Chapter 33
SARINA
As beautiful as Harper and Chloe’s wedding is, and as happy as I am for the two of them, I can’t help but feel distracted.
Between my dad checking his phone nonstop during the ceremony and the way Tomás’ leg hasn’t stopped tapping since he sat down, their unease has spread to me, and I can’t help but feel that something is bound to happen.
What that means exactly, I’m not sure, but I can sense it.
And not being able to figure out what’s going on while I stand at my sister’s side, fulfilling my role of maid of honor, has me wanting to crawl out of my skin from the suspense.
It’s not until Harper and Chloe are announced wife and wife and make their way down the aisle, and everyone disperses to the cocktail hour location, with the bridal party leading the way, that I feel like I can breathe. Now it’s time to figure out what the hell is going on.
I reach for my phone tucked in my bra to text Tomás, and in the corner of my eye I see my dad storm past me, with my mom trailing behind, calling after him —but in typical my dad fashion, he ignores her.
Meet me at the bar
Tomás
Can’t
Why the hell not?
“Because I’m right behind you,” Tomás says from behind me with both arms draped over my shoulders. I place my phone back in my bra when I see blood.
I snatch his hand into mine, unable to look away from the bruises marring his knuckles, or the cuts scattered on them.
He lowers his lips to my cheek, first for a kiss before gliding them to my ear. “It’s nothing.”
I flip around, breaking his hold on me, still holding onto his bruised and bloody hand. “This isn’t nothing. What happened?”
“What needed to be done,” he mumbles, with a stern expression that’s not directed at me, but instead over my shoulder, and the feeling I had that something was going to happen creeps in again.
“Sarina.” That’s all my dad has to say and my stomach drops. I squeeze Tomás’ hand, not giving a damn if any of the blood gets on me. I need the comfort. His comfort.
My dad says my name repeatedly. Each time more condescending then the last, and every time I hear it spewed out with such venom it brings me back to when I was living under his roof.
Always a nuisance. Always to blame. No matter what it was, I —for some reason— was the lucky one to always be his punching bag.
Tomás’ attention on me, he whispers, “It’s okay.”
I nod knowing full well it’s never okay when it comes to my dad. And to make matters worse, he’s slurring his words, meaning he’s been drinking since before the ceremony, given that cocktail hour only just began.
“Do not make me same your name again, little girl.”
My eyes pinch closed for a split second. They don’t open until Tomás moves his hand from squeezing mine to being wrapped around my shoulder, so that we are both facing my dad, together.
“You have a lot of fucking nerve, you know that?” My dad spews, gaze locked on me.
Tomás words echo in my head on repeat as I try to convince myself that it’s okay, when in fact, I know deep down that it’s not.
None of this is okay.
I’m not okay.
It’s not okay that my own father has nothing but hate in his eyes and is glaring at us, on my sister’s wedding day of all days.
It’s not okay, that he insists on speaking to me like I’m beneath him.
It’s not okay that whatever it is that has him in a mood, is somehow my fault.
I lived my entire life being at the mercy of his mood swings and I’m done.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I manage with a steady voice, even as my heartbeat has taken residency in my eardrums.
Stunned, my dad looks at me with ample disgust spewed across his face. “I don’t know what has gotten into you or who the hell you think you’re talking to like that, but if you don’t follow me outside right now so we can talk about your latest stunt, I swear to god I’ll…”
There’s no finishing that sentence, not when Tomás has positioned himself in front of me, blocking my view of my dad.
“There won’t be a need for any of that.”
“Excuse me?” My dad tries to make his way around the barricade Tomás has created.
“You heard me.”
“You know, for someone who needs me to sign off with your firm, you sure have an interesting way of trying to impress me.”
“First of all, I don’t need anything from you. And the only person I care to impress is the woman you foolishly think you can berate in front of me.”
A sadistic laugh erupts from my dad. “You mean my daughter?”
“Who so happens to be my wife.”
“Go to hell. It’s a sham marriage intended to circumvent my mother’s will.
All Sarina’s idea, I’m sure.” From what I can see from my very limited periphery, my dad waves his hand toward Tomás, stumbling a bit as he does.
But of course, as always, my dad has found a way to take what someone else has said or done and make it my fault.
Air catches in my throat as tears that won’t yet fall swell to my eyes.
Speak, goddamn it.
Stand up to him.
“Earth to Sarina,” he mocks as my brother’s close the doors to the cocktail hour room before they come over and stand on either side of us.
“I’m only going to say this once, you have five seconds to get the fuck away from my wife or…”
“Or you’ll what? Huh? Punch me like you did James?”
Tomás laughs, dry and sarcastic. “And fuck up my hand again? Tempting, but no.”
“Exactly what I thought.”
“But I’ll tell you what I will do. I’ll share this-” Tomás takes out a small tape recorder. “Evidence of your involvement in the altering of your mothers will…”
My hearing fades. I had a sinking feeling he was involved, but to hear that my own dad was responsible, reduces him to a new low, and it’s hitting me harder than I thought.
“Oh please, do you know who I am? You think anyone will pursue charges? If anything, you’re the one that should be afraid. All it’ll take is one call to the bar association, letting them know that after you are ruining the second chance given to you. You can kiss your career goodbye.”
I don’t know what my dad is referring to with Tomás, and quite frankly, I don’t give a fuck.
This man who gave me life, who burdened me with his last name, and all the hell that comes with it, isn’t a father. He’s a bully.
“How could you?” I step away from the shield Tomás has been providing me with.
I know Tomás wants to run to my rescue, but instead he stands at my side, offering me support like I’ve never experienced before.
“How could you do that? You know how much Grandma meant and still means to me. How could you be so cruel?” I squeeze Tomás’ hand for moral support.
My dad remains unfazed. “Please, it was a fucking piece of cheap costume jewelry. It wasn’t even anything valuable she left you.”
“It is valuable, because it came from her. Did you even listen when she shared the story about how papa gave her that ring when they had nothing? Or about how sentimental it was to her?”
It’s useless, it all goes in one ear and out the next with him. “Are you done?”
“No, I’m not.”
Years worth of repressed anger rise to the surface through my words, all of it painful, so much so that speaking them into existence feels too heavy for me to bear.
There’s so much I want to say, that I need to say, but I can’t.
I become frozen, by the reality that this will likely be the last time I ever see or speak to my dad, and as needed as that separation is, it comes with a level of grieving that no child should ever feel when staring at their parent.
Sensing the overwhelm I’m experiencing Tomás brings my hand to his lips, placing a kiss on it before pulling me into him. His lips at my ears, he whispers. “It’s okay. I can take it from here, if you want me to.”
“Yes,” I manage, barely. “Please.”
The look of horror on my dad’s face is priceless as Tomás fishes for something in his pocket. My grandmother’s ring. He slips it onto my finger.
“You can’t do that,” my dad protests.
“Actually, I can. Make no mistake, she may be your daughter, but she is my wife. She’s mine to protect from monsters like you.
Mine to hold on a pedestal, one that she’s been made to believe her entire life she’s not worthy of.
Mine to love for as long as there is breath in my lungs and if an afterlife exists, then as well. ”
As Tomás continues, all the unease I’ve felt begins to wash away. I don’t care that my dad is shooting daggers at us with his eyes, or that everything Tomás is saying to and for me is being heard by my brothers and any lingering onlookers there may be.
“I’ll admit our marriage was abrupt, to say the least. We didn’t plan on barreling into each other’s lives like we did.
Our time together has been nothing short of a whirlwind, but a much needed one.
But I’d rather exist in the consequences of your hatred, than go a day without the love your daughter makes me feel. ”
“Fuck,” my brother Noah shouts, completely ruining the moment. But the comedic relief is welcomed. “That was fucking beautiful.”
“It was,” I whisper, staring at Tomás, feeling every emotion under the sun. Gratitude above all, but the part Tomás mentioned about living within the consequences has me. No one knows more than I do the levels my dad will stoop to when he feels he’s been wronged.
I know Tomás doesn’t care about the firm signing my dad on as a client. But I also know what he wanted to discuss with my dad when it came to the abandoned field. And now that opportunity is ruined, and I can’t help but to feel it’s my fault.
Tomás may say it’s not, but after years of being told everything is my fault, it’s not so easy to unlearn or stop believing that.
Emotionless, my dad glares at me, not bothering to look at Tomás. “If this is how it’s going to be and you leave here with this disrespectful piece of shit, I hope you know that when I die you won’t get a fucking dime of my money. I hope he’s worth it,” he sneers.
“More than you’ll ever know,” I say, no longer holding back my tears.