I meet Karl’s eyes, and his gaze is cold and distant when he explains to Adrian that I’ll be moving to Mexico soon and that Fritz will likely be escorting me.
I’m surprised when Karl and Adrian offer to take on the dishes since I cooked. It’s a wonder they’re so normal when I’ve had them on a pedestal ever since I got heavy into metal music. But they’re both sweet guys at the bottom of it all.
“Would you guys like to play a game?” I ask when they’re done cleaning up.
Karl spins around to spear through me with his dark glare. “We’re not playingLotería,” he roars, and I laugh.
“That’s not what I was thinking,” I say. And honest, it wasn’t. I want to keep Adrian distracted and entertained. Kind of like I do with Isael when I babysit him. “I was actually thinking poker or dominoes or something,” I say.
Karl’s shoulders relax, and he looks a little embarrassed. “I have dominoes,” he says and heads to his room to retrieve them.
We settle into the night, playing games and talking. I’m craving some beers with this conversation but want to be respectful of Adrian.
“Adrian, what can you tell me about Karl? He refuses to dish anything up.”
Adrian’s dark smile is mischievous. “Oh, this could be fun. Let’s see, he’s a sad little orphan—”
Karl smacks Adrian in the arm. “I’m not an orphan. My parents aren’t dead.” He pauses, then adds, “I don’t think.”
Adrian chuckles. “They dropped him off at a fire station, so, same difference—”
“They did not!” Karl whines with embarrassment.
I watch him carefully. He’s being playful, but the hurt is there in his beautiful blue eyes. Is this why he didn’t have Christmases growing up, and why he won’t talk about himself?
Adrian clears his throat and continues. “He was a little street urchin like Gavroche,” Adrian jokes.
I laugh. “Well, he’s had a better ending than poor Gavroche.”
“Who is Gavroche?” Karl whines.
I roll my eyes. “Pick up a book or something,” I joke because I know how well-read he actually is, and he’ll take this as a challenge.
“Will you just tell me?” Karl snaps.
“He was a street kid in a classic. Adrian is saying you were a street kid like him.”
Karl shifts in his seat. “I wasn’t a street kid. I grew up in foster care.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, Karl. I shouldn’t tease you about that,” I say.
Karl smiles a sad little smile, then turns to Adrian. “And you need to be more sensitive. Lola here actually is an orphan.”
“Ouch,” I say. “That stung.” The truth of the matter is, I never thought of myself like that, but I guess I am.
Adrian’s eyes lock on mine. “I am too,” he says.
“I know. I’m sorry,” I say.
“How long have they been gone?” Adrian asks.
“Just over a year.”
He nods, and a silent moment of understanding passes between us. We’re made of the same stuff now, Adrian and me. Regret, pain, longing, feeling left behind, and worst of all, guilt.
“They named me Dolores,” I say, getting ready to explain my curse. “It means pain in Spanish—” but before I can get the full explanation out, Karl interrupts me with a snort.
“More likepain in the ass,” he says.