Ten Year Grudge

I didn't respond to that comment. I wasn't sure I wanted to know what he meant. So instead, I did what I do best: I changed the subject.
"What did you mean by I wasn't the only one that suffered?"
Ace looked confused for a moment. Then one side of his mouth quirked. "No changing the subject."
"What subject?"
He chuckled. "Has anyone ever told you you're impossible?"
"Why yes, thank you for the compliment."
He laughed and joined me at the rail. After a moment, he sobered. "After my mom left, I was stuck with my Dad. He makes yours look like a saint."
I had a feeling I wasn't going to like this story, but I prompted him on with a nod.
He blew out a stream of air. "He was a drug smuggler. He helped ship the product over The Rio Grande and got paid what would be minimum wage in this country. But most of the money he got he blew on coke or booze. When he wasn't working, he was always high or drunk or a combination of both. He would bring his friends over and they'd be equally intoxicated." He paused.
I moved closer, trying to offer support without being pushy. But I wanted to know the rest. "Did they...?" I let my sentence trail off.
He smirked without humor. "Molest me? No, not physically. The women were worse than the men most of the time. A lot of them were putas my dad had picked up on the street for cheap. Two sales is always better than one so when my dad was done, he would fall asleep and they would try to sell to me."
I ground my teeth for a moment, then forced myself to relax my jaw. This was just reinforcing my opinions that all Mexicans were bad.
Ace continued. "But at least when he had friends over, he didn't go at me. A lot of the time he was too wasted to get physical, and when he did I normally avoided the blows. But he was always blaming me for why his life was screwed up. He would tell me that I wasn't really his son, just a result my mom's sleeping around on him. That I needed to be punished for that."
He stopped. This was probably the first time he'd talked about it. I knew that talking about things with my therapist had made me feel a lot better when I was younger. It didn't solve the problem, but it helped. I wasn't a therapist, so I comforted him the only way I knew how; I slid under one of his arms that was braced on the rail and wrapped my arms around him. He was rigid for a minuet, then he sighed and wrapped his arms around me. Normally I wasn't an emotional person, but this felt...right.
"How did you get out?" I asked.
"I had an elderly neighbor who let me stay with him when I was finally able to sneak out. I cooked for him and cleaned his house and he let me stay and didn't tell anyone where I was. Eventually, my Mom and your Dad got the money together to get me out and I went up to live with them."
Neither of us spoke for a few minuets. We watched the horses load for the next race with Patty's Cake going into the number one slot. The colt balked the first time going in, and again the second time. Eventually, four gate attendants shoved the horse in and began loading the others. When they were all loaded, the bell rang and the front doors flew open. Patty's Cake broke badly, starting out the race dead last. Oh darn.
"I'm sorry," I said finally.
"For what?" Ace asked and I detected bitterness in his tone. "It's in the past."
"But what's in the past affects our future. It's my turn to be the shrink. Have YOU ever dated?"
"Define dating."
"See each other more than four times?"
"No. I've never dated."
"Has it occurred to you that all girls aren't like the girls your Dad brought home?"
"As with you, I have nothing to compare it to."
"Maybe you should try to date."
"Look who's talking."
"I've had a bad experience; you have no experience."
"Oh novia I have plenty of experience. Just because I've never really dated anyone doesn't mean I'm a virgin."
I felt my cheeks heat. "Not that kind of experience. Like dating, caring for someone and trying to make it work."
"Most girls aren't worth the trouble."
"Because they don't want to deal with guys that have attitudes like you do," I snapped.
"I said most. If you genuinely care for someone, it might be worth a shot."
"And who would you deem worthy of such an honor?" The second the question was out, I knew I would regret the answer.
Ace didn't speak for a moment. Then, he spoke softly, "you."