Me, Love, & Secrets

This Is Us

Ten minutes later, we found ourselves in the clearing where we'd met each other six years ago. I can remember the question he asked me when he found me staring up at the fallen treehouse.

"You ever wonder why people even build treehouses?" he'd asked.

"...Not really," I'd said. "Do you?"

"No, I just wanted to see if someone ever did."

Silence.

"Ruby."

"Roberto."

I guess that moment will forever be imprinted into my mind, because Roberto started talking about it. His hands were pointing in every direction. I just ignored him and began looking around like there was something more interesting than his talking. I happened upon the giant Beech tree that held the rotting treehouse, which wasn't rotting anymore.

Roberto saddled up beside me. "I thought it needed a little...remodeling. Tante thought it was a great idea. Your tante and oncle were kind enough to convince Melinda to let this happen. It took a little over six months to finish it, but here it is."

"...It looks like a mini apartment," I muttered. "What made you think this was a good idea?"

"Would you had rather come back to planches pourries? I think not. I couldn't stand looking at it when you didn't come back two years ago." Roberto chuckled. "J'avais besoin d'un endroit pour appeler le mien. Until you came back, of course."

He was...very considerate. I guess maybe hanging with him isn't such a bad idea. I could use a home away from home for a while. With everything happening back in the States, it's nice to have another place to think. To keep to myself. Melinda and Renee would assume I'm only here to mess around with Roberto. I doubt that'll be true in a million years.

We managed to get inside without any major injuries. I was beyond awed when he told me there was electricity. There was no way I was going to let this treehouse waste away now. Imagine just being here all the time. It's like my room. Except more private. Roberto offered to make us something to drink before we did anything else.

"You know, you never told me about your family," he said randomly. "You promised you would. I told you about mine."

"Maybe I never intended to tell you about them," I mumbled.

"That would make you a liar and you never lie."

I've lied too much to him to say that I'm not a liar. There really must be something wrong with him besides that disorder.

"Fine." I sighed and tried to get into a comfortable position on the giant beanbag. "First of all, my father and I are the only real Americans in my family. My grandfather is French and my grandmother is Mexican, so I get a little of all three cultures. They married here, where my mom, uncle, and twin aunts were born."

"I didn't know you had twin aunts."

"Me either. Not until they showed up unannounced to one of my birthday parties. Anyway, my grandfather owned a hospital, which he gave to my uncle and his family when he decided he wanted to move to the United States. My aunts, as I have heard, wanted nothing to do with going to America, so they headed to Mexico. Weird, right?"

"No, not really."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, well, that left my mother. She wasn't keen on being the forgotten youngest child, so she took her chances. She moved with my grandparents to America and the rest is history. My mom met my dad when she was sixteen. She got pregnant and they were forced to marry. I didn't ask to be here, but it's whatever. You know you never told me about why you live with your aunt."

Roberto chuckled and handed me my drink.

"What's this?" I asked.

"A Summer Shandy. Basically beer and lemonade. It won't make you kill me if it's not to your liking." He smiled and took a seat. "Why do you want to know why I live with my aunt?"

"Because, it's weird how you never mention your parents. It's always about what your aunt wants."

"My parents are dead. Freak accident on a beach in Italy. My tante, being the only relative who loved her brother half to death, took me in. I never liked the arrangement, due to her husband being a douche."

"I know your tante has another brother. What happened to him?"

Roberto scoffed, taking a sip of his drink. His face turned sour, but I don't think it was from the taste.

"He couldn't care less about me. He's barely with his family. He thought it would be nice to leave everything behind to be some doctor in America. I haven't heard from him in a while, so I wouldn't know what he's been up to."

"So...we can both agree we have family who pretend we don't exist until something bad happens?" I asked with a small smile.

"...I guess we can." Roberto returned the smile, but I noticed something different. There was a gleam in his eyes like he was up to no good. I hope he doesn't think he's got me in the palm of his hand. It's me who's got him doing everything I want him to do.