North Beach was a part of San Francisco well-known for it's high rate in Italian character. There were restaurants all over the area, always filled with tourists and locals just looking for something to eat. Many of the dining options involved Italian cuisines, so it wasn't much of a surprise that my family owned one of those restaurants.
Viola's was a small and friendly place, owned by both my father and Uncle Rob after being passed to them when my grandfather passed on and Grandma couldn't take care of the place by herself. Ever since I had first stepped foot inside of the place, it had felt like a second home. I was always there after school, visiting Grandma and Grandpa with a large piece of chocolate pie sat in front of me, instead of walking the distance I had to get home and doing my schoolwork. It always smelled like pasta and spaghetti along with floor cleaner, a mixture you had to get used to, and there was almost always a slight buzz of hyper conversation from the tourists an locals, both young and old. I absolutely adored the family feel.
But, like most thing, that had all changed as I grew older. Especially after I began to work there as way to help out my family. Now, instead of loving the hours spent at the counter, visiting with everyone and dreading going home, it was as though things had been flipped. I would stare at the clock for hours, just willing it to move a thousand times faster, and practically ran out of the door the second I was allowed to leave. All I wanted was to get home and relax, spend time playing video games and blaring music.
On a normal summer break, I received the entire week of band camp off, a perk of being the daughter of one of the owners, but after one of the other waitresses had to be rushed to the hospital, my dad had insisted that I be the one to fill in for her shift. Six until close. The worst five hours to work, because I hated getting home so late. Even if I wasn't going to be getting any sleep, I would have enjoyed some time to lay around before day two of band camp.
Although, I knew I probably would have wound up finding myself at Niko's eventually.
Around eleven-thirty that night, I pulled into my drive, windows down and music playing softly as I hummed along to the familiar tune. Despite how tired I was, I couldn't bring myself to get out and head inside. Every bone and muscle ached. My joints screamed at the slightest of movements. Walking up the steps and to my bedroom was too much of an effort for even me to attempt.
But it wasn't just that I didn't want to move. I didn't want to be cause for anymore rumors to surround me. Or Niko. He didn't deserve to be victim to something so ridiculous. He deserved so much more than he had, and me ruining one of the only relationships he had wasn't going to solve anything. I knew that the moment I gave up on sleep, I would find myself at his house, attempting to pass time. I couldn't continue to do that, especially after finding out about the rumors. If one single person found out, I would hate to know what that would mean for Niko and Michelle.
I sighed, closing my eyes and breathing in the cool air. I could hear the chirping of crickets surrounding me over the sound of my iPod. Every song that played seemed to relate to my mom in some way and it absolutely killed me. I missed her. I missed her so, so much. I mean, what sane person wouldn't miss their mom? Who wouldn't miss someone who was such a constant in their life? The things she put us through, the things she put my dad through, were just wrong. I couldn't forgive her for it. Not now, not ever.
The tears swelling in my eyes were unavoidable. I missed my life before. Even though she was incredibly drugged up on a daily basis, there were always those days when we were happy, when thing were okay with all of us. We acted like a family. We treated each other like a family. Those days were some of the happiest moments of my life. If I could have just one day will all of them again, one happy day, I would gladly take it in an instant.
But I wasn't going to get that so I needed to learn to get over it.
After a few minutes of sitting there, I found myself burying my face in my hands. I couldn't stop thinking about all of it. It was so overwhelming. I just wanted five minutes to relax and forget it all. To forget everything that was stressing me out, and just focus on school and creating a life for myself. I wanted to leave Niko alone before things ended badly for him.
Of course, that thought was interrupted by the sound of glass shattering outside of the window, followed by slight giggling. I swear to God, if these kids hit my car, I was going to snap.
"Erin!" The voice was loud and slightly slurred, coming from somewhere above me. Niko. I automatically know it was him, before even hopping out of the car and directing my attention to where he stood up on the roof. "Erin! Hi!"
Niko's feet were right on the edge of the roof, toes nearly curling into the gutter and hands waving overdramatically as a grin etched itself across his face. Despite the fact that it was below seventy degrees outside, I couldn't help noticing that he was only in a pair of black athletic shorts, bare on every other part of his body. I couldn't imagine how cold he had to be.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I yelled up at him, eyeing his feet as more of his toes hugged at the edge. The image of him falling kept replaying over and over in my mind, seeing him splatter on the ground and his insides flying everywhere as though he were an egg.
"Dancing!" I watched as he attempted to spin, eyes wide in dread. My stomach clenched up as he stumbled and fell back. He was fine, but being up that high, drunker than an alcoholic, was definitely nothing close to safe.
"Don't move. I'll be right up!" I reached for my keys and bag, rushing toward my front door. The door closed behind me and I was already halfway up the steps before my dad's voice floated out of the living room, stopping me in my tracks, much to my dismay.
"Erin, is that you?"
"Yeah, Dad!" I sighed, knowing he wanted to talk. In the meantime, Niko was still outside risking his life with every second.
I walked into the living room to see my dad sitting in his old, signature beige armchair, his feet propped up on the footrest. I took in his familiar features. Dark bags under the eyes of the tall, middle aged man with dark brown hair, nearly black, and blue eyes to match my own. He held the remote in his hands and I watched as he pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up in his nose, muting the TV in the process. On the similar beige couch, my youngest sister, Hayes, was sprawled out, gripping a pillow tightly as she slept, her blonde hair surrounding her face in a mess. If my dad wasn't in there, I would have instantly taken the opportunity to mess with her, but, alas, he was, keeping me from drawing on her little face.
"How was work, kiddo?" I smiled, slightly, at the old pet name. My dad and I had always been close, teasing each other about the stupidest things and making up weird insults for each other at the worst possible moments. He was always joking around, making it impossible for there to be a dull moment.
"Good, how was the game?" I continuously glanced out of the window to assure myself that Niko wasn't lying flat on the ground.
"Shit. It's like they don't know how to hit the damn ball anymore." He sighed in frustration, causing a light laugh to drift from my lips.
"So I'm guessing Saint Louis lost?" He nodded. I smirked. "Sucks to be a Cardinal fan, huh?"
"Better watch it, missy. Don't make me ground you." He joked, pointing his finger at me while feigning a glare. "Can't believe my daughter is a damn Cubs fan."
"Love you, too, Dad." I shook my head as he laughed. He was one of my favorite people out there, which was why what mother had done to him absolutely killed me so much. After he was forced to leave her, he slipped into a state of depression for nearly a year before my Uncle asked him to come out and help run Viola's. Even then, things were still bad. All four of us had to take responsibility around the house and out in the real world, my brother nd I both had to get jobs, him with welding and me with waitressing. Iris would soon be getting on as well, just to help out with the smaller things.
"You know I do too." He smiled at me. "So how was band? Any funny stories yet?"
"Not yet, but I'll be sure to notify you when there are." I shook my head in exasperation. He was always looking for a funny story to share, whether it involved him or a complete stranger from off of the street.
"Any new kids?"
"Yeah. An exchange student from Australia. He came to lunch with Niko, Rosie and me. And, you know how she is when it comes to accents. She was all over him in a split second." This earned a laugh. Everyone knew how Rosie could be, especially my dad, who had seen it first hand hundreds of times.
"As long as there are none you're all over, then we'll be fine. You're not allowed to date until-."
"Until I'm thirty0five. Yeah, yeah, I know." I cute him off, rolling my eyes. He was so stingy about me even having a crush on a guy, but he'll let my brother stay the night at his girlfriends house. It was something that shouldn't have bothered me but it did. It was almost embarrassing that I was one of the only girls who had never truly been in a relationship before.
"I've taught you well." He smiled, glancing back at the TV. My eyes flicked outside, just in time to see something else fall from the roof. "Well, you must be tired. Go head upstairs. Goodnight, hon."
"Goodnight, Dad." I slowly walked away from the room, but once I was out of his sight, I was running, praying that Niko was fine and not hanging onto the side of the roof by his fingertips. I tossed everything on my bed, barely stopping, and threw the window wide open, letting the cool air brush against my face. Niko was still out there, safe and sound, letting his feet dangle over the edge and giggling quietly to himself.
"Niko?" I spoke softly, well aware of the fact that my dad was still awake. He spun around and smiled, watching me slide myself through the window.
"Hi." He spoke quietly as well, bringing himself to his feet. As I approached him, he grabbed my wrists and pulled me into a tight hug, burying his face in my hair. This hug was different than normal. It was nice. It was sweet. I didn't know what to do, other than hug him back. He reeked of vodka, but I didn't mind, a hint of his usual cologne and fabric softener smell still reaching my senses. We were both quiet, standing up on that roof as I waited to see what he would do next. "Erin?"
His breath tickled my skin, blowing my hair slightly. I stifled a giggle. "Yeah?" I spoke softly in response, feeling my own lips ghosting against the skin of his neck.
"Why do you smell like spaghetti?" I couldn't help it. I snorted, laughing out and ruining the moment for the both of us.
"Why do you smell like alcohol?" I took a step back, craning my neck to look up at him.
"Because I'm drunk," he pouted, obviously not liking my redirecting of the subject.
"Because I'm a waitress," I responded back, grinning at his tendency to act like a five year old. As much as I wanted to avoid such a thought, he was an adorable person in his current, drunken state.
"Why are you staring at me?" He continued his pouting fit, crossing his arms over his chest. His rather bare and muscular chest. My eyes lingered for far too long on his abs, only to look and find him studying me as well. My cheeks heated up ever so slightly, and suddenly, I wasn't so cold, the embarrassment managing to warm me up. "C'mon."
Niko grabbed my hand in his own clammy one, pulling me to his bedroom window and practically pushing me through. I stumbled slightly, finding myself sitting on his little window seat as he hopped in next to me, stumbling just enough to need my help at regaining his balance.
"You're a life saver, Erin!" He gaped dramatically, throwing his hands around wildly as he spoke. I didn't understand why this was, but decided to just go along with it, nodding slightly and laying back against all of the pillows.
"I'm serious," he whined, dragging out his words for emphasis.
"I know, I know." I spoke with a motherly tone, feeling as though he was an eight year old who needed coddling.
"Erin, you're one of my best friends. I like when you're around, because I can forget about my stupid parents for five seconds." His constant smile suddenly flipped itself into a frown, his finger resting against his chin. I watched his eyes turn glossy with tears. "There are times that I just hate them so much."
"Why's that?" From what I had always seen while spending time with Kayla, they were a fairly normal and happy family without a lot to stress or worry about. His mom was always home, always around to help him out with everything he could possibly need, and his dad was an architect, always working on new neighborhoods and buildings around the city. He made more than my father to say the least, leaving them all pretty well off.
"They fight. Oh, god, do they fight. It's like an endless nightmare, one that I can't stay awake from for more than ten minutes. It's horrible." He sighed, adjusting himself so he could lay his head down in my lap, curling his legs up to his chest. I didn't know what to do, so I awkwardly rested my hand on his shoulder, staring down at his messy black hair.
"What do they fight about?" I spoke calmly, hoping I could get more out of him. I never would have expected them to be so unhappy. Every time I saw them, they were smiling and treating each other as though it was still the beginning of their relationship.
He let out a low chuckle. "What don't they fight about? They fight about my granddad, they fight about me and Kayla, they fight about money and the mortgage. They fight about my brother." The last sentence caused even more laughter to pour from his lips.
"You have a brother? Since when?"
"Found out about a month ago. He's twenty-three. Names Jude. You'll never guess how that one happened."
"How?" He rolled over so his eyes were looking into my own, soft blue against warm hazel. I had never looked at them close enough to see the flecks of green and gold floating around the pupils. I was stuck, as if in a trance, just waiting for him to answer.
"My dad..." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his face starting to heat up before continuing, eyes remaining shut. "My dad had an intern about six or seven years before I was born and he. . . he cheated on my mom. With her. His twenty-four year old intern. How fucked up is that?"
"I'm sorry." I knew exactly how he felt. Although, when my mom cheated on my dad, I was alive. I was only four years old, but it still had an impact on me, especially when she disappeared for nearly a year. To be with him, instead of me. Instead of her family. "It will be okay, I promise."
He smiled, opening his eyes again and looking into my own. The eye contact, this time, was more. It was like he wanted to tell me something, as though I was supposed to be reading it in his eyes.
"Sus ojos son más bellas que las estrellas del cielo." I shook my head, only able to pick out a handful of the words. "Your eyes are beautiful."
My cheeks instantly heated up, my eyes moving to look around his bedroom instead of at him. It wasn't the first time I had received the same compliment. Everybody seemed to love blue eyes. But, the fact that it was Niko, someone who hardly trusted anyone enough to tell them his honest opinion, made me a little bashful, aware that compliments weren't just thrown around when it came to him.
"Thanks," I mumbled, eyes focusing on one of his many posters.
"Oh, my God!" My eyes flew to him, watching as he jumped up and ran over to his stack of records, pulling one out and setting it in the player. "We have to dance!"
Now, everyone who knew me knew exactly how much I despised the very thought of dancing. Actually doing it with someone who at the moment had even less balance than me was a terrible, terrible idea. And I was about to voice my thoughts on the matter until I heard the song. Until I realized just what song it actually was.
"You have this album on vinyl?" I closed my eyes as Be Still by The Fray began to play softly, the beauty to the song filling my ears. His hand was suddenly grabbing mine, pulling me close to his chest. I opened my eyes, craning my neck enough to see the faint smile on his lips and far away look filling his tear brimmed eyes. He wrapped his arms around my waist. I grinned, despite the actions he was making. I couldn't help it. This song was beautiful, and probably one of my absolute favorites, so I didn't mind actually attempting to dance with him.
I slowly wrapped my arms around his neck, resting my ear against his chest while closing my eyes again, letting myself just listen. I could hear his heart beating, increasingly fast due to just how intoxicated he was. It was sweet, having someone you related with that you could let yourself relax and be yourself around. Someone you could listen to music with and never get bored.
Softly, he started to sing along to the song, the lyrics floating from his mouth with more beauty than I has ever actually heard. In person, that is. His voice was smooth and deep, hitting each note with near perfection. It was something you would never expect from quiet Nikolás Flores, all you ever saw was the loner artistic side of him, sketching away as if the world around him didn't exist.
But I liked it. It was something I had always looked for in my friends, the ability to continuously surprise me. Which might've been why we were becoming so close.
"Tú es muy bonita," he laughed, resting his chin on the top of my head. We were swaying to the beat of the music, slowly. I turned my face into hi bare chest to hide my blush. He spoke his mind a lot more often in this state and I wasn't sure how I felt about it, more embarrassed than I was used to. It was nice, but at the same time, I hated compliments, barely able to ever accept them. "I'm tired."
"Then, go to sleep." I laughed at his slight pout.
"Join me." He smirked, sending a wink down at me. Before I had a chance to voice my response, he was pulling me back and falling onto the bed, causing small shriek to leave my lips. "Please, stay with me tonight?"
My eyes immediately flickered over to the open window, watching the curtains blowing in the wind. My first instinct was to say "No" and peel myself away from him before running. Instead, however, I found myself nodding slowly, letting him pull me under the covers with him. I expected him to let go of me, to roll over and pretend I wasn't there. But the complete opposite occurred; he held on even tighter, making me have to lay my head on him. My legs were much shorter than his, yet in the position we were in, we managed to be the same height. His breathing was slowing, making me wonder if he was actually falling asleep, but then, he spoke again.
"Do you ever think of the future?"
I had to think about his question, before being able to answer truthfully. "In a way, yes. I'm always fearing what the future will mean for me."
"What do you see?" At this point, his eyes were shut, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I see myself like my mother. I fear that I'll end up like her on a daily basis. I fear that I'll end up like her on a daily basis. I fear that someday she'll find me, and it will kill me so badly that I'll decide to let back into my life." I closed my own eyes, voicing my fears for the first time. I had never truly realized how much it ate at me until I actually told someone about it. He was quiet, eyes slowly opening and looking down at me in wonder. "How about you? What do you see?"
He smiled, a sad smile that almost broke my heart. "I see myself to be happy. I see myself with a family, the love of my life sitting there, holding my hand and helping me to raise my kids the way I wish I would have been raised. I see myself working a job that I love in a town that I love even more." His words were well thought, each one coming out slower and slower, as though he was almost out.
"Do you know what you want to do? Where you want to work?"
"Somewhere that involves music or art. Those are the only two things I'm actually good at, and that's only just barely." His voice was barely above a whisper, a faint smile moving his closed mouth upwards. I could tell, just by that small action, that he honestly loved if. He loved the things he was good at, even if he didn't believe he was as talented as he actually was.
"That's great. I know you'll make it." I sat up slightly, my long hair falling in waves over my shoulder as I smiled down at him. "You're one of the most talented people I know. Anyone would be crazy not to see that."
"Thank you. I really appreciate it." He opened his eyes again, staring into mine without flinching or blinking. This was the closest we had ever been and it was weird just how comfortable it made me. "Te amo más de lo que nunca sabrás, Erin."
"What does that mean?" I asked, nearly clueless when it came to Spanish. But before he could translate, his eyes were shut again, his lips parted slightly. Soft snores escaped them, filling the room in an instant, covering the soft music that still played. I sighed, realizing how peaceful he looked for once. Even when he was drunk, he held a stoic expression on his features a majority of the time. But there was a slight tilt to the right corner of his mouth as he slept, as though his dreams were happy, hopeful. Maybe he was happy, too.
That was all I wanted. For Niko to be happy.
I knew that, despite his wishes, I would never be able to stay over. Even though my dad was an understanding person, if he ever found out I was even laying with him, the both of us would wind up in a ditch somewhere. Staying would be one of the stupidest things I could do.
Slowly, I removed his arms from around me, smiling as the peaceful breaths filling the air. A much as I hated the idea of leaving, my legs dragged themselves to the window anyway, I threw it open, but paused, unable to ignore what I was hearing. There was yelling reaching my ears, floating from where I knew his parent's bedroom was. I froze with one leg out of the window, eyes moving back to Niko's sleeping body, watching as the frown returned on his face, as though he could hear them through his dreams.
What if he woke up? I couldn't leave him alone to wake up to the sounds of his parents screaming and fighting, hurt because I wasn't there. Hurt because of what he was having to listen to. I couldn't leave and that was that. I didn't care what my dad thought anymore. He would get over it, because this wasn't me. When my parents were fighting, I would have killed to have someone there to comfort me. Just to keep me from feeling so helpless and scared about the inevitable that was destined to happen. I pulled myself back in, carefully closing the window before returning to the bed and lying down with him.
The fighting continued, bringing back painful memories for me. Things I didn't want to remember. Things that nobody would ever want to remember. That nobody should have to remember. Tears stung in my eyes as I pulled myself on his chest once again. I forced myself to focus on his breathing and the sound of each beat of his heat, using it as an anchor to calm myself down with.
I knew that if I could barely cope with them fighting, then it was probably thousand times worse for him. And I was going to make sure he didn't have to deal with it alone.
He deserved so much more than I could ever give him.