Choose Me by Xenia Ruiz Page B

the potential to cause some damage to our relationship.
    She pulled one hand away briefly to wave at me, her diamond-studded wedding band glistening in the dark.
    “How’re you getting home?” I asked, trying not to sound like a mother hen.
    She peeked out from around Luciano’s arm, grinning like a kid in a toy store. “Don’t worry.” Luciano looked over his shoulder
     at me with slight annoyance.
    Maya giggled and went back to kissing. I shook my head with resignation and started back up the stairs to go out the front
     way. I had to remember that even though she was my younger sister—by one year, she always stressed—she was an adult. All I
     could do was pray for her.
    “Eva!” she called out. “Where’s Adam?” She came up the stairs looking sheepish, her hair and lipstick a mess. I looked at
     her critically.
    “He’s inside, talking to Zephyr,” I told her quietly.
    “Are you mad at me?” she asked in a tiny voice. “I knew if I told you about Adam before, you wouldn’t come. He’s kind of nice
     looking, don’t you think? Despite the hair?”
    I wanted to grab her by the arm and pull her away from Luciano, protect her, but her face had that dreamy look she got whenever
     she was in church, deeply absorbed in the sermon. The fact that she had the same reaction with this Luciano guy that she had
     with God scared me. Part of me wanted to smack some sense into her, remind her that she was a married woman, a saved woman
     at that, and a principal for God’s sake, but I knew anything I said at that moment would fall on deaf ears.
    Without responding, I turned my back and went inside before I said something I’d regret. I wove through the costumed plastic
     bodies and fake hair and found Simone. Sometime in the midst of the evening, I had forgiven her for the bookstore incident.
    She screamed over the music, “Don’t leave!”
    Squinting, I pointed to my temple and waved. Using my migraines as an excuse was becoming a crutch, but sometimes it came
     in handy. She linked her arm in mine and walked me to the door.
    “So, what’d you think?” she asked.
    “Definitely better than Pam Grier.”
    We laughed and hugged, her Cleopatra Jones wig almost falling off. Then, truthfully I added, “You were good, girl.”
    She walked me to the door. As we stepped into the hallway, I almost ran into another couple wrapped up in each other’s arms.
     Simone snapped the hall light on and glared at the couple who didn’t even flinch when I squeezed by. I couldn’t wait to hit
     the bed.
    “Call me when you get home, girl,” Simone shouted.
    Down the three flights of stairs, I passed more couples, talking or kissing. Finally on the ground floor, I yanked open the
     downstairs door and almost ran into a figure in the vestibule. I jumped. It was Adam.
    “Sorry,” he said, pulling a cigarette from his lips. “Did I scare you?” I noticed he was holding the cigarette like one would
     hold a joint, between the thumb and forefinger.
    “Uh … no, you didn’t.”
    He blew smoke out of the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t marijuana, but I screwed up my face in distaste nonetheless. Cigarette
     smoke always made me think of my father, who I remembered had yet to return my call from a few days ago.
    Sensing my aversion, Adam tossed the cigarette on the floor, squashing it. I looked down at the stub, slightly displeased
     that he was littering the clean vestibule, but I didn’t rebuke him.
    “I’m trying to quit,” he explained as if I asked.
    I stepped from the vestibule and stood out under the awning and breathed in the misty air. The rain was really coming down,
     drowning the grass and forming puddles in every crevice and crack in the walkway.
    “Eva, right?” he asked.
    “Adam, right?” I countered sarcastically.
    He smiled, and I couldn’t help but smile back. He said, “I was wondering why Luciano and Maya wouldn’t tell me your name.
     What a coincidence, huh?”
    “I guess. So you knew