A/N: I decided to come back from my hiatus a little early. It has been nice to have a break. It allowed me to get some more writing done, tweak my outline a little, and read some other things that I'd put off because I was writing.
The time in which I have Stephanie in college coincides with Douglass being fully absorbed into Rutgers and becoming a non-degree granting institution before she graduates. So things may seem a little weird, but who cares. It's fiction, right?
Despite my plans to save money, I bought a car after getting back to Newark. Trains were fine, but I had missed having a vehicle. I missed my Cayenne, but there was no way I could afford one with what I was making. I'd just have to be patient. I bought a black 1995 Honda Accord from someone in the neighborhood, and it served its purpose. I drove it to school and job sites, and occasionally other places when I couldn't stand being at home with my parents. Today, it was taking me to Douglass. Blending in would be a little hard considering it was an all-female campus, but it was with Rutgers, so I figured the girls had to have boyfriends coming over. There wasn't anywhere around the dorm entrance I could loiter without looking like a creepy stalker, so I opted to go to the dining hall next door. It was nine in the morning, and I knew Stephanie would not have been in for breakfast before nine on a Saturday. Mostly women and a few men filled the room. I took a table by the windows so I could watch for her. I'd brought my backpack and schoolwork with me to blend in better. I could just say I was waiting on my girlfriend. Which was sort of true. She was my girlfriend in the future, even if she didn't know me right now.
I considered my question to my grandfather the day I died. When I came back, did the Stephanie Plum I knew also come back? Would she know me? Was she having the same odd experience of being an adult in a teenage body? Or was this an alternate universe? I thought about the life and the world I had left behind and wondered if that universe still existed, where Stephanie was still dead, my parents grieved my death, and Rangeman was now under Tank's control. I would find out the answer to my question soon enough.
I'd been sitting in the dining hall for an hour when movement caught my attention and I finally saw her. Nineteen-year-old Stephanie Plum looked only slightly different from the one in her thirties. She was maybe ten pounds lighter than I'd known her and she had a fresh-faced, youthful look about her. She was wearing a green Douglass hooded sweatshirt, gray sweatpants, sneakers, and sunglasses. She was hungover. I fought the urge to smile as I saw her walk through the door. I couldn't see her in the line from my seat, so I got up to buy myself a bottled water. She was loading her plate with Boston Crème donuts and a banana, no doubt trying to tell herself she ate something healthy. I arrived at the drink station at the same time she did. I knew I shouldn't do it, but I couldn't stop myself from talking to her.
"Rough night?" I asked her. She groaned as she grabbed a bottle of water.
"I'm an idiot," she said. "I can't handle alcohol. I need to accept it."
I followed her up to the cash registers to pay. "A friend of mine says McDonald's French fries and a Coke are the best hangover remedy."
Stephanie's head perked up, and she turned around, though I couldn't see her eyes behind the glasses. "That sounds amazing. I'll have to try that next time. Thanks."
We waited in line while several other students paid. She hadn't seemed to recognize me, which meant she was just a normal nineteen-year-old. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. It was a relief to do things differently with her without past behavior coloring her impression of me, but I missed the closeness we'd had and would need to rebuild again. I was pulled out of my thoughts when she sighed heavily and mumbled to herself.
"You gonna live?" I asked her.
"It's debatable," she replied. She swiped a meal card through the machine. I paid with cash for my water and followed her. The room had filled up, and every table had at least one or two people at them. I walked around her to the table where my stuff was sitting and hoped she might follow me. I tried not to watch her, but a few seconds later found her standing in front of me.
"Care if I sit here?" she asked. I nodded, and she took a seat across the table from me.
"What campus are you on?" she asked. "Clearly, you aren't a Douglass student."
"What gave it away?" I asked innocently, looking down at myself. She snorted a laugh and took off her sunglasses. "I'm actually from the Newark campus. I'm considering a transfer down here. I thought I'd spend the day around the place and see what it's like. I started here and will work my way to the other end."
"No offense, but I'd be looking to get out of Newark too," she said. "Are you from there?"
"Yes, but I went to high school in Miami. I just got back in June. I hate it."
"Why did you leave?" she asked in an astounded tone.
"My father wanted me to come work for him while I went to school. I make decent money, but it comes at the cost of living with my parents in Newark."
"I can't say too much. I'm from Trenton," she said after chewing up a bite of donut. "I'm Stephanie by the way."
"Carlos." It was disconcerting to know she would know me as Carlos and not Ranger. But I preferred it. Ranger had been a guy who hadn't been able to separate his civilian and military lives well in the beginning. Carlos was a different man with much more experience and confidence.
We talked about the campus and Rutgers while she polished off her donuts. She told me she was undecided as a major and hoped to have it figured out by the end of the year. I told her I was studying business but had also considered the Army if college wasn't my thing. She assumed my interest in transferring to New Brunswick was because I was still trying to find out if I liked college.
"That didn't help," she said, staring at her empty bottled water and plate. "I think I'll try your friend's suggestion."
"She swears by it," I said. "I've seen her use it and come out the other side a new woman."
Stephanie glanced at her watch. "By the time I can get there, it'll be lunchtime," she said. She stood up and grabbed her plate and water bottle. "It was nice talking to you, Carlos. Thanks for the heads up about the McDonald's."
"I hope it works for you," I replied. "Any suggestions where I should go next?"
She considered me for a few seconds. "How did you get here?"
"I drove."
"If you'll drive me to McDonald's, I'll show you around," she said.
"Okay," I replied. I tried not to be alarmed by her willingness to get in a car with a complete stranger. I knew I would not hurt her, but it worried me to think about how many other times she might have done this. I reminded myself that she was only nineteen, both physically and mentally. I did all kinds of ill-advised shit the first time I'd been nineteen.
She went back to her dorm to change clothes, and I waited outside for her, my stomach in knots. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this way. Seeing her for the first time in over a year and nineteen years younger than she had been when she died felt like a fever dream. I knew her, but I didn't. This was the Stephanie Plum who would hit Joe Morelli with her car in a few months. I smiled and wondered if I could somehow be there when it happened.
"Okay, let's go," she said, reappearing fifteen minutes later. She had changed into a blue long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans. She followed me over to the parking lot and we climbed into my car. I asked her where to go and she pointed me toward a McDonald's that was on the way to the rest of the Rutgers campus. We didn't talk until we got to McDonald's.
"I'm impressed," I commented as I watched her eat. "You put away three donuts and now a large French fry."
"I'm told my Hungarian side has a good metabolism," she said. "I guess we'll see."
Conversation turned to our families, and I learned Valerie had just gotten married in September. Stephanie had been a bridesmaid, but not the maid of honor. They weren't that close. The dress had been hideous, and she had hidden from some of the groom's repulsive drunken cousins because they wanted to play grab ass. I told her more about why I'd gone to school in Miami and what my life there had been like. I was surprised to find myself so willing to talk. Even when we had been together, I'd been self-contained and rarely volunteered information.
We left McDonald's and headed to the nearest part of campus. We parked and walked around while Stephanie told me about different aspects of campus. I couldn't have answered a quiz on anything she told me about Rutgers because I was just happy to be with her. I tried not to worry about what this might mean for the future. It was just a walk through the campus. It wasn't like we'd be ripping each other's clothes off in the middle of the lawn. I tried not to think about the sexual tension Stephanie and I had in my last life, even once we had been exclusive. It had been palpable and overwhelming. I had to keep myself in check around her. I didn't want to come off too strong and freak her out.
If I thought our sexual tension was strong in our thirties, it was nothing to being nineteen. We had made it through the first part of campus and headed back to my car to drive to the next section. She was feeling better after the McDonald's hangover cure and had become more flirtatious. It was next to impossible not to throw everything I had at her. I wanted her. Bad.
We didn't even make it to the next part of campus. We had parked in a lot near the stadium to walk around another area but ended up making out. It was intense and desperate, like so many times before. We somehow made it to the backseat, which in the compact car wasn't much space for my six-foot frame, but I didn't care. She had taken her bra off but still had her shirt on. I had removed her jeans and was currently sucking on one of her nipples while my hand worked its way into her underwear.
"Do you have condoms?" she asked breathlessly. "I'm not on the Pill."
Thankfully, I kept a pack of condoms in my car's middle console. I'd learned my lesson with Rachel in the last life and wouldn't be unprepared again. I opened the console and grabbed the box. I pulled one out and set it aside for the moment. I removed her pale blue underwear and my own jeans. My erection was straining at my boxers, and I pulled them down to release it.
"Wow," she whispered as she looked at me.
"You have done this before, right?" I asked as I rolled on the condom. I knew the answer but wanted to see her response.
"Once," she said. "It was a couple of years ago. I haven't gotten this far since then."
I was inside her before either of us could say anything else and she moaned underneath me. My teenage hormones coursed through my veins, and I remembered the first time I had sex with Julio after coming back to this life. I couldn't get enough of her. She came a few minutes later, surprised by it. No doubt Morelli had finished and left her in need when he'd screwed her behind the éclair counter.
"Oh my God," she said, her face flushed and her hand on her heart. "That was amazing. Wow. Oh, my God."
"Yeah, it was," I agreed. I tried not to crush her, but I didn't think I could move right away.
We eventually found the strength to get redressed and looked around the parking lot, thankful that no one seemed to have been around to notice the car. It would have been obvious what was happening.
"If you want, we can go back to my dorm," she said, doing her best not to look too eager but also not pretending that we were continuing our campus tour. "My roommate moved out two weeks into the semester, so I have the room to myself right now."
We were back in her dorm room twenty minutes later and almost immediately stripping each other out of our clothes. I hadn't even been able to take in her room before we were falling into her unmade bed. I spent the next few hours ruining her for all other men, something I had promised to do in our last life together. I learned she had never received oral sex and was more than happy to introduce her to the practice. She was having a hard time keeping her moans quiet and if her neighbors were in their rooms, they would know exactly what she was doing.
"I swear I'm not the type of girl who sleeps with a guy I just met," she said to me as I sat up on the edge of her bed to get dressed. We had made our way through the condoms I'd brought in with me.
"I believe you," I said, running a hand down her leg. "I'm glad I could give you at least one first."
"Oh my God," she said, laying back on her pillow. "I didn't know that would be so good."
"I'm happy to help you out with that, "I said, leaning down to kiss her. "Anytime."
We exchanged phone numbers, and she walked me downstairs to the exit. I kissed her and promised to call before going back to my car. I didn't let myself relax until I was behind the wheel. I'd just had one of the best days of my life, but I was also worried about what it might mean for the future. I drove back to Newark considering the possibilities but decided that I couldn't predict anything right now. It would be next to impossible to figure out what that one day might bring. I decided to just focus on the good feelings that had come with not only seeing her but spending an afternoon in her arms.
Getting to know this Stephanie was interesting, and not always in the best ways. She was like her older self in terms of personality, but less mature. Not that Stephanie Plum would have ever been accused of being an old soul, but the mental age difference between us now was more difficult to tolerate than I'd expected. It hadn't always been easy to handle in my first life. Now I had to stop myself from treating her like an impulsive child. If I'd thought Stephanie was reckless and flighty in her thirties, it was nothing compared to the nineteen-year-old version.
We talked a couple of times a week and would agree that I'd come down on Saturday mornings. We would spend the day together and then I'd go home because her floor currently had a moratorium on overnight visitors. But there had been more than one weekend where she had forgotten I was coming and had made plans with friends. I'd delay my plans, or we moved them to Sunday, but it had been irritating. I reminded myself multiple times that she was half my age mentally. But I knew even the first time I'd been nineteen, I hadn't been so oblivious that I'd make plans with someone and forget. Especially if sex was involved. She also continued to stress me out talking about some of the impulsive choices she made that could have ended up with her getting hurt. I told myself she had done this once before and had been fine, but it didn't stop the anxiety and the urge to lecture her. I didn't have the means to watch out for her now like I would in the future.
My mother had been suspicious of my weekend plans at first. She seemed to think I was back to gang-related activity. But as I told her more about Stephanie, she relaxed and accepted that I was being honest. Then she turned on the pressure to bring Stephanie up to meet them.
I tried to take Stephanie out on dates, but she would often suggest we just stay in her dorm. We would have sex, listen to music, talk, or watch movies. It was fine, albeit a little boring. I was a more active person and lying in bed all day wasn't comfortable for me. But it let me be with her, so I tolerated it.
"What are you doing for Thanksgiving?" Stephanie asked me the Saturday before the holiday. We were laying in her bed listening to a Maroon 5 CD and recovering from an enthusiastic round of sex.
"Dinner with my parents and a couple of my siblings," I said. "My best friend Julio will be staying with us. His younger sisters' high school band is playing in the parade on Thursday, so his family is coming out. He was supposed to stay with a cousin, but he said he'd rather make out with a sewer rat and asked if he could stay with us."
Stephanie laughed. "He sounds funny."
"He is, but I don't tell him that. It'll go to his head. What about you?"
"I'll go home on Wednesday and come back on Sunday. We always have Thanksgiving with my grandparents and my sister and her husband. Then I'm going Black Friday shopping with my best friend, Mary Lou. I'm going to eat my weight in pineapple upside-down cake and pumpkin pie and sleep," she said. "I think that covers it."
"I'll miss seeing you next week," I said, climbing back on top of her. "We'll have to make up for it this weekend."
Stephanie looked like she wanted to say something, but changed her mind.
"What?" I asked.
"What is this?" she asked and pointed between the two of us. "Like what would you say we are?"
I rolled back off her and laid on my side. "I guess it feels like dating. You?"
She bit her bottom lip. "I don't know. It doesn't feel like dating to me because we never really go anywhere. It feels like an all-day booty call."
"What do you want it to be?" I asked, not pointing out the fact that she was the one who never wanted to go anywhere.
Stephanie looked at the ceiling and played with the S necklace she always wore. "I don't know. The sex is amazing, but I don't feel great about myself having sex with someone I'm not in an actual relationship with, you know?"
"That's easily fixed," I told her. "We can go out on dates and be in an actual relationship. I don't think of you as a booty call if that's what you're worried about."
Stephanie shook her head. "I know you don't. You're really nice and I know you like me. I don't worry about that."
"Then what is it?"
She rolled over on her side to face me, giving me an inch or two more space on the small bed. "I don't know if I'm ready for a serious relationship. We're nineteen, we're freshmen. We're supposed to have fun, right? I didn't come to college to find a husband like my sister did."
"I'm not proposing," I assured her. "I don't want to find a wife right now any more than you want to find a husband. But I would like a girlfriend."
She played with the necklace some more, which I had learned was a nervous habit she had when she was younger. She didn't do it in her thirties. "A guy from one of my classes asked me out the other day. I told him I'd go out with him. Just to dinner, you know."
I said nothing for a minute as I absorbed the information. Hadn't she just said she wasn't ready for a relationship but also didn't feel comfortable sleeping with someone outside of a relationship? "Is there something I'm doing wrong?" I asked. "Because I felt like this was going well and that it was becoming a relationship."
Stephanie sat up in bed and leaned against the wall. "You haven't done anything wrong. I just—I don't know. It's weird because we're the same age but you seem so much older than me. I feel you would want things to be really serious between us. It's kind of intimidating."
I mentally groaned. Why couldn't I get this right? "What exactly are you telling me? Are you ending whatever this is?" I asked.
"I'm going on this date tonight and I want to see how things go," she said. "He's also from Trenton so I'll get to see him over break. I'm not saying I want to end things, but I just wanted to tell you I'm going on a date. Not that I don't want a relationship with you, but I don't know if I'm ready for something as serious as you want it to be. I like this guy and I want to see how a date goes. Maybe I could even see both of you for a while to figure things out."
I tried to keep my expression blank while I remembered her protestations in my last life about being involved with two men simultaneously because it brought up all the Catholic guilt. "I want a relationship with you. I like you a lot. I think we could be happy together. But I'm not sharing a girlfriend. I've done that before, and it was miserable. So go out on your date and figure things out. Then let me know."
Stephanie bit on her bottom lip and nodded. "Okay, that's fair. I guess I'll call you when I figure things out."
That conversation killed the mood for the rest of the day, and I ended up leaving half an hour later. Knowing she had a date with some other man that evening wasn't the best aphrodisiac. I told myself not to worry and just wait to see what happened. I wasn't even supposed to be here with her. But that fact hadn't stopped my mind from going down other avenues in the last few weeks.
I had considered whether I should join the Army after all. My father had always hoped one of us would take over his business. Maybe I should do that instead? I could finish my degree, work with my father, and it would be a more normal life that might be attractive to her. Now that I knew she wasn't sure about a future between us, the desire to change my whole life was ripped away. Better to stick to the original plan, I told myself.
Julio's family arrived in Newark at six on Tuesday evening. His mother had dropped him off at my house on their way to Manhattan. The annoyed look on his face told me he had been hanging on by a thread. Given the way his sisters talked a mile a minute when I went out to their minivan, I could understand why.
"Thank you," Julio said when he saw my mother. He hugged her like she had just rescued him from a deserted island. "You saved my life."
My mother patted him on the back. "You're always welcome to stay. My mother surprised us by coming up, so you'll have to share with Carlos. We didn't realize she was coming when we first said you could stay, so I'm sorry you can't have your own room."
I avoided looking in Julio's direction when my mother said this. I knew he wouldn't mind at all. He likely preferred it.
"That's cool," he said, trying to appear nonchalant. "It's still better than my cousin's house."
"Do I hear Julio?" Grandma Isabela asked, appearing in the doorway from the kitchen a second later. "Oh, there he is!"
My grandmother hugged Julio like he was one of her own and went on about how much she missed him and how proud she was of him for being in college.
"She likes you more than me," I commented. "I didn't get any of that when she got here."
Julio flashed his brightest, most charming smile and spread his arms wide. "Well, yeah. Perfection has arrived."
I rolled my eyes, and we followed my mother and grandmother into the kitchen for dinner. My father ambled in behind us a minute later.
"Hello, Julio," my father said, taking a seat on the other side of Julio. "It's nice to see you again. Carlos said your sisters are in the parade on Thursday."
Julio rolled his eyes and took a bite of his meal. "Yes, and my mother has threatened to beat me if I don't show up to watch. I asked why I can't just watch it on t.v. but she yelled so long I just gave up."
"You're learning young. That's a good thing," my father said, patting Julio on the back. "Women are complex, and we have to learn their ways."
"We aren't gorillas, and you definitely aren't Jane Goodall," my mother replied. "But speaking of women, maybe Julio can convince Carlos to bring his new girlfriend up to meet us."
I felt Julio stiffen next to me. I didn't look at him but narrowed my eyes at my mother. "We've talked about this. We've only been dating a few weeks. I don't even know if it's serious yet."
"I didn't even know you were seeing anyone," he said, turning to look at me. "You can't even tell your best friend."
I felt Grandma Isabela watching us, but since my parents and Grandma Rosa didn't comment, I figured they didn't pick up on anything else. I knew he was going to be pissed that I hadn't told him. I had planned to tell him after dinner. I just didn't expect my mother to bring it up before I could.
Conversation at the table revolved around the upcoming holidays, Julio's life back in Chicago and how school was going. We talked about Mariana, Paolo, and baby Olivia, and how the bakery was doing with Mariana working to learn the ropes. I noticed Julio didn't talk directly to me. I was screwed, and not in the good way.
"What the fuck?" Julio demanded once we were in my bedroom half an hour later. "Why I gotta find out from your mom that you got a girlfriend?"
I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck. "I'm sorry. I was going to tell you tonight. I didn't expect her to bring it up over dinner."
Julio paced the floor in front of my bed. "Who is she? How did you meet her?"
"Her name is Stephanie Plum, and I met her in New Brunswick. I had gone down there to check out the campus and we started talking. She showed me around, we hooked up, and I've been going down every weekend to see her," I said. "And I meant what I said to my mother. We aren't sure if it's going to be anything serious."
Julio shook his head while he paced. "Do you want it to be serious with her?"
I hesitated before nodding my head. I wished I could tell him the truth, but that wasn't an option. "I like her.
Julio closed his eyes, and a pained expression crossed his face. "You should have told me."
"I'm sorry," I repeated. "I didn't think it would bother you so much. We talked about this back in June."
He sat down on the edge of my bed and put his head in his hands. "I know," he said. "I just wish you wanted to be serious with me."
Guilt hit me in the gut like a sledgehammer. I didn't know what to say to make him feel better that was also the truth. I sat down next to him and put a hand on his knee. If I could tell him the truth, maybe he would understand. Julio was my best friend, and in love with me. I felt pretty sure I could trust him with my secret. But could he handle it? It's one thing to trust he wouldn't divulge it, but would the information be too overwhelming? It still overwhelmed me, and I'd been living with it for almost a year.
Julio looked down at my hand on his knee. "Does this mean I have to keep my hands to myself while I'm here?" he asked. "Because I'll have to sleep on the couch if it is."
I considered his question. Stephanie had a date with another guy on Saturday and was trying to figure out which of us she wanted, so I wasn't cheating on her if I slept with Julio. I thought back to our lives together before and the years she spent with Morelli where I was on the side whenever she'd have me, and she never asked if I was sleeping with anyone else. Now I had to consider if I wanted to sleep with Julio. My training in compartmentalization took one look at the excitement I felt at the idea of being with him again and slammed the door shut. It wasn't time to explore that.
"We aren't exclusive, so I wouldn't be cheating on her if I'm with you," I told him. "But we need to be quiet. My parents are next door, and I'd like to live to see Christmas."
Julio nodded. "I know we said we could be with girls, but I hate it."
"You haven't been with anyone?" I asked. He shook his head. "I could be your wingman and we could find you someone while you're here," I suggested. That earned me a dirty look.
"You're the last person I want to pick up girls with," he muttered. "Not just because I would rather pick you up, but because all the girls will be obsessed with you, and they'd ignore me."
Julio and I went to bed at a time that wouldn't draw suspicion and waited until we were sure everyone was asleep to lock the door. I put a pillow behind my headboard to keep it from hitting the wall and we turned the radio on low to help cover any sounds.
Now that I'd had a sexual relationship with someone other than him in my new life, I had a metric for comparison. I had worked hard not to think about what my relationship with him meant for my sexuality. I wanted to believe I was straight, but why? Was I just afraid of it because of years of Catholicism and Latino principles that had been beaten into my head? I was almost forty—mentally anyway—and had enough life experience to know that gay and bisexual men were no less masculine or competent than straight men. I'd served with several and never once had I doubted them based on their sexual orientation. Why was I afraid of what it meant for me? Clearly I liked women given my current relationship with Stephanie. And while I'd never found myself attracted to other men, I couldn't ignore my attraction to this man. Was that enough to qualify me as bisexual? Did it matter? Was a label required?
Julio and I spent Wednesday walking around the neighborhood. I showed him what my life had looked like growing up. I showed him the neighborhoods where I used to get my ass kicked on the way home from school, the one where I stole a car as part of my gang initiation process, and then the neighborhood two blocks later where I got caught with the stolen car. Julio made fun of me for getting caught, trying to convince me that even at fourteen he would have been a better car thief. We debated our respective skills as badasses until we stopped at a convenience store so Julio could buy cigarettes.
"You know that shit will kill you, right?" I commented as he lit up on the sidewalk. He closed his eyes and savored the first pull. He gave me the finger and took another drag.
"So will a lot of things. I figure you gotta live your life, you know?" he said. He offered me the cigarette. I groaned, not wanting to get hooked on cigarettes again. After remembering that feeling of the first hit of nicotine, I caved and took it, taking a long drag before blowing it out and giving the cigarette back to him.
"I can't get into that again," I said. "It was too hard to quit the first time."
Julio gave me a confused look as we walked towards my house. "When did you ever quit smoking?"
Damn, I slipped up. I tried to think quickly back to high school and when I had smoked the most, which was in our sophomore year. I tried to remember if I had smoked at all junior and senior years. If I had, it wasn't enough to be memorable.
"It was junior year," I said. "I felt like shit when I couldn't get any cigarettes. I quit smoking so much so I didn't have to deal with the withdrawal."
Julio seemed to buy that answer. "Yeah, I won't let myself get addicted."
I refrained from rolling my eyes. "I'm still thinking about joining the Army, and I need to be in good shape for it. Having a pack a day habit wouldn't help."
"We should have one tonight after we fuck," he said, taking another drag. His voice echoed slightly off the concrete sidewalk and brick building. I looked around to make sure no one was close by.
"Lower your fucking voice," I growled. "Besides, my mother has a nose like a bloodhound. She would smell the smoke and come in to find out what was going on."
"We'll open the window," he suggested.
"She'd still smell it."
A crooked, lascivious smile crossed Julio's face. "I guess I need to fuck you outside," he whispered. "Then we don't have to worry about her smelling smoke. Or anything else."
I snorted. "It's thirty degrees out, dumbass. My pants are staying on."
Julio made a disgusted noise and threw his cigarette butt on the ground. "Why you always gotta be so serious?" he asked, grinding the butt with his shoe. "You always find all the shit that can go wrong. What about just living a little?"
"I live a little," I said and lowered my voice to a whisper. "What do you think last night was?"
We made it back to my parents' house for lunch and listened to my mother and grandmothers complete plans for dinner the next day. Julio was going into the city early to meet up with his mother and the one sister that wasn't in the parade. He would have dinner in the city with his family and come back to our house later that night. My two unmarried sisters and my brother were coming over for lunch. My oldest two sisters would be over later in the day with their husbands and children. My five nieces were all three and under, so an evening of screaming children was a guarantee. I would be responsible for one girl for the duration of the evening because that was the entire point of visiting family when you had small children. At least that was my sister Sofia's philosophy.
"Don't make me go there alone," Julio begged that night after we'd gone into my room. "Come with me."
"I'd rather eat glass," I said. "The parade is a nightmare."
"I'll be real good to you," he whispered in my ear.
"I thought that was already the plan."
Julio smiled and quietly turned the lock on my bedroom door. "I'll be even nicer," he whispered. He worked at my jeans and dragged them down my legs, kneeling in front of me as he did.
My parents and grandmothers were up and walking around in the hallway, passing my door several times while Julio was on his knees. It took all the willpower I possessed to refrain from anything more than a soft grunt as I came. Julio looked up at me grinning like a devil.
"You son of a bitch," I whispered.
Julio stood up and pulled my jeans up with him. "I'm desperate."
"I'm still not going no matter how many times you blow me," I told him.
He shrugged. "It was worth a shot."
I woke up in the middle of the night but couldn't figure out why. I glanced at the clock next to my bed and saw it was three in the morning. After twenty minutes of trying to go back to sleep, I decided to go outside for a while so I could smoke a cigarette that I'd stolen from Julio's pack when he wasn't looking. When I got down to the living room, my heart stuttered when I saw the front door standing open. I looked around and listened for any unusual sounds, but neither saw nor heard anything ominous. I walked over to the door and looked outside. Grandma Isabela was sitting in a chair on the porch.
"You scared me," I told her, stepping outside onto the porch, pulling the door closed behind me. It was cold and Grandma had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. "I thought someone broke in."
"I'm sorry. I didn't think anyone else would be awake."
"It's fine. I couldn't sleep," I said as I took the seat next to her. We sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes listening to occasional city noises in the distance.
"How did Julio take the news about Stephanie?" Grandma asked.
"He was mad that I didn't tell him myself. I was planning to, but Mom beat me to it," I said. "I think he's okay now."
Grandma nodded. "Was Stephanie part of your previous life?"
"Yes, but we didn't meet until we were thirty. I hope meeting her now doesn't screw everything up. I wasn't planning to do it. I just wanted to see her. But then I started talking to her, and that was it."
"I changed everything about my life," Grandma said. "I haven't had to worry about if I changed something too much because that was the whole point."
"What happened? What was your previous life like?" I asked. I felt guilty that I hadn't called her to talk about this.
Grandma looked out over the porch and seemed lost in thought for a moment. "I had a nice childhood, even though Cuba was going through difficult times. My parents were good Catholics, hard workers, strict, but they loved us. When I was fifteen, a single man moved in next door to us. Pedro. He was twenty-eight and very charming. My parents liked him a lot. Six months after he moved in, I was home alone, and he came over to ask if my father had a certain tool he needed. I told him that my father would be home in a few hours, and I could ask him then. Pedro asked if he could have a tour of our house. It wasn't big, but I walked him through it. When we got to the room I shared with my sisters, he shut the door behind us and—," she stopped, her voice cracking slightly. I closed my eyes and felt like vomiting. She didn't have to finish the sentence for me to know what happened next.
"I was five months pregnant before I realized it," she said. "My mother noticed and asked me. I tried to tell her he had forced me, but she didn't care. I had to marry him because I was pregnant. So that was what happened. I was forced to marry the man who raped me and gave birth to our child four months later. He promised to take care of us, but then before the baby was born, he moved us away. He said he had a new job and we had to move closer to it. Once we were away from my parents, he started abusing me. I wasn't allowed to have money. I wasn't allowed to talk to anyone if he wasn't around. He beat me and called me names. But he would only beat me where my clothes would cover. And he controlled me most of all by keeping me constantly pregnant."
The tormented look on her face was too much to take. "Grandma, you don't have to tell me."
"I want to. I've only ever told one other person," she said and seemed to regain some composure. "In the fourteen years we were married, I was pregnant twelve times. I lost two of the pregnancies because he beat me so badly, and I lost the last one because I was pregnant when I died. He wouldn't allow me to nurse my babies for more than a couple of months because he knew it would keep me from getting pregnant. I could barely recover from one baby when I was pregnant with another. I had my first three children in less than three years. The woman who helped me deliver my babies told Pedro that I needed more time to recover or there was a risk to the baby and me. He gave me six months after that before he got me pregnant again. This was how it went the entire marriage. I was trapped. I tried to leave him twice, both times while I was pregnant. He caught up to me and that's how I lost both pregnancies. The day he killed me, I had hit him back after he slapped one of our children. He dragged me to our bedroom and beat me to death."
I felt nauseous. I would have never believed the woman in front of me could be anything but the fiercely independent, strong-willed woman that she still was today. If my grandfather had hit her, no one would have found his body. She would have reported him missing and helped search for him while using his corpse to fertilize her flower bed.
"It took a long time for me to die," she said, her voice distant. "When I woke up, I was in the train station in my hometown. There was a basket in front of me with a baby in it. I couldn't see its face, but I could see a little arm sticking out of a blanket. It had a birthmark on the wrist. That's when my best friend Freida appeared. She had died young and told me about how sometimes people who die young can go back. She said she was offered the chance but didn't take it. She told me I had the same choice to make, and I immediately told her I wanted to take it. I needed to do things differently. Before I boarded the train, I asked her about my baby. She said the baby in the basket was mine, and that she would come back to me one day. I would know her by the birthmark. I boarded the train and when I woke up, it was three days before my mother learned I was pregnant."
I raised my eyebrows. "You were pregnant with your first child when you came back? Does that mean Aunt Maria—," I trailed off, stunned by this information.
"She doesn't know, and I don't want her to know. I never want her to think badly about being born," she said. "It was never her fault, and your grandfather loved her just as much as our other children."
"Grandma, you need to tell her," I said. "In a few years, DNA tests become popular. People take them and then the information is uploaded to genealogy websites so they can learn where their ancestors came from and find other relatives who have also taken those tests. What if she does that and finds things that don't make sense? Especially if you aren't here for her to ask?"
I saw a flash of panic cross her face. "Does she do that?"
I shrugged. "I don't know."
Grandma sighed and closed her eyes. "I'll think about it. Anyway, back to my story. When I woke up that day, I realized what was going to happen. I packed a bag and ran away without a look back. I knew what my mother would do if she found out, so I couldn't risk staying behind and hoping that something different would happen. I stowed away on a train to Havana and when I got there, I started looking for a place to live. After asking around a few places, I was told about this hotel where foreign visitors stayed. They hired women in the laundry room and provided rooms for us to live in. I was barely sixteen but told them I was eighteen. I told them my husband had just died and I needed to work so I could take care of my baby. They didn't like the idea of hiring a pregnant woman, but I convinced them I would work hard and wouldn't take off more than a few days after I gave birth. They asked me what I would do with my baby while I was working. I told them I'd have her nearby and take care of her when she needed it while I worked. I was determined. I needed this job. They took a chance on me, and I'm so thankful they did."
"That's where you met Grandpa," I said, recalling the stories I'd been told about how my grandparents met. "He worked as a dishwasher in the restaurant."
She smiled and nodded. "Yes, and he was taken with me from the moment we met. I was terrified of him and didn't want him anywhere near me, but he was patient and talked to me. He asked me about what happened to my husband, and I made up a story about him falling off a ladder. Your grandfather wasn't an idiot and knew I was lying. He thought some man had just refused to take responsibility. I didn't tell him anything. I wasn't sure I could trust him. About a week before Maria was born, he told me he loved me and wanted to marry me. I could give my baby his name and no one would ever have to know once we left the hotel. I told him I didn't need him to take care of me. When I went into labor with Maria, I was in agony. It lasted twenty hours. He had been working when it started and came to my room as soon as his shift was over. He sat up with me all night."
She got emotional again and took a moment to compose herself. "He held my hand and kept telling me how strong I was while I gave birth. He wasn't bothered by any of it. Later, he was holding Maria, and he looked so proud, like she was his. He asked me if he could be her father, even if I didn't want to marry him. He said he knew I didn't need anyone to take care of me, but he would make sure we had everything we needed anyway. I was in love with him even though I didn't want to admit it. I told him I could accept those things if we were married, but that before he agreed to any of it, I had to tell him the truth. I told him everything about Pedro and dying and coming back. I was afraid he wouldn't believe me, but he did. It all amazed him, and he wanted to go pound Pedro into the dirt. It didn't scare him. He just wanted us to be a family. We got married, and then you know the rest."
I blew out a sigh and reached for the cigarette in my pocket. I pulled out a lighter and lit it.
"Sorry. I came out here to smoke this, and I really need it now after hearing that," I said. "I'm sorry that happened, but it explains a lot about you."
She gestured for me to give her the cigarette and I was so stunned that I didn't hesitate to hand it to her. She took a long drag, let out a small sigh, and handed it back. "I let myself do that once every five years. Thank you."
I chuckled and shook my head. "You'll never stop surprising me."
"Good. I'd hate to be boring," she said with a smile. "Tell me about your life."
I sat back in the chair and took another drag. "After high school, I did two years at Rutgers, but dropped out to join the Army. I went into Special Forces and became a Ranger. I was in the Army eight years. A little over a year after I joined, I had just gotten through my training to become a Ranger and was on leave in Miami. Another guy I'd been in training with was also there and he invited me to a party. He introduced me to his sister, Rachel."
I took another drag of my cigarette before elaborating. Even though it was a past life, I was afraid she might smack me. "I got Rachel pregnant that night," I said, glancing in my grandmother's direction. She had a disapproving look on her face. "I felt bad and married her so the baby wouldn't be born out of wedlock and so she could have everything she needed. We got divorced after Julie was born because we weren't compatible at all. She got remarried when Julie was two and asked if her husband could adopt her. I was still in the Army and knew I would come back to New Jersey when I was out, so I agreed. Rachel still let me see her sometimes, so she knew who I was."
"Was that difficult?" she asked. I was reminded of Stephanie asking me the same question so many years ago.
"A little, but Rachel and Ron were excellent parents to her. She was happy. It was the right thing to do."
Grandma reached over and patted my arm. "I'm glad you accepted responsibility. Too many men in your position would have done everything they could to avoid it."
"When I got out of the Army, I worked for Vicente in Miami for a while doing bond enforcement, where I picked up people who didn't show up for court and took them back to jail. I was good at it, and it paid well. I moved up to Trenton and did the same thing while I built a business doing private security. My business was successful. I had branches along the eastern seaboard and even some franchises in other states when I died."
"Carlos!" Grandma said in a surprised voice. "I am amazed at that. I know you're intelligent and hardworking, but that is so impressive. Do you want to do that again?"
I nodded and put out the cigarette. "Yes, I do. I was good at it, and I liked it. I met Stephanie while I was building the business. She was unemployed and desperate for work. I was doing bond enforcement for her cousin, and she needed money so she started doing it too. The office manager called me to show her the ropes. We eventually became friends, and I kept on teaching her how to do the job. I spent the first two years refusing to admit I was in love with her. Once I accepted it, I spent another two years telling her and myself that I couldn't marry her or commit to a relationship because I didn't have it in me. I couldn't be what she needed. All that stuff. I finally accepted that I could do those things, so I had to wait until I thought she was ready. We had finally gotten together to have a real, committed relationship six months before she died. We were supposed to leave the day she died to get married in Vegas. But she was killed in a car accident while working. I found out that she had learned she was pregnant that day. There was the test in her purse to show me."
I felt my throat tighten at the memory. It had been in my old life, and I'd do my best to ensure it didn't come to fruition in this one, but I didn't think I'd ever recover from that experience.
"Oh, Carlos," Grandma said. "I'm so sorry."
"I spent the next six months miserable until I died," I said. "And then I came back."
"I'm so happy you get another chance with her," she said with a smile. "I hope it works out, no matter if it's now or in another decade. I can understand why you wanted to see her, especially after losing her like that. But be careful. The universe has a way of wanting to keep things the same."
We sat in silence for a few minutes, each of us processing the other's story. I was thankful to have someone to talk to about this. She may not relate to a lot because she had changed everything in her life, but she understood the confusion and the loneliness that came with being the one with the knowledge.
"What have you changed so far?" Grandma asked.
"Things with Julio have been different, but that was mostly because I forgot we'd had a fight around Thanksgiving my senior year and we didn't get past it until after Christmas break. I panicked, thought I was doing the right thing by changing the situation, and then almost made it much worse. Thankfully, it turned out okay."
"Were you together the last time?"
How did I tell my grandmother we'd drunkenly screwed our brains out for two years, but never talked about it or acknowledged we were doing it? I doubted Hallmark made a card for that.
"It wasn't as serious last time," I said, hoping that would be a satisfying answer.
"You didn't fall in love," Grandma observed.
"Julio did. Last time and this time. I didn't want to see it last time. I ignored it and at his wedding in 2022 he admitted to me he would be with me if I'd ever give him the chance. That was on my mind when I tried to make things better."
"So you didn't fall in love last time, but this time you did?"
"I didn't fall in love with him last time or this time," I told her.
Grandma raised an eyebrow. "You're not in love with him?"
"No."
Grandma nodded and looked out over the porch. I knew that expression on her face.
"I'm not in love with him," I repeated.
"If you say so," she said sweetly. She stood up and wrapped the blanket around her body. "I think I'm going to bed now."
I followed her inside the house, and we locked up.
"Why don't you believe me?" I asked before we got to the bottom of the stairs.
"I believe you believe you aren't in love with him," Grandma said. "But what you believe to be true and what is true might not be the same thing."
I sighed and watched as she climbed the stairs. Old people were annoying sometimes.