Chapter 43
I FEEL LIKE I ’M ON A CONVEYOR BELT. M OVING ALONG, DOING what I need to do without putting up a fight. I find ángel, Santiago, Camila, and René at the fire pit. I’m leaving early tomorrow morning, so I need to say goodbye and thank them for everything. What I want to do is slip away quietly into oblivion, but being social and polite is part of the job.
René’s the closest, but I start with Camila. I get a perfectly cordial hug from her and a kiss on each cheek from Santiago. ángel makes me promise to let him know if there’s anything I need for the behind-the-scenes. When I get to René, he stands, hugs me briefly, and says something near my ear I don’t quite register. Suerte? Cuidate? Good luck or take care.
“Thanks, you too. And hey, you can… let ángel know if there’s anything you don’t want us to use from the interview.” I hadn’t planned to say this, but I want to give him the chance to change his mind. “What you said about Natalia, for example.”
He looks into my eyes and takes a deep breath. “Do whatever you want with it.”
I nod a couple of times and try to seem breezy as I walk away, the pebbled path crunching loudly beneath my feet.
After a long, much-needed embrace by the car at airport arrivals, Meri spits out a series of fun-loving updates, catching me up on the happenings at home. Mom’s a redhead again, don’t ask why Benny Moré has a limp, oh, and the duck is gone.
“What do you mean, ‘the duck is gone’?” I throw my suitcase in the trunk of the car.
“Mom released him.” Meri eyes me suspiciously as I take the passenger seat. “Is that my dress?”
“Yes. Why?”
She looks doubtful. Like she can’t believe I’m wearing it. “Nothing, I love it on you.” She grins affectionately.
“Where did she release him? Did she take him to the lake?”
Meri turns to me, probably to be sure I’m being serious.
“I think so. Why?”
“There are some gators in that lake. Do you know if it was in the morning or at night?”
“I don’t know!”
I look out the window and try hard not to envision an alligator swallowing Baby whole the moment Mom turned around. He was in our care for two months. He probably forgot how to forage or behave around other ducks. What if they no longer want him around? I’m certain Baby will either be eaten by a gator, starve to death, or die of loneliness.
“So?” Meri glances at me. “What happened with René?” She seems to be holding in a scream of excitement.
“Nothing.” I harden my face. “I mean, we had a really good time, but nothing came of it, obviously. Which is totally fine by me. It was just a one-time thing.”
Her face scrunches up, confused. “What happened?”
“Nothing. Just like I knew it would. It’s all good. It’s fine.” I throw a hand in the air. “In fact, I think that’s why I was so comfortable around him. That’s why I had such a good time. Because I knew it was just an in-the-moment thing. It’s fine.”
“The more you say, ‘It’s fine,’ the less I believe you.”
I shrug. “Whatever. He agrees, we’re on the same page.”
Meri’s eyes narrow. “Did he actually say that?”
“Not exactly. Not with those words.”
“What words did he use?”
I exhale loudly. “I don’t remember.” I’m unable to mask the shift in my tone to something more irritated. “I’m sorry, I really don’t want to talk about it right now.”
I desperately want us to start being more honest with each other, but I physically can’t say another word about René. I just want to get home and clean the grill or pull the weeds between the pavers. Thankfully, I have the weekend before I have to go back to work. Before I’m forced to relive it all by reviewing the footage from the past few weeks. For the next two days, I need everything to be as it was.
We pull into the driveway, and for an instant, what I need flies out the window. Literally. The new windows have completely altered the look of our home. I mean, they’re sturdier-looking, for sure. But they’re more modern than what was there before and the house has lost some of its quirky personality. It takes me a second to get used to them, and to recognize our home again, behind the blooming flamboyant tree in the front yard.
I drop the bags by the door and follow Meri to her room. It’s as though her closet and large dressers have spit up all at once. Tops, skirts, accessories, handbags, everything she owns is either on the bed or arranged into small piles on the floor.
“You’re purging,” I say excitedly, gently pushing a mound of colorful earrings out of the way so I can sit on the bed.
“Sort of. I want to move the furniture around and they’re easier to move without anything in them. But look, that pile is for donation.” She beams, knowing I’d be proud of her. I see where she’s pointed and find the smallest pile of the bunch. I’m not sure I’d even call it a pile. It’s a faded leather handbag with a purple bra on top.
“So, how are you feeling?” I ask carefully.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she says, standing in front of the tallest dresser, “but I’m not changing my mind about nursing.”
She pulls a drawer out and dumps it all on the bed. Inside are all items that should not have been living side by side. A workout bra, thongs, belts, sunglasses, and a large bottle of hairspray.
“That’s not what I’m thinking.”
“I’m sorry.” She glances at me, and the look in her eyes is so sincere, it makes me melt. “Believe me, I tried.”
“I know you did. I just wish you hadn’t forced it for so long if that’s how you were feeling.”
“It was, I don’t know. You’ve always done so much for me, I just…” She trails off, unable to finish her thought.
“You thought you had to pay me back by studying something I’d approve of?”
“I know you never said that. It just felt that way.”
As Meri disappears behind the bed to grab another drawer, I feel slightly defensive. Then again, all those times when I thought about telling her to quit and try something else, something always held me back. Nursing was safe and steady. I had convinced myself I was just being supportive, but deep down it was what I wanted for her.
The sound of Meri laughing brings me back to the present. She’s holding a small eyeglass repair kit. “You know when you’re looking for something, you never find it? Do you know how many of these I have now?” She tosses the kit on the donation pile, pushes a tall dresser over a few feet, and takes a few steps back to admire it. There’s something different about her. She seems lighter, more enthusiastic. For one, she’s genuinely enjoying making this mess. Perfectly content to sleep in it if she has to, until she figures out where she really wants things to go.
I head to the kitchen and stop to admire the large window in the dining room. There’s a pup on his bed and a cat in her tree enjoying the warmth of it. I scan the house, not finding anything that needs doing. It’s strange, Mom not being here. She’ll be home later from an overnight trip to Palm Beach with her new boyfriend. I imagine this is what a parent must feel when their kid goes away to college. Missing them, while at the same time knowing it’s what’s best for them. And for you.
Standing in front of the kitchen sink, I’m transfixed on what must be Mom’s latest floral creation on the windowsill. I pick it up in awe of her talents. It’s a small cat made entirely out of daisies and other flowers sitting in a wicker basket. It has delicate snapdragons for whiskers, and she’s added felt triangles for ears and small googly eyes on a sunflower. It’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.
I place it carefully back on the shelf and notice a few smudges on the new kitchen window. I grab the stepladder and the window cleaner from under the sink and get to work. I spritz generously, satisfied to have something to do. After I’ve wiped off the smudges, I put everything away and I’m almost out of the kitchen when I turn back to admire my handiwork.
What I expect to see is a sparkly, clear window. Instead, the only thing I notice is I’ve missed a pretty big smudge near the top. Probably because it’s behind one of the three glass pendant lamps that hang over the sink. Back on the stepladder, I spray and wipe again, but the window cleaner doesn’t get it out. It’s less of a smudge and more like tape or glue residue or something. I find the retractable knife in the miscellaneous drawer, get back on the stepladder, and delicately scrape it all away. Feeling lighter, I step off the ladder, and the knife taps against one of the lamps as I pull away.
The glass pendant falls and shatters into pieces. I’m stunned. I mean I barely tapped it with the knife. That glass shade must have been hanging on for dear life to have fallen so easily. There’s broken glass everywhere. In the sink, on the counter, on the floor. And Mom’s floral cat has fallen headfirst into the sink and come completely undone.
I don’t even know where to start. Everything is so much worse off. There are small shards of glass on so many surfaces. The naked bulb is hanging there next to two lamps, looking disorderly. I’ll need to buy a whole new lamp. The floral cat. My chin starts to quiver and I burst into tears.
I wake up to a blurry redhead sitting next to me on the bed. Her hand is so impossibly soft on my forehead, I think I might still be sleeping. I try again with one eye closed and one open. “Mom?”
She comes into focus and the first thing I do is marvel at her hairdo. Expertly brushed over to one side in a low ponytail. Glamorous yet unwavering, like a contestant on Dancing with the Stars .
“I’m so sorry about the lamp. And the cat.”
“Did you like it?”
“The floral cat? It was beautiful… before I decapitated it.”
She chuckles and pushes a strand of hair away from my face. “Good, because that’s my new business idea,” she announces.
“Oh yeah?”
“I’m going to make arrangements in the shape of people’s pets.” She throws her head back, to punctuate the idea. “They send me a photo and I’ll ship them a floral bouquet that looks like their cat or dog.”
“That’s… brilliant.” I can’t help but see all the potential problems. Has she considered what it would cost to ship fresh floral arrangements? The cost of packaging? What defining features of someone’s beloved pet will she really be able to capture with carnations? But instead I say, “People love their pets and they’re willing to do anything for them.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” She squeezes my arm. “I could start in Miami, so I can deliver the arrangements myself, obviously. But it’s still a big city, so we’ll see.”
She rests her hand on my forehead and I shut my eyes again. I feel simultaneously better and worse. I’m not sure I can cry again, without replenishing my fluids first. Earlier, I threw myself on the bed and cried so hard and for so long, I gave myself a headache.
Low, guttural howls came from somewhere deep inside. And when they’d subside, I’d see René again. Standing by the fire pit when we said goodbye. And I’d get right back to the business of howling.
After a while, the pain loosened its grip and I started to laugh. Grateful to be feeling anything at all. I think I’d stopped believing I had the potential for this kind of pain in me. It would come and go in waves like: Yeah! I’m alive. Oh, but it hurts so bad. Wow, I can feel things! But whoa, it’s painful. The lows were so painfully low, but during the breaths, when I came up for air, I felt almost euphoric. I may have also had a high fever.
“What time is it?” I ask Mom groggily. There aren’t any lamps turned on in the room, but my door is open and light is spilling in from the hallway.
“It’s almost midnight.”
“And you’re just getting home?” It’s my lame attempt to sound like a worried parent.
Mom laughs. “Yes, and?” she asks, playing along.
“Nothing, I’m glad.”
There’s a knock on the door and Meri peeks in. “Hey.” She comes in and sits on the foot of the bed. “Do you want something to eat?”
“No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”
I sit up and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror hanging behind the door. I wipe at the smudged makeup, rest against the headboard, and let out a deep sigh.
“What happened?” Mom asks delicately, and I feel Meri’s hand give my leg a squeeze.
For the briefest of instances, I consider not telling them. Push it all down and carry on. The words come on like a song programmed to automatically play when your alarm goes off. But I can’t push another single thing down.
“René,” I start, and the tears come again. I wipe them with the back of my hand, already exhausted. “I think we really,” I try again, but it hurts too much to say out loud in one go, “connected.” I’ve never cried like this in front of them. Ever . “But I got out before I could get hurt.” My skin seems to tighten, making me feel smaller. “But it hurts anyway.” The tears come again, and Meri gives my leg a squeeze. “So that sucks. I was afraid of being heartbroken, but here I am”—I raise my arms and plop them back on the bed—“broken anyway.” Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I see a grin on Mom’s face. “Are you… smiling?”
“I’m sorry.” Her eyes seem glossy too. “It’s so good to see you like this.”
“Suffering?”
“No,” she says with a laugh. “Well, yes, in a way. I’m proud of you. This is a good sign.” I give her a look like she’s lost her marbles, and I cover my face with my hands. “I always thought you were embarrassed about loving like this. Maybe you thought it was weak or shameful. But it’s brave.”
All I can do is nod. I agree with my mother. I look to Meri for support, but she only nods too. We all finally agree on something.
“He made me,” I begin, needing to say out loud what I’ve been too afraid to admit to myself, “want something for myself.” Mom shoots Meri a look, like she’s not quite following. “What I mean is, I never really cared if I had my own family or my own… anything. I was happy enough the way things were.” The tears begin to flow again. “But he made me wish I had my own life, so I could share it with him.” Mom pats my shoulder. “But how do you do this?” I blubber. “How can you ever trust someone with… all of that?”
“By trusting.” I wait for more, but that’s it. That’s all she’s got to say. I let myself cry. I feel Meri’s hand on my foot and Mom holding my arm with both of her hands. It’s like they’re performing some sort of heartbreak exorcism. And I let them.
When I catch my breath again, I tell them all about hearing Dad’s song and how René took me to almost all the places. I share the photos I took and Mom picks a few she’d like printed out and framed. The island feels far away. I can’t believe I left this morning. I think about how there was one more place in the song we couldn’t find, the dock beneath the sea and shrug at the futility. There will always be things I won’t know about my dad. And I start to cry again.