Chapter 19 #2
He hesitates before darting his gaze to Luis, who studiously ignores us as he and Alejandro hoist my queen-size box spring.
It wouldn’t surprise me if, despite its awkward length and width, either of them could carry it on their own.
A moving van showed up twenty minutes ago, so I really have to plan for what I’m going to do with everything that’s now packed.
“Chica, you labeled all the boxes clearly, so it’ll be easy to tell what’s what. We can ship the things you want in New York, and we can store or get rid of the rest.”
I stare at him for what feels like forever.
“Am I really moving to New York?”
“I know this is a huge decision, but I hope that’s what you want.”
“I want to be with you, and you’re based in New York. I know you have to be. It’s just a lot for me to wrap my head around. Not only would I be moving to another country, I’d also be moving there for a guy.”
Before Mamá got sick, I thought I’d stay in the States.
I thought I’d be living there right now, but I’m not.
I changed my plans for the sake of my family.
Knowing I could go back to what I wanted all along should reassure me.
However, it’s still intimidating, especially when I add a romantic relationship into the mix.
“Are you afraid we won’t work out?”
I hear a hitch in his voice. He hates the idea of my leaving him. I know he’s committed to me. He wouldn’t do all of this—ask me to be part of his world—if he didn’t want me to be at his side permanently. I fully understand that now.
“That’s one thing I absolutely do not fear. It’s a lot to think about, though. Moving to a new country, setting up a new place.”
Hurt flashes in his eyes before he nods.
“What did I just say that bothers you?”
His eyebrows shoot straight up. He didn’t realize he let me see his emotions. Or maybe I can read them when most people can’t.
“Until we’re sure the threats are entirely gone, I’d like you to stay with me, please.”
He’s hedging.
“And after that?”
He watches me. I’m waiting for an answer, but he’s not giving one. That’s when I realize what I said a moment ago.
“Daddy, I don’t want to assume we’re going to live together from the get-go. You might not want someone in your home this quickly.”
“Chica, why would I say, ‘our bed,’ ‘our room,’ ‘at home,’ if I didn’t want you there for good?”
“I didn’t want to read too much into it.”
“You need to read a hell of a lot more into it. Flora, I want you to live with me.”
The men are still moving around my kitchen and living room, but a guy knocks and asks if we’re ready for them to take the boxes in my room down to the truck. We step into the bathroom again, but we keep the door open.
“Pablo, that’s a massive step. Are we there yet? Maybe I can put my stuff in storage in New York and get somewhere furnished for a while.”
He observes me again before he nods his head. It’s just weird to think I might live with a man I don’t love. It seems premature, or at least out of order. To live together, then maybe—eventually—say I love you.
“Daddy, I’m not saying never. Let’s just get to New York in one piece, then we’ll decide.”
The way he looks at me makes me think there’s more he wants to say, but he’s holding back. He’s following my lead in this, and I appreciate it. But I also don’t think I like it as much as I tell myself I should.
“Chiquita, I know you’re giving up your job and your family to come to the States. You’re giving up your home and your friends. You’re giving up the plans you had.”
“I’m giving up time with Mamá. I’m not excited about going long stretches without seeing her, but I don’t always see her weekly.
It can be two or three weeks, even though we live in the same city.
It’s just not months anymore like it was in college and grad school.
I’ll miss Mamá’s parents, but I won’t miss my father’s. ”
I want to vomit thinking about my abuelo. I’m sure there’s still a shit ton I don’t know—a shit ton I don’t want to know.
“Once you’re settled, maybe your mother would like to move up to New York.”
I consider what he’s saying. I said I don’t want to move in with him yet, but I want to eventually.
“Where would Mamá fit into that?”
“Would you want her to live with you?”
“No. And when we live together, she’s definitely not going to be there either.”
Relief eases the strain around his eyes when he hears me acknowledge we’ll live together at some point.
“I never thought she would. But she could live near—us.”
He tests out “us,” and I nod. His body relaxes, even though I don’t think his stance changes. I can just tell. I don’t want to stress him out on top of how he’s worrying about my safety, but I want to look before I leap.
“That would be nice if she wants to move to New York, but I don’t think she ever will. She’ll visit, but I don’t think she’d give up her life here.”
“You have a career here.”
“No. I have a job. I always wanted to work in a lab. I became a pharmacist because it was somewhat parallel to what I planned, and the hours were convenient for when Mamá was sick. I thought about going back to the States to work, but Mamá asked me not to. I’ll miss friends, but it’s not like I hang out with them every night.
I live in an apartment, which I like, and it’s home, but it’s not something I’m overly attached to.
I was saving for a house before I moved back here.
The more I think about it, the more I feel like my life is getting back on track by moving to New York. ”
“Tía Luciana and Tía Catalina are in the real estate industry. They can help you with anything you need.”
“Thank you.”
The men carry down the last of my stuff before I lock my door. Then we’re on our way to my mother’s.