Mayra was one of the most important people in my life. I never thought I would have the kind of relationship I had with her, and if I did anything to fuck it up, it was unlikely I would ever find something like this again. Even if I did find someone as patient and willing as Mayra, it wouldn’t be her. No one else would ever touch me the way she had.
With panting breaths, I stepped off the mat and made my way back upstairs. Mayra was in the kitc
hen, stirring something that smelled like vegetables and spices in a big pot.
I silently watched her for a long moment. I didn’t think she realized I was back upstairs as she continued to cook and rock her shoulders a little to a song in her head. Knowing how much I didn’t like to be startled by people behind me, I moved slowly into her field of vision and leaned against the counter.
Mayra looked up at my face and then down to my bare chest. She raised her eyebrows slightly before she looked back to the pot.
“I used up all the potatoes you had in the pantry,” she said.
“I’ll put them on my shopping list.” I pulled open the junk drawer and grabbed a pen.
For a second, my gaze caught the Ziploc bag with the lottery ticket in it. I’d done a pretty good job of forgetting about it, but now I couldn’t stop thoughts of it from swirling around in my head.
No one had claimed the winning ticket yet. I didn’t know what the winning numbers were, and I didn’t know what numbers were on the ticket. If I looked at one set of numbers, I’d have to compare it to the other. If they matched, I’d be forced to act on it.
If the ticket was the winner, I’d have more money than I would ever know what to do with. I could buy a bigger house for Travis and Bethany. I could get Megan private care. I’d have to hire an accountant and a lawyer. People would constantly ask if they could have some of the money. They’d come up with good reasons, and I wouldn’t know if I could believe them or not. If I said no, they might be angry with me. I might even need a bodyguard.
The skin on the back of my neck warmed and my stomach cramped up. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to force the thoughts from my head. This was why I couldn’t even look at the ticket. The idea of making such crucial decisions was just too overwhelming. I couldn’t even make a decision about attending a get-together with people from my graduating class.
“Matthew? Are you okay?”
I swallowed hard and quickly closed the drawer.
“I’ll go to the party,” I said quietly.
“Are you sure?” she asked. “You’ve gone a little pale.”
“I’m sure.” I watched as her smile took over Mayra’s face. She dropped the spoon in the pot and wrapped her arms around my neck.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.”
~oOo~
For the next three weeks, I tried not to think about the party.
Normally, I would do the opposite. I would try to imagine what something new would be like, how it would look, or what it would feel like to be in a new place, but this was different. Every time I even tried to think about going to a party, I’d start to panic, and I didn’t want Mayra to realize I was getting upset and call it off.
So I just tried to forget about it.
Mayra was really excited and kept talking on the phone to various people on her soccer team and in our class about what time to be there, what everyone was wearing, and who had decided to go to Aimee Schultz’s parent-chaperoned party instead.
The best way to not think about it was to make out with Mayra on the couch, which we did a lot, usually shirtless, though Mayra always left her bra on. Still, it was warm skin-on-skin and added a lot to the experience.
The second best way was to read a set of books that mysteriously appeared on my desk about two weeks before school let out. Bethany had been over earlier to make me dinner, and when she left, they were there next to my computer—books about women and sex.
It wasn’t the same shit they taught you in health class—that was for sure.
With a week left before we graduated, Mayra was on her back, and I was on top of her with my shirt off. Mayra was wearing a white, short-sleeved, button-down blouse with most of the buttons undone.
“Should I take this off?” Mayra groaned against my mouth. I felt her hand move to her collar.
“Mmm…I got it,” I replied. I pushed at the sleeve over her right shoulder while I trailed kisses over her jaw and down her neck. As I reached her throat, I opened my eyes to find and poke her birthmark. That’s when I realized I had pushed not only her shirtsleeve down but her bra strap as well.
I froze for a minute, looking at her completely bare shoulder where there was usually a little thin strap of white or blue or beige. Without thinking, my fingers traced over her skin and down the imaginary line where her strap was normally located. I watched my index finger as I tapped the fish-shaped birthmark then moved a little farther down to the top of her breast.
Swallowing involuntarily, I peeked back up at her bare shoulder and then her face, my eyes questioning. Mayra licked her lips quickly then raised herself up a little and reached around her back. A moment later, her bra went slack—revealing just a little more of her breasts to me.