So Many Kinds of Love

Nonplussed, I nodded as Gabriela stared, mouth open as if she couldn't decide whether to laugh or protest. "Yes, ma'am."

Straightening, she winked at me, then gave me a pleasant smile. "I love my daughter very much. I would do anything to protect her."

Hearing the sincerity in her voice, an unexpected tear prickled behind my eye. I blinked, trying to will it away. Taking that in, her face softened. "I'm sorry. Gabby's told me a little bit about your family, and I spoke without thinking. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't. It's just ... hard sometimes. But I'm happy Gabriela has such a strong and loving family."

I looked away as Garcias, Riveras, Gamboas and assorted other relatives bustled around us, carrying plates of food to the tables, laughing together, yelling good-naturedly at the kids underfoot.

"Family means everything to us, Gary," Mrs. Garcia said, and I turned back to her. "I don't know what the future holds, but if you join our family, you'll be as precious to us as any of the other kids." She smiled at her daughter before shifting her gaze back to me. "Promise. Now be a good boy and help Sam with the barbacoa. I swear they switched babies on me at the hospital after he was born."

**

"She threatened to castrate you with a carving knife?" Dr. Harrison asked, incredulous.

"Gabriela told me later that her mom didn't mean it literally, and I realized that when she winked at me afterwards. But I still couldn't believe it. Even Donald Dumbass never said anything like that when we were growing up."

"Well, sure. You don't get a threat like that every day." He sat back in his chair. "You know, Dr. Freud would be so excited right now. He loved nothing more than hearing about a castrating mother."

"Thanks for your concern, doc."

He focused his spotlight stare on me. "It really bothered you."

"Yeah. On a certain level, it did."

"What about it bothered you? Did you feel she meant it literally?"

I shook my head. "Nah. I know she wouldn't. She's really a very nice lady. I liked her and I think she liked me too."

"Then, what?"

Shifting on the couch, I thought about it. "I guess I was reacting to her concern for her daughter. I wished someone felt that way about me and Layla."

"Someone?" he prompted.

"Our mother. I wonder what it would have been like to have a mom like that, who'd do anything for her kids."

"If your mother was here right now, what would you say to her?"

I frowned, looking at the nondescript walls and wishing for a distraction. "She isn't here right now."

"I know. But if she was. What would you say?"

"I'd ask her why she didn't care about us. I'd ask her why she married Donald Dumbass."

He put his notebook on the desk and leaned towards me. "Let's try something different today. Let's have this conversation. Pretend I'm her."

I raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

He nodded. "Seriously."

Feeling foolish, I leaned forward. "OK, mom. Why'd you marry that prick?"

"You kids needed a father. And I needed help paying the bills."

"We could have gotten by."

He shook his head. "No, we couldn't have. The bills from your dad's illness and funeral were too much for me. I didn't have a marketable skill. I needed help."

I took a deep breath. Despite myself, I was getting drawn in. "You could have found a way."

"I tried, but I didn't see any other way out. I couldn't lose you kids to foster care, and that's what would have happened."

"But why him?" The question came up from the sub-basement, and I clenched my fists, sweating.

The doctor looked at me. "He was the only one who offered. And I was drowning -- in debt, and grief, and hopelessness. So I grabbed that lifeline without looking very hard at who was holding the rope."

"Why didn't you leave him once you found out what he really was?"

"I don't know," Dr. Harrison said simply. "Maybe I couldn't face the mistake I had made. Or maybe he beat all the fight out of me. I don't know."

"A real mother would have protected us."

"I took all the beatings for you that I could," my mother replied. "I loved you the best I knew how. I'm sorry it wasn't enough."

Shaking, I buried my face in my hands. "I needed you. And you left me."

"I needed your father, and he left me," my mother said. "I couldn't cope without him."

"A real mother would have found a way."

"I'm only human, Gary. A very flawed human. I wish I could have been what you needed."

"Me, too."

"I hope someday, you'll see me for what I am and find a way to forgive me."

Tears streaming down my cheeks, I blinked, then stared at Dr. Harrison. "I don't know if I can do that."

The doctor gave a slight shrug. "Looks like you're human too, son. Just like the rest of us."

Tucking a warm tissue into my hand, he sat with me as I wept, then tried, and failed, to forgive.

**

Layla outdid herself on Superbowl Sunday, making a buffet that could have fed an ancient Mongolian horde and still had leftovers for them to take home to their wives and kids. The friends I had met that first weekend all came, a couple with boyfriends and one -- that one I had liked best, after Gabriela, of course -- with another woman. She gave me a saucy wink as she introduced her girlfriend, and I couldn't help but smile at her sass.

I found it a lot easier to resist smiling at Michael, who had not grown on me. In fact, I could barely look at his smug, self-satisfied face without wanting to plant my fist in the middle of it.

"You've always been Layla's protector," Dr. Harrison had said when I brought it up. "You're like a father figure, in certain ways. And it's a father's prerogative to hate all of his little girl's boyfriends."

"You mean I want Layla for myself? That can't be right. I'm happy with Gabriela."

"It's more complicated than that," the doctor had said. "Just know that your feelings are normal, and if you do punch him in the face, make sure he provokes you in front of witnesses first. You don't want an aggravated assault charge, no matter how aggravating he is."

Keeping that in mind, I minimized contact with Michael and volunteered as Layla's waiter and sous-chef to keep the party going and give her some time with her friends. After a while, Gabriela joined me in the Easter egg-colored kitchen and we had fun cooking together and feeding each other the occasional treat before taking plates piled with appetizers to the living room.

"You two sure seem to be having a good time together," Layla observed, walking in as a blindfolded Gabriela sat on the counter. She did a double take. "What in the world are you doing?"

"It's the spice game," Gabriela piped up. "We blindfold each other and put a pinch of a spice or herb on that person's tongue. They have to guess what it is."

Hands on her hips, Layla looked from her friend to me and chuckled. "That sounds like fun! What does the winner get?"

"The best kiss in the other person's repertoire," I answered.

"Oh, really? And what does the loser get?"

"The other person's second-best kiss!" Gabriela said brightly. Smiling fondly at her, I patted her knee and she laid her hand atop mine.

Layla stared at us for a moment, her expression unreadable, then sighed.

"Why the long face, sis?"

"Just wanting something I can never have, I guess."

Taking off the blindfold, Gabriela regarded her friend with compassion. "It'll happen for you, chica. Give it time."

"Do you really think so?"

"I do. Remember, your brother and I are older than you and it took us a while to find each other."

Studying my sister's face, I frowned suddenly.

"Are you feeling OK? You look awfully tired."

She shrugged. "I guess I overdid it with this party. But they're having a good time, so it's worth it, right?"

"I guess." Glancing down, I noticed her jeans looked looser than I remembered. "You'd better eat some of this delicious food, sis. I don't want to be the only one here getting fat."

She rubbed her eyes, looking exhausted. "I tried everything before I sent it out. I'm stuffed."

Stretching, she yawned as a roar sounded from the living room. "Sounds like the Eagles scored! I'd better get back to the others. We're good on food right now, so you can get back to your spice game. All I ask is that you don't go all 'Bull Durham' on my kitchen table. It's not sturdy enough."

Winking at us, she twirled and returned to the living room as Gabriela placed the mask over her eyes once more and stuck out her tongue. "Next!"

Entranced, I reached for the French thyme and put my sister out of my mind.

**

The hospital sent me to a training in Virginia the following week, so Layla and I didn't get together again till the Saturday after Valentine's Day. A few days beforehand, she texted me to bring a nice merlot or pinot noir to go with steaks, and I brought a bottle of each. The odors of garlic, onions and meat made my stomach gurgle as I walked in the back door, but I forgot all about them once I spotted my sister's wan face.

"Layla! Are you all right?"

Striding to her side, I put a concerned arm around her thin shoulder. Sighing, she laid one cheek against my chest.

"Michael broke up with me."

Pulling her into a full hug, I rocked her gently as she sobbed, trying to send comfort and strength from my body to hers. "Oh, honey. I'm so sorry."

We stood like that for several minutes, Layla weeping as I did my best to stay with her in the moment. Taking in a lungful of air, I held it for three beats, then exhaled, over and over, willing myself to stay calm.

When she moved into the gasping and hiccupping stage of crying, I stroked her hair as if she were six again, and kissed her forehead tenderly, just as I remembered Dad kissing me the day I fell off my bike and broke my arm. I walked her to the living room so we could sit on the couch, then held her through those last ragged sobs that echoed off the high paneled walls. A single lamp struggled to light the space, but now wasn't the time to go flipping switches and fussing with the other lamps.

"We slept together on Valentine's Day," she finally said, her voice quavering. "God, was it really just two days ago?"

My arm tightened around her, but I said nothing, letting her tell me in her own time and space.

"It was our first time. I wanted it to be perfect. I cooked all his favorite things. I bought some sexy underwear, and downloaded some new music I thought we would both love. I was so excited to be doing this at last."

"You hadn't been with anyone before?"

Snuffling, she shook her head. "No one ever wanted me before." Her voice trembled again and my heart broke a little bit more. I wanted to tell her not to be silly, that she was the most lovable woman I knew, but this wasn't the time.

"So he came over and we had dinner, and then we danced and made out in the living room, and then I invited him upstairs."

She took a deep breath, and I could tell she was getting to the hard part, the unbearable part. Again, I waited, hoping not to hear what I feared she would tell me.

"We kissed some more, and then he unzipped his pants and ... and ... took it out. It looked huge to me, way too big to fit inside me, and I wasn't sure, but he said not to be stupid, that I'd love it. But I didn't. It hurt."

As she told the rest of the story, the hand in my lap curled into a fist and I had to force myself not to go pound him into hamburger at that very moment.

"When it was over, he told me I was a terrible lay, I didn't have any idea how to fuck, and he never wanted to see me again. Then he laughed and said his buddy owed him fifty bucks and he left."

Heart thudding, rage coursed through me as I considered possible punishments for the bastard who had hurt my sister. Michael, I thought grimly, when the time is right, and I find you, your ass is mine.

"I took a shower afterwards, but it didn't help," she continued. "Nothing helps. I can't stop crying. I even had to take yesterday off from work -- I was afraid I'd run into him and embarrass myself crying again. I feel so stupid and ashamed. I thought he cared about me."

Hugging her to me, I felt her slowly relax as I considered what might help. I lifted her head so I could look at her. Tears clung to her lashes, and even in the weak light, those pale blue eyes seemed to beg me to make it right.

"I don't know what to say to make you feel better. I hate that he hurt you, and I hate that you're the one feeling ashamed. You didn't do one thing wrong. He's the asshole, not you."

"I shouldn't have trusted him. I should have listened to you."

"Yeah, maybe -- but why change now?"

That got a tiny smile, but it died right away. "I'll listen better in the future. If there is one."

"Of course there's a future, and it's a good one, too. You're going to get through this, and I'm going to help you. And one day, you're going to meet someone wonderful. You're going to adore each other and make cute little babies together and live happily ever after."

She shivered. "I wish that were true. But maybe there isn't anyone for me."

I kissed the top of her head. "There is, sweetie. I know there is. You just haven't met him yet."

Leaning against me, Layla sighed. "Why does it have to hurt so much?"

"I don't know. Maybe that's how we know we're fully alive."

She stiffened. "Well, that sucks."

"There's a reason I'm not a therapist," I told her. "I'm just a guy who loves you."

"The only guy."

I hugged her again in the dim room. "Maybe for now. But not forever. Promise."

**

The next day, Layla took up running, "to exercise my body and exorcise my demons," she texted me. I offered to run with her to keep her company, but she said she needed to be alone and anyway, she couldn't even hope to keep up with me. I texted back that keeping up wasn't the point, but she remained firm.

Needing to work off my own anger and pain, I went for a run myself. For the most part, it was a joyless sprint that wore me out but failed to improve my spirits. My mind didn't want to quiet down, and I kept thinking of Layla, alone in her bedroom, crying herself to sleep after that bastard left her to gloat with his buddy.

I don't know if there's anything harder than knowing someone you love is hurting and you can't make it go away.

**

At our next sibling dinner, Layla didn't feel like cooking, so I went by Vito's and picked up our favorite pizza. Seated at her kitchen table, we ate it straight out of the box, with none of her usual colorful plates and napkins. Unlike me, she picked at it, acting so different from her usual hearty self that I slowed down and finally stopped eating altogether and tuned in to what my sister wasn't saying -- at least out loud.

"All right. What gives?"

She plucked a slice of pepperoni off her pizza and raised it to her mouth, then put it back down. "I'm just not very hungry, that's all."

"He doesn't deserve all the mental and emotional real estate you're giving him. Gabriela says..."

She cut me off. "Thank you, Doctor Gary. I appreciate that keen insight."

At least she still had her sarcasm -- good sign, I thought. "OK, maybe that came off kind of condescending..."

"Not even 'kind of,' Gar," she shot back. "It was condescending. I don't need you playing the 'big brother knows best' card when you ran away and left me a decade ago. You haven't even been back six months yet. What gives you the right to tell me how I feel?"

Blinking at her fierceness, I took a breath and held it. "I didn't know you felt that way."

Glaring at me, she leaned forward, her cheeks red with sudden anger. "That's right. You don't know how I feel. So stop acting like you do."

Shrugging inwardly, I decided to plunge in, something we military guys excel at. "Tell me more."

Pausing for a moment, she looked back down at our cold food. "You're a man. I'm pretty pissed off at all of you right now."

"Got it."

This seemed to irritate her even more. "No, you don't get it at all! I have always been a good girl. I've done everything I was supposed to do. I got good grades and graduated with honors. I got a good job and built a good life for myself. I bought a house all by myself. I lost a bunch of weight to be more attractive. And what did it get me? An opportunistic prick who used me to win a bet with his buddy. How can you people do that to someone?"

She had a point. I just wished I had a good answer. "I don't know. I can't imagine..."

"Oh, come off it. You're no better. You used to change girlfriends like I change my socks."

I stared at her. "What?"

"You heard me." She raised her chin, challenging me. "Love 'em and leave 'em, that was our Gary."

"But -- that was years ago. I don't do that anymore."

"Well, you did. And that's why I'm mad. You men have all the power."

Seeing I had no way to win this argument, or even come out looking like a decent person, I decided not to try. "I'm sorry you're so unhappy. I wish I could help."

"Feel free to go kill him for me. Or maybe just beat the shit out of him."

Anger! Anger was good. Standing up, I bowed low. "Your wish is my command. Do you have a preferred method, or should I improvise and report back?"

That raised a faint smile. "Surprise me."

I smiled back. "I'm good at that. Now let me go heat up the rest of our dinner. Revenge takes strength."

She shook her head. "I'm really not that hungry."

Regarding her cheekbones, more prominent than I had ever seen them, I flicked a glance over the rest of her. "You're getting awfully skinny, sis. You really do need to eat."

"I thought men liked skinny girls."

I sat back down. "Some do. But most of us like to feel a little substance when we hug a woman. I mean, no one wants to snap a girl in half. Messy. And hard to explain to the authorities. Not to mention her mother."

She considered that. "I guess you have a point."

"Of course I do. And besides, I thought you were tired of trying to please men."

Tilting her head, she looked up at me. "This is true. There's no pleasing you people."

"I don't know about that! Most men are simple creatures. But I can see where you'd feel that way."

Her eyes gleamed. "Thanks."

I gestured at the pizza. "Now can we finish dinner?"

Her irritation returned. "Why don't you believe me when I say I'm not hungry?"

Concerned, I looked her over again, this time with the eyes of a medic. She did look pale, and thin, and I didn't like those circles under her eyes. "When was your last physical?"

She yawned. "Senior year, I think. A couple of years ago, anyway."

"Make an appointment."

"There's nothing wrong with me that reading Michael's obituary wouldn't cure."

"Humor me."

Rolling her eyes, she agreed. "Fine. Anything to get you off my back." She stood, and I could see her weariness even in that simple movement. "Want some tea? That's all I feel like right now."

"Sure, girly," and I stood up and pointed at her chair. "But you sit down. I'll make it for you."

She let me fuss over her, but I could see her heart wasn't in the conversation and left earlier than I normally would have.

Hugging her goodbye, I could feel her ribs and a surge of anxiety shot through me. "Remember -- make that appointment, okay?"

"I already said I would," she argued. "No need to get all het up."

Stepping back, I regarded her, worried. "I'm not all het up. I just care about you, that's all."

She gave me a wan half-smile. "I love you too."

The next day, I texted her to follow up. She surprised me by saying she had made the appointment as soon as she got to the office. "Sorry to be such a grouch last night. I haven't been feeling like myself lately. Luv u."

Smiling, I replied. "Luv u 2. Let me know how it goes."