Chapter Twenty-Six
What’s running through that brain of yours, Ry?” Julián mumbles, his lips brushing against the curve of my ear. I shiver.
“How long did you know I was awake?” I ask, somewhat avoiding his question, not wanting to ruin his morning by telling him that I’ve been thinking about my mom, that I might have a little separation anxiety from being under her finger for so long that now that I’ve had what feels like months of freedom, and I kind of miss her? It’s fucked-up and doesn’t make a lot of sense, but I keep finding myself wondering if she’s alright, if she’s lonely… even more than her usual loneliness.
“A while.” He nuzzles his face into the crook of my neck, the stubble gently brushing against my skin. I shiver once more. “Are you okay?” he questions, breath warm against my bare flesh.
My mom continues her stay in my head. The thousands upon thousands of times she’s asked me that very question, but never once did she mean it the way Julián does. He’s asking about my mental health, not physical. It warms me from the inside out. Last night as we stayed up late, staring and counting the stars, making wishes on them, some out loud and some silently, I wished my mom would find love again. Even if that meant finding peace and love for herself. I woke up thinking about her again, how her life played out, how I wish I knew more about her past but knowing she will never share it.
“Actually, if you really want to know, I’ve been thinking about my mom. Thinking about how much of her life I know nothing about. How much of myself I know nothing about because of the way she tucked her own history away. Her pain must have been so unbearable that she just shut it off, literally, and decided to never care again. She was so young, younger than me, when she not only moved across the globe, but had me.
“I don’t think there’s ever been a time when I’ve thought of her as a young girl alone determined to make something of herself while raising a child completely on her own. I’ve never once stopped being resentful toward her long enough to consider that she’s been working herself to death for me. Not to say she’s not addicted to the power and has a scarcity complex when it comes to money, but what started as a drive for more ended in a miserable, lonely life, and how unfair is it that the only person she has in her life, who she can’t fire, is me? When I’m gone, she’s not going to have anyone. The only person she’s ever loved is your dad… which I still can’t wrap my head around and imagine a world where her and your dad were in love…”
Julián’s hand runs along the side of the opposite cheek, tucking my hair behind my ear and nuzzling further into the crook of my neck.
“My pare is a good judge of character. He would never love someone who didn’t deserve it. The parts of her that are the most lovable are probably parts only he has seen. As kids, even though we aren’t kids, we never truly see our parents for who they are. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve despised your mom my whole life, sorry”—he winces and continues—“but the woman he wrote those letters for was worth loving and the cold, distant, and controlling woman you know is also worth loving,” he says confidently.
“Do you really believe that everyone deserves to be loved?” I let my thoughts roam into the air between us, not sure I agree with him, but wanting to believe it the same way he does.
“I don’t. Not everyone. I don’t think most people even know what love is, and I don’t believe that whole idea of humans being born good and all that either. I think our instinct is to be evil and we have to work against it, so those of us who do deserve love, but most people don’t.”
“How cynical.” I close my eyes, focusing on the way his fingertips drag lazily across my skin.
“And my mom would be considered evil by most people. Especially the ones who don’t have jobs because of her and the ones who won’t be able to see the ocean they call home because her resort is blocking the view,” I argue.
“An evil person and a woman trying to survive and support her daughter in the only way she knows how aren’t the same.” His words cause a heavy lump in my throat and my eyes to prick, fighting tears.
“What about babies? Don’t you think they’re born pure innocence and good?”
“Not all of them. Some of those babies grow up to do bad shit. Jails are full of adults who were once someone’s baby. The world isn’t black-and-white, and it’s certainly not a bright place, Ry. For you, I wish it was. I’m a cynic, just like you, and I think humanity may be doomed, but I’m happy if you’re happy and I’m so fucking thankful I met you and I don’t wish ill on anyone or these random babies you’re asking me about.” He lifts his face up slightly to kiss my cheek.
“But you’re a good person and only good things deserve to happen to you. That’s all I care about.”
My heart sinks. And soars. God, the world truly is unfair. Julián is going to end up hurt by me, one way or another, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
“Can we talk about something else?” I ask. My mind is too heavy and I’m fighting to not let the guilt consume me.
“Sure can. What about turtles? Do you like turtles?” he asks with a smile.
A laugh escapes me, and it works, he distracts me from reality. I love the way he never pressures me to ruminate or elaborate on a subject that I don’t want to.
“Turtles?” I laugh again. “That’s the first thing that popped into your head when I asked to change the subject?”
He joins me, his body gently shaking against mine. “Well, I didn’t think you would want to talk about climate change or politics…”
“You’re right.” We’re both giggly and buzzed off each other. “I do like turtles. Doesn’t everyone?”
He shakes his head. “No. I hate them. Fucking turtles. They’re the worst.” My breath catches in my throat from laughing, and I begin to cough.
Slight worry covers Julián’s face instantly and he sits up a bit on his elbow to look down at me. He hands me a half-full bottle of water and I down it. The light from the dock is shining on his face so gently, caressing the strong structure of his jawline, the plane of his nose, the thick of his brows. Such a wonder to behold, his beautiful face. It’s beyond me how close we’ve gotten, how much has changed, since the day we met at the beach. The grumpy, annoyingly hot man has turned out to be a deep, enchanting, caring soul who I’m bone-crushingly in love with.
Curious if he does or was just trying to make conversation, I wonder, “May I ask why on earth you hate turtles?”
“They’re just annoying. Everyone pretends to love them because they’re endangered, but they’re full of germs and just poop everywhere. Sea urchins are more my thing. They’re misunderstood and ignored just because they’re a little spiky, and the turtles are stealing all the attention, if you ask me.”
The random pettiness of his annoyance toward turtles is way funnier than it should be. I feel drunk, like I had another one of Fabio’s famous flaming shots. My stomach rumbles at the thought. No more Fabio for me this summer. That night feels like a fever dream.
“I mean, fair. But random. Do you have any other grievances with animals that I should know about?” I ask him.
He nods. “Too many to name. Dolphins, pigeons, rats, cats—” I cover his mouth with my hand.
“Dolphins and cats? I don’t know if this is going to work,” I tease, and he gently bites the tender skin of my palm.
“Have you ever read how dangerous dolphins can be? If you want to be terrified, I suggest you google it.”
“No way. Not googling it.”
“Do you have a cat?” he asks, reminding me of how little we know about each other on a personal level. He seems to be able to read my mind yet doesn’t know if I have any pets. If only we had the time.
I shake my head. “My mom hates animals.”
He nods. “Not surprised.”
“And your dad probably feeds strays all the time.”
Julián cracks a smile that makes my insides melt. “He does. It’s ridiculous. Dogs too.”
“And charming.”
“I guess so. But they never come back, they just take what they need from him and go on their way. Just like everyone else.” Julián’s tone turns serious, and my stomach twists.
Like my mom.
“Don’t think that way. It has nothing to do with you,” he says, literally reading my mind for the zillionth time.
“We aren’t going to pay for our parents’ mistakes.” He presses his lips against my forehead, and I close my eyes. He’s so much like his father, it and continues to show in the best way.
I try not to think about how lonely my mother has been for the last twenty-something years, or how different her life could have been if she had chosen Mateo over herself. Julián’s lips cover mine, drowning out the fading image of my mom’s alternative life, and I’m grateful that I’m choosing to embrace this feeling, however temporary, however painful it may be for both of us in the end. My mom will suffer, too, but she’s had twenty-three years to spend time with me and has chosen not to, and like Julián said, I’m not responsible for her mistakes.
Julián kisses down my bare body, stopping at my lower stomach.
“Can I ask what happened here?” he says, touching the ragged puffy scar on my lower abdomen. “I wanted to before… but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He touches his lips against it and I hold my breath. I’ve never had a boy, or a man, even see my scar, let alone touch and kiss it. I’m not embarrassed by it one bit, I just don’t know how much of the can of worms I want to open by telling him, but I also don’t want to hide anything else from him.
“I got into a knife fight in San Antonio.” I try to make a joke out it, my go-to when I’m unsure what to say. I use humor to deal with my trauma; it’s the only way I can stay afloat.
“Not funny,” he says with a contradictory smile. “You don’t have to tell me,” he adds, sympathy in his eyes.
“I’ll tell you if you stop looking at me like that.”
His brow rises. “Like what?”
“Like you feel sorry for me. It makes me feel awful. I hate sympathy and have had enough in my life to last ten more.”
Julián adjusts his expression and leans himself up onto his elbows at the side of my hips. “I definitely don’t feel sorry for you. Epilepsy or not, you’re still a spoiled rich girl,” he teases me.
“I had a kidney transplant when I was thirteen.” I brace myself for a dramatic reaction from him, but it doesn’t come. He studies my eyes and my scar, without a single trace of weirdness or panic on his face.
“Hmm, they must have really gotten you with that knife, what a badass you are.” He smiles.
I breathe, not realizing I hadn’t in a while.
“They really did.” I laugh, appreciating that Julián can handle way more than I had ever expected anyone to.
“I have something to tell you. I wasn’t going to, but I opened your locket when you slept when we first met, so I suspected something was going on. Most people don’t always have their blood type and emergency contact on them. You started to stir awake before I could read the rest, which I guess was the epilepsy.” His fingertips brush along the apple of my cheek, down the plane of my nose.
“I really am sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”
Shaking his head, he says, “As traumatic as the way I saw it firsthand was, you weren’t ready to tell me and that was your choice.”
“Yeah, I guess seeing me fall into a pool was probably pretty traumatic.” I cover my dark humor with a small smile.
He nods. “Sure as hell was. I kept waiting for the anger to come, to feel like you lied to me or purposely deceived me, but I guess my love for you outweighs any anger I could muster.”
“How poetic.” I touch the tip of his nose, and he grins.
“You can tell me the bloody details of your kidney transplant later. We have all the time in the world,” he says with a smile.
My heart sinks and soars, from the deeply understanding way he handles me and his na?ve optimism when it comes to time.
“What if we didn’t?” I clear my throat, elaborating, teetering on the edge of honesty. “Have the time, I mean?”
“Don’t you worry about time. I haven’t told you, but…” He sits up, back straight and proud. “There’s a legend here, that the first-born son of Mateo Garcia can start, stop, and re-create time. So you, my mortal love, have nothing to worry about—”
“For research purposes,” I interrupt with an ironic laugh, “what if we only had a limited time together, what would you do then?”
The idea of living in a fantasy world felt so damn good, but slightly unfair to Julián since he would be the one dealing with the aftermath.
“Just what we’re doing now. Thinking about changing things leads to disappointment and we’ve both had enough of that, correct?”
I laugh louder. “Yeah. I guess we have.”
“So, Ry, let’s focus on now. On what’s in front of us and hold on to it with our lives.”
His words comfort me as they tear me apart. He doesn’t understand that my life isn’t capable of holding on to a single thing. Not even him.