always red.

Chapter 7 - fire truck

Maria

Christmas morning.

The aroma in the air was something of pine cones. Vanilla. Musk and Beachwood. Sometimes, I forgot I lived in Las Angeles. The smell always reminded me, even on Christmas.

I had the hors d'oeuvre's and le Gâteaux's ready for packing in the minivan. Jake hated when I called them that. I know they're cakes and sandwiches but I love to add a little flair to life. There's nothing wrong with a little flair.

"Giselle, you and your brother take something to the car. Help out, please," Jake ordered the children.

Giselle responded with a roll of her mascara laden eye lids.

She had such an attitude all the time. I almost felt like she was really mine sometimes. Like she really climbed out of my shoot after nine months of stealing my genes and rearranging my guts. If you think about it, it's better this way. I had a baby without the mangling of my body.

Everyone hauled ass in the car. We were driving to the Garcia's house for Christmas dinner. They were having a potluck. I figured, why not. Might as well show face and catch up.

I was attending this get-together out of sheer curiosity.

Something about the invite felt off to me.

The house was big, of course, sticking out like a sore thumb in this out-the-way suburb of Anaheim. It had a grand, imposing façade. Pointed arches, ornate trim work, the wrought iron gates, tall narrow windows.

The house was like a prop on a movie set. Full of drama, similar to its owner.

"Paloma," I greeted as she approached the van.

She extended her arms to give me a hug.

"Glad you could make it," She exclaimed.

The hug was swift, too quick to mean anything. She grinned with one corner of her lips. She took too long looking at me. It was as if she were examining me.

"Come in," She urged, motioning towards her oversized front doors.

I felt like I was entering an insane asylum. Maybe this was an insane asylum. Maybe this was the moment I'd be locked away a long time for good. Maybe this was all a set up plan orchestrated by Jake. He was getting me back for the other day and all the other days where I've made a bitch out of him.

Life was finally catching up to me.

"Everyone, this is Maria and Jake Redwood, and their beautiful family."

I was greeted by strangers. No one here was familiar. I thought there would be a few people from college. None.

I guess everyone had moved on. Grew up. Moved all over the world. No one was stuck in 1985 like me.

"Hello Maria," They all responded, glasses of wine and coco in their hands.

This shouldn't be too bad.

"Don't forget the hors d'oeuvre's and le Gâteaux's!" I reminded Paloma. "I worked especially hard on those."

"Oh, thanks. We've already eaten." She stammered. "You can set them on the counter there."

Ungrateful.

We weren't that late.

They must have started early.

The kids and Jake ate the food. I stuck to a cup of spiked eggnog. I needed it like it needed me. 

We were cramped in the corner of the house.

Paloma and her Latin husband sat on the loveseat, peering at their guests like two pharaohs.

Paloma glanced at me each time she took a swig from her wine. I wasn't sure if it was intentional or not. Was she looking at me because I was looking at her? Or was it the other way around?

"So, Paloma," one of her friends interjected. "When are you going to finally retire?"

Retirement. The very word almost made me spit out my eggnog.

I noticed Giselle eyeing my drink.

"Don't even think about it." I mouthed.

She rolled her eyes again, heading over to the table with nonalcoholic sodas.

"Retirement?" Paloma mocked, switching her attention to her husband beside her. "I'm not that old, am I?"

"She's been working since I met her. You remember that day, babe?"

"How could I forget?" She replied. "Let's see. I was twenty-three. Just graduated from nursing school. New grad nurse. Working on the greasiest medsurg floor in Las Angeles. And there you were."

"There I was."

"In your LAFD uniform." She beamed. "Looking for a pencil and a notepad."

"So I could write your number down, of course."

The guests answered with an overabundance of laughter and coos.

I cringed internally, not matching their superfluous energy.

Neither did Jake, Giselle, or Germany. All four of us looked odd amongst the swanky Garcia and friends.

But I wasn't cringing because of the very much rehearsed retelling of their thirty-year love story.

"Speaking of nursing school," One of their guests mentioned. "My daughter Danielle just started her first classes last semester. She'll be in pediatrics next year."

"Oh, that's great." Announced Paloma. "What school?"

"Rasmussen."

The house grew silent.

I took a sip from my spiked eggnog.

Jake wasn't fazed by anything. He had no idea the significance of that school.

"Oh," Paloma said, interrupting the silence. "I went there too. Great school. It's affiliated with the hospital too."

"Didn't...Naomi go there too?" Someone else asked.

I froze.

So did Paloma. Her eyes traced the room until they landed on me. An odd smile shone on her lips.

Or maybe she wasn't smiling. Maybe I was just imagining it.

"She did." Said Paloma, bluntly. "She was one of the smartest nurses I knew."

The air was thick. I felt as if I were on fire. The house was set ablaze by the spark. The high ceilings caving in with each second that ticked by.

Giselle's eyes wandered from Paloma to me. I could see the wheels turning in her head. But I was much too preoccupied to really notice.

"Excuse me, I have to use the restroom."

I didn't know where her restroom was. I just went as far as I could away from the living room. Away from the onlookers. Away from Paloma and her summoning eyes. Away.

Away from the smoldering of the fire, chasing me.  

I reached the restroom. Hovered over the sink with the water running high, I felt like I would vomit.

The mirror stared back at me. In my eyes, I saw red: red eyes and the same red hair I had in 1985.

My temper flared up like the raging fire as I stormed out of the bathroom.