Eduardo's Arc

Chapter 40 of 60

Saturday morning Eduardo was on his knees on the porch, prying up a rotten board, when he heard boots on the path. He knew the walk before he looked up. Slow. Easy. The walk of a man who had never worked a full day in his life. His cousin stopped at the bottom step and whistled through his teeth. He looked at the sagging roof, the cracked siding, the broken windows Eduardo had not gotten to yet. He wore a clean shirt and a grin Eduardo remembered from every bad night of his twenties. "Look at this," his cousin said. "The prodigal son. Fixing the shack." Eduardo set the pry bar down. He did not stand. "Heard a girl was asking around for you," his cousin said. "Brown hair. Tattoos. Same one from before?" "Yes." "She know you yet, or is she still deciding?" Eduardo felt the old heat rise. He put his palm flat on the board. He breathed the way the angel woman had shown him. Three in. Six out. His cousin climbed one step. "You remember what I told you about her. Back then. In the truck." "I remember." "I was drunk. You know that, right?" The grin widened. "I never touched her. She wouldn't look at me. I just wanted to see your face." Eduardo stared at him. Eight years. Eight years he had carried that lie like a stone in his mouth. Eight years he had thrown it at Kiersten across a kitchen table until she stopped defending herself. His cousin had said it once, and Eduardo had believed it because believing it let him be cruel. "I know," Eduardo said. His cousin blinked. "You know what." "I know you lied. I knew after she left. I kept it anyway because it was easier than knowing what I did." His cousin's grin thinned. He climbed another step. "You gonna let me in? I could use a drink. For old times." "No." "Come on, cousin." "No debts," Eduardo said. "No cards. No drinking. No lying. That's the house now. You don't fit through the door." "You think she'll take you back because you fixed a porch?" "She won't take me back. That isn't the work." His cousin looked at him a long moment. Something in his face shifted, went mean. He spat on the step and turned and walked back down the path. Eduardo watched him go until the road took him. Then he sat down on the top step and shook. Not from fear. From the weight of it lifting. The lie he had used to hate her was not his to carry anymore. He had named it out loud, to the man who told it, and the man had not been able to hold his eyes. He went inside and opened the ledger. He wrote the date. He wrote: My cousin came. He lied about her, years ago. I believed him because I wanted to. Today I said it. He left. He closed the book. He picked up the pry bar. The board was still rotten. He went back to work.