Carmen
Four months later
September
"Ma," I call out as I open the front door and close it behind me.
"Hola mi niña como te fue clase?" she asks as she comes out from the kitchen.
I smile and go to hug her. "It was good. Professor Ruth is one scary woman that's for sure."
Ma pulls away from me and kisses my cheek with a smile. "Well I'm glad your day went well. Got any new books from their book store?"
I open my pink purse and pull out two vintage covers of Jane Eyre and Persuasion.
Harvard has the cutest book store ever.
Her eyes widen and she grabs them from me. "Oh how pretty."
I grin and nod. "I know right. The gold outline is so gorgeous."
"Definitely." She hands them back to me. "Stay here, I have to give you something."
My eyebrows pinch, confused, as she walks back to kitchen and leaves me standing in the foyer.
When she comes back I look down to the book in her hands and my eyes widen.
Huh?
Hesitantly, I point to it. "Isn't that..."
She nods with a sad smile as she pushes it into my hands. "I went to visit him earlier and he said he wanted you to have it back."
My finger tips gently graze over the blue cover and I feel that familiar heavy emotion choking me.
It feels like he's been gone for years despite it only being six months.
I try to visit him as much as I can, but with the semester starting it's been a bit harder because I always have something to study for or an assignment to do or something for the debate club to work on.
We do send letters back and forth all the time though, especially when I can't go to visit.
I haven't seen him in almost three, at least in person. We've been able to talk virtually though. Which is better than nothing.
Just thinking about him in there will always make me sad. Him having to spend his birthday in there last month. Me and his sister sending him pictures from Mariana's third birthday party that he missed. Him missing graduation.
The thought alone gets me choked up.
"Thank you," I tell ma as I wrap an arm around her and pull her to me for a hug.
She hums. "I'll be making dinner if you need me."
Once I'm in my room I immediately drop my bag and sit on the edge of my bed as I look down to the journal in my hands.
Tensely, I crack it open and watch all the pages glide past my fingers. Each one is fully written in with black pen.
I pause as I stare at it in my hands.
He gave me this.
He trusted me to have this.
With my heart beat in my ears, I go to the first page. A little note slips out and falls onto my lap.
My jittery fingers unfold it and my eyes train on the slightly smeared black ink.
Hi Carmen,
I finished the journal, every goddamn page is filled up and I ran out of fucking room. I know you told me that you gave me this for me to keep and for my eyes only, but I want you to have it. Everything I've always been too scared to say is in here, shit that I've been trying to move on from. Whether you wanna read it is up to you. But I want you to have it. See every stained part of me, I trust you with them all. I love you.
Love, Romero
It feels like the air has been knocked out of my chest as I sit still on the edge of my bed.
"Oh my," I mutter to myself.
The first entry is dated back to Christmas of last year when I got it for him.
Sliding down to the side of my bed, the journal sits propped up on my knees.
And I open the door he's given me the key for.
~
The sound of heels tapping against hardwood floors stir me awake.
"Carmen, honey, do you want to come with your father and I to brunch or-" I open my eyes and see my mother's patin black heels stop short in my peripheral vision.
"Ma?" I ask groggily as I move away from the pillow I was cuddling.
The next second her worried face is an inch away from mine. "Carmen what happened? Why are you" She looks me up and down. "...laying on the floor? And why are you still in your clothes from yesterday." Her hand smoothes some fallen hair off my forehead. Her thumb wipes under my eye. "Carmen you look like a raccoon with all this mascara. Did you cry yourself to sleep or something?"
Still feeling half asleep and out of sorts, I look around and take in my surroundings. Used tissues are scattered around me along with an empty tissue box. The journal sits closed and right next to my hip. I'm still wearing my clothes from yesterday.
Oh. Sitting up, I snap out of my sleepy haze and scramble upwards.
"Sorry," I start as I lean down to pick up the journal and collect the used tissues.
Ma's hand reaches out to stop me. "Espérate espérate."
I sigh and lean against the side of my bed, feeling dejected once again as I remember.
"Why did you cry yourself to sleep?" she asks with concern.
I look to the journal. "I read the whole thing last night."
Her eyebrows pinch as she looks at me.
A look of subtle realization pulls over her face and her eyes soften.
"Oh muchachita." Lifting her hand, she rubs my my back.
His mother never truly gave a crap about him. He's felt guilty for going against her in court and not helping her. He caught her buying drugs. He grew up with obvious depression and anxiety. First time he ever cut himself he was eleven. He's been dealing with shitty people and bullies his whole life. He lived for three years in Brazil with his dad. His goddamn dad sucks too and never gave a true shit about him either; leaving him and Karine to take care of themselves. His grandmother became his guardian. He started selling drugs when he was thirteen. He was sexually assaulted at thirteen. All he's felt for the past few years has been shame, desolate, and worthlessness.
A small cry leaves my lips as everything I read hits me all over again.
Ma pulls me into her as she kneels on the floor next to me.
"Ma I want him home so bad," I croak out as I keep my arms wrapped tightly around her waist.
Her lips press against the side of my head. "I know. I know. Soon my love, soon."
She sends me off to my bathroom to go shower and clean myself up.
After turning on the shower, I shred off my clothes that I accidentally fell asleep in, and with growing goosebumps I step into the warm running water.
Closing my eyes, I sigh and try to unclench my muscles as the water runs over my face and down my body.
The sun trickles through the window, casting an array of yellow across the wall and I try to soak it into my skin.
These past few months I've been doing pretty good; keeping busy and focusing on the future while also the moment.
It's just certain moments where I'll get these rushes of loneliness from the lack of his presence and the idea that I can't just go call him whenever I want.
There are moments where for a split second I'll think 'oh I need to call Romero to tell him' and then remember I can't.
On graduation day, I was happy, but at the same time I cried. Zara thinks I cried because I'll miss high school. But in reality, I was shedding tears at the fact that I couldn't see Romero in his cap and gown and tell him how proud I am. Or during Mariana's third birthday party over the summer, and Mariana said that for her birthday wish she wanted him back home. I had excused myself to go cry in the bathroom after she said that.
On his birthday, last month, I went to visit him, and I ended up just trying to hold back my tears with him consoling me for the half hour.
Two more months.
Just two more months.
I've been doing pretty good. Except after reading everything he wrote in that journal, the need to be close to him has officially flooded the gates.
No one deserves that.
There's something gut wrenching though about knowing that the person you love has been hurt and has been in situations that you can't even imagine.
And it makes me livid.
How could you as his mother, his fucking mother, care more about finding your goddamn boyfriend than coming home to your fucking kids?
How do you as his father just not care?
How do you as a grown man pay a grown woman to have sex with a thirteen year old boy?
And how does a grown woman willing do that with some scared thirteen year old and tell him to 'stop asking questions' for some measly fifty fucking dollars?
It's like I can feel the bile rising in my throat.
Imagine you Carmen, thirteen year old girl, just recently retiring your Barbie dolls, underdeveloped and innocent, not even fully knowing what sex consisted of, feeling like you had no other choice but to sit there and let a grown man fuck you.
Losing your virginity to a prostitute, a grown woman who was paid to do this with you, at the ripe age of thirteen, that messes with someone. That messes with their head. With how you view sex and intimacy. And then him feeling like he had to do it to impress a grown man so he can make some cash for his family?
I let out a sob. God fucking dammit.
In his journal entry he said the therapist says that he probably doesn't feel comfortable enough to have sex because of it and because of the negative emotions he's associated with it. From the shameful-feeling first time when he was thirteen, to the second time he did it with that girl Larissa and the grossed out look on her face from seeing his thighs. And the future few times where he'd get with a girl either for a little cash or to steal her shit.
If every sexual experience you've ever had has left you feeling like you need to scrub your skin raw in the shower, you're not going to associate sex as something liberating and positive to do with a loving partner.
He always told me he never wanted to go farther than just touching and oral, and I never questioned it, because I didn't feel comfortable going farther either. But to now know the actual reason he didn't want to makes me want to scream. To scream at the goddamn world for making him feel worthless and like a wound that can't be healed.
Everyday since the court trial against his mother I've thanked whatever soars up above late into the night for Karine. She protects her siblings. She protected Romero. And for that I'm forever grateful for her and the young kids in the world who know to keep the younger ones close. Who know to block their bedroom doors at night. Who hide those cheap yellow plastic bats under their bed and who hope the monsters that live there are holding those bats tight for them, just in case the real monsters come out.
He wrote in his journal how he hasn't had intercourse since he was sixteen.
He wrote that last time he had it was because some girl offered him two hundred bucks. And because they were in a tight spot at the time, he did it. Afterwords he has a panic attack in his car. He said he felt like he wanted to die, like some worthless piece of shit.
For a long time he had already been struggling, but specifically after that day when he was thirteen he would start getting panic attacks. He'd lay in bed all day. He'd make the water just a little bit hotter in the shower.
And the idea of him, this person who I will spend the rest of my life subconsciously looking for in each room I enter, thinking of himself as worthless just...it makes me want to kill anything that's ever made him feel that way.
"Oh Romero," I murmur as I rub my eyes.
I can't go back and change the way life has treated him despite how badly I want to, but I know what I can do is be there next to him for the rest of it.
Holding his hand.
Across that bridge.
~
Ma, pa, and I sit next to each other as we both wait in the large waiting room.
I run the pad of my thumb across my short pink acrylic nails and the little glued on bows on each ring finger.
Everyday I thank god my mom's his lawyer, so getting an in person visit isn't too difficult.
In true Carmen fashion I should've dressed up a little more than I have right now for him, but I was too eager to get here to see him. So instead of looking cute I'm wearing slightly flare grey leggings that make my butt look quite good, short brown ugg boots, a worn in shirt of his that I stole from his room, my hair down, and no makeup on.
"He's gonna be so excited to you," Pa tells me as he pulls me into his side and kisses my head.
I wrap my arms around his waist and hug him back immediately. "I'm nervous," I admit.
"Why?"
"Because I haven't seen him in almost a month, it's just been a little long. I'm excited but also a little nervous."
Pa chuckles and rubs my shoulder. "Va a estar bien."
When the door opens, I think my mouth practically drops open.
His hair. It's gone.
He has a buzz cut.
And it looks...really...wow. Huh. Wow.
And his arms and shoulders are...wow. Huh. Wow.
When his eyes meet mine, he smiles that all familiar lopsided smile. A light look in his eye.
I think my eyes are watering.
One second he's across the room and the next I'm standing and we're hugging and I'm holding onto him for dear life.
And I'm crying.
Except right now, it's happy tears. Because I've never been more happy to see a person in my life.
"Hi baby," he murmurs against my ear as his arms wrap around me keep me pressed up against his chest.
I just let out a small cry in a response.
He pulls away and smiles down at me with watery eyes. He pushes some hair behind my ears. "Where's your pink bow at?"
I still can't speak, I just keep crying and latch onto him again.
His chest feels bigger, and his arms stronger.
And he looks and feels so different. More manly and less like the boy who I fell in love with. And it's making me so happy to look at his face, with this fresh smile across it and this certain...presence on his features.
Like rays of sunlight are escaping through each pore. And I just want to lay out and feel it's warmth.
"Okay let me hug him," Pa says as he wraps an arm around Romero and hugs him despite me still being there, I now being trapped between them.
Romero chuckles. "How you been sir?"
"Good, but not too good because my daughter has been using shopping as a coping mechanism." I chuckle.
Romero laughs and kisses the top of my head when he and my dad seperate.
"Hola muchachito," ma greets him as she reaches up and gives him a kiss on the cheek, pulling him in for a quick hug. "How have you been?"
He smiles with a calm look. "Hi Ms. Flores. I've been doing pretty good, thanks for asking. Just focusing on the future and trying to get through some shit."
She pats his cheek. "The next day is always easier than the last," she murmurs.
He nods with grateful understanding.
Pa grabs onto her hand. "We'll leave you two to catch up." And with that they leave the visiting room.
We take a seat by the windows and I've somehow managed to stop crying.
We're not allowed to make out, but he leans down and gives me a chaste kiss.
And from that small kiss I close my eyes and try to savor it.
A tear leaks out of his eye despite his smile. "I've missed you so fucking much."
"I need you home," I murmur as I rest my head on his shoulder.
He wraps his arm around my shoulders and kisses my head. "Soon, Carmen. Soon. I promise."
A few seconds later, I continue. "I read your journal."
He clears his throat. "Yeah?"
I nod and lean back to look at him. "I wasn't there to be by your side in the past, but I'm here now. And I know it must've taken a lot to share so much, but I love you for doing it."
He cracks that lopsided shy soft smile and inside it feels like I'm twirling and squealing around my room. "God I fuckin' love you," he murmurs under his breath before smiling against my lips.
When he pulls away, I giggle. "And also..." I begin as I lift my hand and touch his short hair. "What happened here?"
He lifts a hand and runs a hand over the buzz. I try to ignore the way his now bigger bicep flexes as he does so.
My god.
Don't squirm in your seat. You are in a prison Carmen. You can let out your feelings towards these changes later in the dark of your room.
"Fresh start," he claims with a small smirk.
"It looks..." I try to stop the heat rushing to my cheeks and how I feel like a young girl looking at her school crush.
I don't continue my sentence, I just smile widely and nod with a hot-feeling face.
His head tilts back as he laughs. "Glad you like it. You don't have anything to pull at anymore, but don't worry it'll grow back," he continues with a smirk and low voice.
My eyes widen and I smack his bicep with the back of my hand.
I can't think of that while in here more than I already am.
He chuckles and pulls me under his arm and against his chest.
I smile with that shyness he unknowingly makes come over me.
We continue talking. I tell him about the classes I'm taking, my professors, the campus. I tell him about how I babysat his sister last week and she almost went to eat my nail polish but I stopped her before she could. I tell him about how the people are actually quite nice at college. I wasn't expecting it. I also see a lot of girls on the debate team and they're so intelligent and composed and kind. It's fabulous to see.
He tells me about how he still sees the therapist at least once a week to talk. He's read about two hundred books so far. He plays board games with this old Polish guy. And he works out. A lot.
I feel like telling him: I can tell.
"This place still fucking sucks, but, might as well try to do some good for myself before going back to the real world."
I grab his chin and press a quick kiss to his mouth. "I can't wait to have you home."
He grins and pecks my lips. "Can't wait to be holed up in your pink dungeon."
The sound of the door opening makes me turn my head.
Alexander comes out with a bitter look on his face as his eyes meet mine.
I practically jump. Oh my ew.
He goes to his mother sitting in the corner on the other side of the room. When did she get here?
He has a ugly fading bruise on his cheek and stitches above his brow.
"What happened to him-" Romero grabs my chin and directs me to look back at him.
"Shhh don't worry about it," he murmurs.
I can't help but laugh. I'm not going to ask.
The guard in the corner calls Romero's name and lifts up five fingers, signifying that we only have five minutes left together.
The desire to squeal and twirl halts and now I'm just dreading leaving him again.
His hand goes to my hair hanging at my shoulders. "You didn't tell me where your pink is at. You always wear it," he mutters as he twirls a piece around his finger.
I reach into my pocket and pull out the ribbon. "It's here, but I was too nervous and excited that I didn't even remember to tie it on."
He grabs it from me and sits up slightly. "Turn around."
I giggle. "Romero."
He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and nods with a growing smile. "Don't worry baby I'll try not to fuck it up too much."
With probably pink cheeks, I turn to the side and can't wipe the grin off my face as he grabs two pieces of my hair and makes a little tie at the back of my head.
When I turn back around, he smirks and moves some lose hair off my shoulder. "Look how beautiful my woman is."
I practically lunge at him and squeal into his neck.
I couldn't help myself.
He presses kisses to the side of my head and his hand squeezes my hip.
"You're beautiful too." I smile against his neck.
He rubs my back and I pull away to meet his soft expression and half smile that I want to sleep on like one in a painting would do on a crescent moon.
Except before I leave, I did want to tell him one thing.
Sucking in a breath, I look to him a bit more seriously and straighten my posture. "I hope you know that I understand if you don't ever feel comfortable having...you know...penetration sex," I whisper yell. "But it's okay. If you just wanted to hold hands for the rest of our lives I'll be happy with that-"
He leans his head in his hand and starts laughing. I pause on talking.
I just sit there, slightly confused on why he's laughing, but not asking any questions because he's laughing and that's what's important.
With his hand still wrapped around the back of my chair, he leans his face down towards me with an amused but shy smile. "You seriously think I don't want to have sex with you?"
My eyes widen. "Well...you don't really have a positive past when it comes to good sexual experiences, and I don't want you to feel pressured to do things with me, especially after a long time of us not being together like that," I whisper.
His eyes dart between mine and his lips rest slightly ajar, like two pink pillows stacked on top of each other.
"I want you," he murmurs under his breath. "I have a hard on just from seeing your ass in those leggings and you in my shirt. And from you in general."
My heart stops.
I died. I'm dead.
I must be, because there's no way he's real.
And I think I've just ascended from hearing those words.
"Really?" I ask nervously.
He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and nods as he glances down to my lips. "I appreciate your concern baby, and I've never had what sex is supposed to be before, and the idea of it kinda scares me. And I'm not gonna lie, I'm fuckin' nervous at the idea of going that far. But I love you. I'm in love with you. And..." His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he thinks. "And I want to show you that. I want it."
I blink. Then I blink again. "Well..." I suck in a nervous breath and try not to smile and cry happily and kick my feet and jump on him. "I..." I don't even know what to say, so I just nod with a cheesy smile as I stare at my boyfriend who I happen to have a really big crush on.
He chuckles and I lean in and kiss him. "I want you too one day," I whisper shyly.
The guard starts coming over and we stand up.
He smirks down at me with shy rose cheeks. "Hmm," he hums lowly before pulling me in his embrace. As we hug he turns me away so no one can see as he grabs my butt. I chuckle against his chest and his lips press against the top of my head.
And when we pull apart he holds my neck as his lips meet mine.
God I've missed that.
"I love you," he murmurs. When he pulls away, he playfully bites my bottom lip and I smile, trying to ignore my southern regions yelling at him.
"I love you too," I say back.
He presses another quick kiss to my lips. "I'll be back home soon baby."
He looks like a fallen angel in his orange jumpsuit and tall broad frame, tattoos sneaking out his shirt, an attractive buzz cut, and a smirk one usually doesn't have as they get put in handcuffs.
That orange jumpsuit may make him seem like a fallen angel, but I look at the sky above and know the devil's case file is empty.
________________
A/N
They're sooooo Loverrrr.
I Think He Knows, Daylight, Paper Rings, Lover, The Man, The Archer....you name it.