep breath.
"I'll tell you something. I know this. You can't choose you who love. You can't. It just happens, and it's like a train wreck, and there's nothing you can do to stop it, it controls you."
"You loved two men?" Theresa's head was spinning. Twenty-two? She tried to figure out the math in her head.
"No. I loved one. One loved me."
Theresa nodded, understanding this. She understood this all too well. "How did you choose?"
This startled Eva from her trance. "Choose?" she echoed.
"Yeah – which one did you choose? The safe one? Or the one you loved?" She held her breath, waiting for the right answer, for the guidance she needed.
Eva was quiet for a long moment. "You stupid girl," she said at last, her voice far from cruel. "You don't understand. If I had chosen? Everything would be different. Not like this."
Theresa stared at her, aghast. She said nothing.
"I said, 'How can I choose?' And then I said, 'If there are two, surely I will find one who has everything that I want.'" She shrugged. "And I never did."
"And the boys? ...Men?"
"Themselves? Are both long gone." Eva took to straightening the jewelry on her dresser. "Of course I have to think about them every day." She glanced over at Theresa. "Both of them."
Theresa twisted her hands together. "Mama... but..."
Eva could see the questions on her face. "You are not so stupid that you do not understand what I am saying."
"Then..." Theresa squinted. "So, the one you loved was... was my father."
Eva shook her head. "That is not so important. What is important is you. You deserve better. Otherwise I would not tell you this. Because..." She stopped and sighed. "I was not supposed to tell you this."
Theresa bit her lip and nodded.
"And one more thing, Therese."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Arturo – please. He doesn't-" She broke off. Of course. He didn't need to know which one. Theresa didn't want to know, either. But as usual, she had pushed things to far, and now here she was.
"I won't tell him, Mom," she promised.
"Good," Eva said, satisfied.
"Thanks," Theresa said, standing.
"What are you going to do now?" a weary Eva asked.
Theresa brushed her lap off. "I'm going to make my choice."