12. Valentina
Chapter 12
Valentina
I hate that my feelings are hurt.
A heaviness shrouds my frame, pressure pushing down on all parts of my being. My chest aches and my stomach twists. Fatigue sneaks through my limbs, and my head throbs.
I’m sleeping eight hours each night and waking up exhausted. I eat when I’m supposed to, at natural intervals, but hardly taste the food.
The only thing sustaining me is my work. Now that my papers are sorted, Dr. Mendoza welcomed me onto the team wholeheartedly, and assigned me tasks and research that have consumed my mental energy.
But every morning, I look around at Avery’s condo and wish he was in it. Instead, he’s practically living at the Honeycomb, traveling for away games, or hanging out with his teammates. Even when he’s in town, I barely have face time with him.
We’re two ships passing in the night as our schedules never align. I wake up at 7 a.m. every day, but he either sleeps in or is running before dawn. When I slide into bed at 11 p.m. after hours at the library, Avery is already passed out.
Our conversations consist of scattered text messages, sticky notes on the kitchen island that remind the other about recycling or other mundane things, and an occasional greeting if we pass each other while one of us is hurrying out the door.
At this point, we’re roommates. Not even the friendly kind but the convenient type. The man I said vows to, the one with the glimmering gray eyes and considerate perspective, has disappeared. In his place is a dedicated team captain, a driven football player, and a focused man. There’s no leftover mental bandwidth for his wife.
And I can’t blame him because I’m not supposed to be his wife in anything but name. Try explaining that to my stupid heart, which feels like it’s been through the wringer. I wonder if this is what it feels like to be some variation of lovesick. I’m obviously not in love with Avery Callaway, but I do care for him. And I miss him.
“Morning, Valentina,” Dr. Mendoza says as I enter the biology department.
“Good morning.” I manage a smile as I place my notebooks down on the table I claimed nearly three weeks ago.
I’m flipping through a chart when I note her shoes next to my worktable. When I look up, Dr. Mendoza is studying me with a shrewd assessment.
“Can I help you with something?” I offer.
She tilts her head, considering me. “Are you doing okay, Valentina?”
I glance around the office but other than a few admin, most who are typing with headphones on, the space is relatively empty.
“Yes, of course,” I answer quickly, feeling the blood drain from my face. Did I do something wrong? Is there more I should be doing? Am I not meeting her expectations? “Is there something?—”
She holds up a hand and I fall silent. “This has nothing to do with your work performance,” she says kindly, noting my distress. “You just haven’t seemed like yourself lately. You’ve been quieter, more withdrawn. I noticed you haven’t joined the rest of us for any of the lunches or happy hours. You do a wonderful job at managing your professional and academic responsibilities. Your work is impeccable, your research well documented. But you’re a newlywed, Valentina, and I’ve rarely seen you smile, or laugh, or even get lost in thought since you showed up with that ring on your finger.” She tilts her chin toward my wedding ring.
My thumb runs along the edge of the band, tracing it. When Avery placed it on my finger, I couldn’t contain the joy that rushed through me. I was proud and happy and…expectant about what our future held.
I never would have pictured this. Barely speaking, hardly seeing each other, a couple of text messages.
I sigh and nod my agreement to Dr. Mendoza. “It’s been a transition,” I admit quietly.
Her expression softens. “Marriage is hard. It takes work from both people. Compromises and sacrifices and communication.”
I bite my bottom lip, considering her words. Avery and I are failing at all three. Neither of us has given an inch in our routines to accommodate the other’s schedule. We hardly speak. And other than physically getting married and living in the same space, there haven’t been sacrifices.
It will never be rainbows and magic, Lena.
Avery was honest with me from the beginning. And he was right—he does provide. He left me a credit card on the kitchen island along with a sticky note telling me to buy whatever I wanted. His condo is warm and inviting. A cleaner comes twice a week, and groceries and hot meals are delivered on rotation.
He cleared out half the closet and drawers in the bathroom. I received an invitation to a Christmas party from West Crawford’s fiancée, Nova Marten, two days ago.
Life is exactly as he predicted it. So why does it feel harsh and hurtful? Why do I yearn for him at night and think of him in the mornings?
Why does my work—work that used to fulfill every part of my being—feel rote and mundane? When did I start falling for my husband, a man who would never want me if he wasn’t trying to prove a point to himself?
Tears burn the back of my nose and sting my eyes. I look up, hoping to keep them at bay and not embarrass myself further by crying in front of Dr. Mendoza.
She places a hand on mine and gentles her tone. “You’ve been working constantly, Valentina. Why don’t you take today to relax? To think and have some time for yourself. I promise, the work will still be here tomorrow. And we all do our best work when our minds are clear.”
I pull in a deep breath. “Are you sure?”
She smiles. “I am. Plus, you’ll be here late tomorrow as we have an evening session of presentations. I’d like you to speak at the start of the event. It’s a good opportunity for you to share the public education courses you’re introducing at Ijams Nature Center.”
My pet project—starting a series of talks and public education opportunities for avid bird-watchers, beginners, and even children at the nature center in Knoxville has been approved. It’s something I lobbied hard for and now that it’s coming to fruition, I should be elated.
Instead, I feel empty.
Still, the opportunity to share the new initiative at tomorrow evening’s event, one that will host alumni and university guests, isn’t one I can pass up.
“I’d like that,” I agree.
“Good.” Dr. Mendoza squeezes my forearm gently. “You can leave your notes here. Go, take a walk, have a hot coffee, and spend some time in nature, Valentina.”
“Thanks, Dr. Mendoza.”
“Oh, and don’t forget about the Smoky Mountains field work trip. We had to change the dates and are heading out?—”
“January 4,” I murmur. “I read the email last night.”
“Good. I think you’ll be the perfect addition to the team.”
“I appreciate the opportunity,” I say sincerely.
Dr. Mendoza smiles. “You earned it. See you tomorrow, Valentina.”
“Tomorrow,” I agree, releasing the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
I stow my notes and research in one of the office cabinets. Then, I gather my purse and coat and stride from the office. Knowing that I have a full day ahead of me, with no commitments, offers a small reprieve.
There’s an extra bounce to my step. A ray of sunshine in my outlook.
When I exit the building and turn my face to the clear blue sky and beams of the sun, my shoulders dip in relief. I’m grateful to Dr. Mendoza for giving me some time off and offering a fresh perspective.
Turning toward downtown, I walk at a leisurely pace, taking in the holiday decorations I’ve mostly missed while being caught up in my head these past few weeks.
The downtown area comes alive with the magic of Christmas, and I realize just how disconnected I’ve been. Withdrawn and aloof.
But now…a smile stretches across my face. There are holiday lights and festive storefronts. Ice-skating in Market Square and pictures with Santa Claus. Coffee shops boast specialty holiday coffees and hot chocolate concoctions. Restaurants are filling up with the brunch crowd.
The city is bustling. There’s an infectious energy in the air—the countdown to Christmas is on, but the urgency hasn’t hit with full force yet. Instead, holiday revelers are eager and excited. There’s joy and laughter.
And some of the gray I’ve been living in lifts to reveal slivers of color.
I dip into a coffee shop, inhaling the delicious aroma of coffee. I surprise myself when it’s my turn and I order a peppermint mocha instead of my usual café con leche.
The barista is wearing reindeer ears and smiles broadly when she passes me my steaming mocha. “Happy holidays!”
“Happy holidays,” I reply, beaming at her.
Taking my hot beverage, I tuck into a back table and spend a few moments watching the scene before me. Young couples grabbing a morning coffee, busy professionals getting a cup to-go as they balance buzzing phones, and young mothers with wild children in tow, looking like they need a caffeine hit.
It’s busy yet joyful. I blow on my hot coffee and pull out my phone.
A pang of disappointment cuts through me that there’s no message from Avery. But how much can I expect? He already married me!
I send Abuela a text promising to call her this evening. It’s been too long since we’ve spoken and I know she’s worried. Plus, I could use her advice.
I’m about to put my phone away when a text comes through on my sibling thread. Carla and Ale message in rapid Spanish.
Carla
Countdown to Christmas is on. Mami and Papi booked their flights. They arrive in Chicago on December 27.
Ale
Papá told me. I’ll see if I can book something too. I won’t be able to stay as long as them. I have a game on January 9.
Carla
YAY! If you come, I’ll get extra tickets to the Charity Gala the Tornadoes are sponsoring to promote and celebrate Girls Soccer in the city.
Ale
It’s fútbol, Carla. Don’t go all American on us now.
Carla
It’s December 28. Can you come?
Ale
Yep. Count me in.
Carla
Plus one?
Ale
jajaja
Carla
Vale?
I take a sip of my mocha and let the mixture of peppermint and chocolate run over my taste buds. I can do this. I can tell my family that I’m a married woman.
The fact that I haven’t told them yet is alarming. It’s something Raia swore not to share with Carla until I made the announcement to my parents and siblings. It’s something Avery believes I’ve already told them, and it wasn’t well-received.
But the truth is, when I called my parents up to tell them my visa was approved, and I would be staying in Knoxville to complete my research, they were angry and disappointed.
They didn’t understand why it’s important for my career to be here when there are tons of research opportunities available in Spain. In Europe. Why did I have to come all the way to America?
After their disappointment over news that brought me such joy, I knew telling them about Avery would be a mistake.
Instead, I’ve said nothing. I’ve allowed Avery to think my parents know the truth about our marriage. And I’ve allowed my parents to think that I’ve been too busy with work to call them.
Now, I don’t know how to share the news. Three weeks is way too long to sit on such life-changing information. But with Raia home in Knoxville for the off-season and deep into her own wedding plans, she hasn’t questioned it much. Especially since she knows, via Carla, how strict and uncompromising Papá can be, she seemed understanding when I said I needed to break the news in time, on my own terms.
What’s more surprising is why Avery hasn’t questioned things. Doesn’t he wonder why he hasn’t spoken to my parents yet? On some level, it must bother him that he has no connection to them, not even an acknowledgement of their new relation, especially when his family welcomed me with open arms.
Unless he truly doesn’t care.
My stomach twists painfully at the realization that that’s most likely the truth. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if Avery forgot all about it. Some days, it feels like he’s somehow forgotten about me too.
Ale
Vale, you okay? You’ve been quiet lately.
Carla
Research?
Ale
She could still give us proof of life.
Sighing, I snap a selfie of myself holding up my mocha and grinning broadly. But as I study the photo, I realize how exhausted I look. My skin is sallow, my eyes dull. Even my hair—usually full and bouncy—hangs limply.
Sighing, I delete the photo and mute the chat without responding. I need to tell my family the truth, but I don’t have the energy for that conversation today. Not when I’m feeling more like myself than I have in weeks.
“Valentina?” a woman asks tentatively.
I look up and recognize Nova Marten and Leni Strauss.
“Hi,” I say, managing a smile.
“How are you?” Leni asks.
“Good. Please sit down,” I offer, gesturing to the empty seats across from me.
Both women sit down, their hands wrapped around steaming mugs of coffee.
“Have you ever been here before?” Nova asks.
I shake my head.
“Oh, it’s so good. They do seasonal coffees throughout the year. Next fall, you need to try their pumpkin spice beverages,” she explains. She glances at her phone, a frown appearing between her eyebrows. “Excuse me,” she says, scrolling through a message. “It’s the daycare.” She reads through the message and smiles. Her eyes flick to mine. “Stella just started, and I think I’m having a harder time letting her go than she is…” She shows me her phone screen and I lean closer. “Her teacher just sent me this picture.”
A beautiful little girl with two pigtails sticking straight in the air and big blue eyes grins from the screen. Two gummy teeth are visible and a bit of drool pools in the corner of her mouth. “She’s beautiful,” I say truthfully.
“She’s the sweetest,” Leni shares.
“She’s something,” Nova laughs. “A handful most days but I miss her now that she’s not home.”
“It’s good that you’re back to work full time,” Leni assures her gently.
Nova sighs. “I think so. It’s time but…it’s hard to process all the big feelings sometimes. Anyway…” She turns her attention to me. “I’m happy I ran into you. Are you and Avery coming to the Christmas party?”
Shit. I’d left a sticky note with details about the party on the kitchen island yesterday, but Avery hasn’t responded yet. Does he want to go? As the captain, he should be present. But does he want me to attend with him? Or is it better if we keep our professional lives separate from our sham marriage?
I bite my bottom lip and fib. “I think so. To be honest, this week has been busy. I have a presentation at work tomorrow evening and?—”
“You do?” Leni asks. “For what? Sorry, we don’t really know what you do other than work at the university.”
“Yeah,” Nova says, her smile warm. “We’d love to get to know you better, Valentina. We’re so happy for Avery and for you.” She shrugs. “When the team travels, the wives and girlfriends try to meet up for a drink or coffee. We’d love for you to join us.”
“Oh…I…” I pause, flustered by their kind invitation. “I’d like that, too,” I say simply. And then, “I spend most days at the library and am always looking for an afternoon caffeine pick-me-up.”
“Girl, same,” Leni agrees.
I share a bit about my work and tomorrow night’s presentation with them. Leni explains that she’s preparing to launch a wedding planning business here in Tennessee, and Nova shares that she’s working on a baby fashion line. I love listening to their innovative ideas and plans as budding entrepreneurs. It’s so different than the structured work I do and it’s refreshing to learn about something new.
“I admire your creativity. Both of you,” I tell them. “I could never do something like that.”
“Well, we could never do what you do. Although your research sounds really interesting,” Leni replies, taking a sip of her coffee.
“I’d like to share the findings in ways that are engaging and fun for the general public. It’s why I’m starting some informational sessions at Ijams Nature Center,” I share.
“Oh! I love it there. I take Stella sometimes just for walks and to look at the butterflies and birds,” Nova says. “Send me the info for your sessions and we’ll pass by.”
“That’d be great,” I say enthusiastically. Save for Abuela and Avery, I’ve never had anyone appear so interested in my work before. My family never cared much, and I don’t have friends outside of my academic circles. Since I’ve come to the US, I haven’t really made connections in my department either. I really should join the group for lunch or a happy hour. Sitting here with Leni and Nova makes me realize just how cut off I’ve become from social interactions.
“Here.” Leni pulls out her phone. “Let’s swap numbers.”
“Okay.” I rattle off my digits and the women message me with their numbers. I can’t help but smile when I see their texts pop up on my screen. It feels nice to make friends, even if it’s only because of Avery. Even if I have to forfeit these new relationships once we divorce.
I bite my bottom lip, hating that the demise of my marriage is hanging over my head.
“I’ve gotta get back,” Nova says, pushing away from the table.
“I’m walking that way too,” Leni says, standing as well. “It was so good to chat with you, Valentina.”
“You too. Thanks for including me—us, for the party,” I say sincerely.
“Of course!” Nova flicks her wrist. “See you soon.”
“See you.” I wave good-bye as the women leave the coffee shop.
Then, I finish my mocha, take one last look around, and step back on to the street. A winter wonderland wraps around me, and I spend the remainder of the afternoon wandering in and out of boutiques, purchasing a few Christmas gifts, and soaking up the afternoon.
I feel more centered than I have in weeks. When I arrive home in the evening, I video-call Abuela.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” she answers, speaking in Spanish. Her eyes are narrowed. “And you look sick. Are you ill?”
I sigh. “No.” Tears well in my eyes.
“What’s wrong, mi tesoro ?” My treasure.
Her love makes the moisture in my eyes spill over into fresh tears. “Abuelita, I did something,” I admit.
She arches an eyebrow, a puff of laughter sounding. “Really? What did you do?” She shakes her head, not believing me. “You’re too hard on yourself, Vale, you?—”
“I got married,” I blurt out the truth, confiding in her before anyone else in my family.
The news renders her speechless and she rears back, as if my words physically jarred her. I suppose they did. “Married? To whom?”
I blink rapidly and drag the back of my sleeve over my eyes. “His name is Avery Callaway. He’s an American football player. And?—”
“Do you love him?” She cuts me off, peering at me with eyes that see too much.
My heart twists painfully and I gulp air. My God, what is Abuela going to think of me? “I…I care about him greatly. It was a whirlwind,” I admit. “I was caught up in the moment and…” I trail off, blowing out a breath.
“Why are you crying?” Abuela asks, taking this much calmer than I anticipated.
“Because…” I pause, trying to put my feelings into words. “Because I miss him,” I admit. “He’s so busy and I’m so busy and I never see him. Mamá and Papá don’t know, and I’m scared to tell them. I haven’t even told Carla and Ale. It feels like I’m living this giant lie.”
“Are you?” she shoots back, her lips pursed.
Yes! I want to cry out. But I can’t admit the marriage is fake. I just…can’t.
At my silence, Abuela sighs heavily.
“Valentina, you do not make impulsive decisions.”
“I know,” I nearly wail.
“No.” Abuela shakes her head. “I mean, it is out of character for you. If you said yes to this Avery Callaway’s marriage proposal, then you wanted to accept it.”
“I did,” I agree slowly.
“Is he good to you?”
I think about our five-day first date. “Yes.”
“Has his family embraced you?”
“With open arms.”
“Does he support you?”
“Yes. He’s the only person, besides you, who shows interest in my work.”
Abuela nods slowly, considering my responses. “Marriage is work, mi tesoro . It isn’t easy just because it’s finalized. If anything, that’s when it becomes harder. It tests you, even threatens to break you on occasion. That’s when you have to stick together, to show up for one another, to be in it together. You must communicate, Valentina. You must confide in each other. You must have faith.”
I suck in a breath, feeling my tears dry on my cheeks. “You and Abuelo were married a long time.”
“Nearly thirty years,” she agrees. “It felt like I lost a limb when he passed. But, Valentina, as much as I loved your abuelo, it wasn’t always easy. There were peaks and valleys. Highs and lows. The way you show up for each other during those lows determines how high your peaks will soar. You’re crying because you’re frustrated and confused and alone.”
As soon as she says the words, I recognize the truth in them.
“Why haven’t you told your parents?”
“They’re going to be ashamed of me,” I murmur.
Abuela nods, knowing I’m correct. “You’ll know you’re grown up, Vale?—”
“When I don’t care what anyone else thinks,” I finish the statement she’s been saying for years. My entire childhood, adolescence, and now, adulthood.
Abuela smirks. “Even your parents. If you love this man, if you want to be his wife and choose him as your husband, no one’s opinion should matter. Not when you are more than capable of knowing your own mind. Your own heart.”
I exhale shakily. “Thank you, Abuelita.”
“I’m always here for you, Vale. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“And I want to meet your husband.” Her tone is harder now.
I laugh and nod. “I can arrange that.”
“Good. Now get a good night’s rest. Tomorrow, sit your husband down and talk to him. If you can’t do that, you have no right being married in the first place.”
“Okay. I will.”
Abuela nods, satisfied with my response. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Good night, Abuelita.” I end the call.
I take a deep breath, feeling infinitely better that I confided in Abuela. At least someone in my family knows the truth and didn’t condemn me for it.
Now, if I can just talk to my husband and come to an understanding with him, maybe this feeling of peace will last.