Eva : Part 5

Choose Me
by Xenia Ruiz

(Page 5 of 6)

Home at last, I kicked off my shoes and absentmindedly browsed through the mail on the sofa, petting King, my sons' rottweiler, as he snuggled his head on my lap. When they were little, I promised my boys, Tony and Eli, that they could have the dog of their choice once we got a house. When they asked for a rottweiler, however, I hesitated, given the bad reputation the breed had in the media and the public's mind. They tried to convince me that we needed a big dog to protect us since we didn't have a man in the house. After talking to a dog breeder who insisted that it was the owners who made the dog, I caved in. The boys took the last part of their grandfather's name, my father, Joaquin, and named the dog King. As everyone predicted, I ended up taking care of King after they left for college. At first, I threatened to give the dog away, but eventually I fell in love with the vicious-looking, yet noble, animal whose bark and appearance were worse than his bite.

I reached over to the phone table and checked the voice mail. I had six calls: Maya called twice and my aunt, Titi, called the other four times, from Puerto Rico. I didn't feel like talking to anyone, not even my sister, who was closer to me than anyone else would ever be. I felt the beginning of a headache, which could mean one of three things: my monthly cycle, a barometric pressure drop, or stress. Since it wasn't that time of the month, and Simone's childish prank, while not stressful, had thrown my good mood out of whack, I attributed it to a storm front that the weatherman had been threatening for days. Sometimes I thought it was denying my "basic human right" that made me so moody. But other times, I knew it wasn't just that; I had been moody since I was a kid.

I fed King and let him out into the backyard. After changing out of my workout clothes and into a top and sarong, I reclined on the sofa, pressing the remote connected to the stereo and TV. On the stereo, I had Yolanda Adams and Táta Vega's CDs from the day before. On the TV, I pressed the mute and closed-captioning buttons because I preferred to read the news rather than listen to the broadcaster's scripted commentary.

The best part about my being single was the peace and solace. There were people who always needed to be with someone - like Simone - and then, there were people like me who longed for oneness. I had never been alone, going from my father's house, to my aunt's house, then straight into an early marriage and premature motherhood. After my divorce, I raised Tony and Eli, who were, at last, both away at college. The things I enjoyed doing in my spare time - reading, listening to music, and writing essays and articles - were all things that didn't require another person. I was only just beginning to enjoy being alone.

I glanced periodically at the TV screen with a combination of disbelief and dismay. The images of the latest murders, political corruption, and terrorism had become all too familiar so that the reporters' straight-faced presence seemed trivial. By the time the newscast closed with the feel-good story about a toddler calling 9-1-1 and saving her mother's life, it was too little, too late.

The phone rang, but I didn't move to answer it right away. After spending the majority of my day on the phone at work, it was the last thing I wanted to do at home. I debated whether to let the voice mail pick up, but I knew if it was my sister or aunt, they would think something was wrong. Ever since my children left home, they constantly checked up on me, worried that I was at the mercy of the psychos who roamed the streets of Chicago. I reached over to the phone table, just out of reach, and ended up on the floor with a thud.

"What?!" I answered, irritated.

"What's wrong with you?" Maya asked.

"Nothing. I fell reaching for the phone," I said, getting up.

"Dummy. Listen, you're still going to Simone's party, right?"

I sighed. "I don't know. She made me mad today."

"What did she do now?"

"It's not even worth talking about."

Simone had been my best friend first before I introduced her to Maya, who was a year younger than us. Over the years, they became closer because they always had the topic of men in common. Maya had Alex and Simone was never without male companionship. Things changed when Maya started cheating on Alex - although Maya didn't consider it cheating because she had not slept with her "friend" - yet. Simone thought what Maya was doing was her God-given right since Alex had cheated first. I told Maya she should divorce Alex if she didn't want to be married anymore. After all, she had religious grounds and just as she had done when she first got saved, I quoted the scripture she cited to me after my own ex-husband cheated: Matthew 19:9, which justified divorce on the grounds of adultery. Although it refers to a husband divorcing his wife, it applies to husbands also, she had insisted. She and Simone thought I was crazy to suggest that Maya divorce. Who is going to pay the mortgage and car notes? Simone asked. Who is going to raise our two sons, Marcos and Lucas? Maya demanded. Maya thought divorce was the easy way out for husbands; Simone believed staying married while doing your own thing was the best revenge. What Maya objected to was Simone's insinuations that her relationships with her two lovers were similar to Maya's relationship with the two men in her life.

"L's coming," Maya whispered. Maya referred to Luciano, her friend, as "L" or in feminine pronouns just in case Alex was within listening range.

"Do you really think that's smart?"

"She said she's tired of meeting in dark places."

Copyright © 2005 by Xenia Ruiz

About the Author

A graduate of Northwestern University, Xenia Ruiz received First Prize in the university's Iota Sigma Epsilon Fiction Contest for her short story, "Pops." She currently lives in Chicago with her son and daughter.