Chapter 54
Pen
"Dad. Are you okay?" I press my lips together. "Should we check your blood pressure?"
We're at the table. I had them sit down with a cup of tea. The hope was it would make the news easier to swallow.
He stares at me with wide eyes. Mom glances at me, then puts a hand on his face.
"Sergio? It's just a video," she says. "You remember how young people are."
"I remember, but—"
I look up at the ceiling and pretend my brain is not jumping to conclusions, about how the two of them may have been decades ago.
"Dad. I found the video. It's not that bad."
Not that I liked watching it, or that it exists, but it's not as bad as my anxious brain was making it.
"If someone comes to bug you about it," Mom says, "tú los mandas a la mierda y ya."
She scowls like it would be their fault.
I'm crossing my fingers we can get rid of the video, of course. At the end of the day, what I need to do is talk to Bear, not deal with this situation.
I laugh. "Let's hope no one has the gall to bug Dad about it, so he doesn't have to send anyone to hell."
"No, no, I'll send them to hell." Dad frowns. "Que coman mierda. I wish you hadn't— you know. But sharing the video is not on your guys' heads. That was someone else's choice."
I put a hand on his arm. "That's true, but it will still get us in trouble, and I don't want it stressing you out."
He gazes at me and his face changes. It softens. His eyes gain warmth, until a watery line appears on his bottom eyelid.
"Oh, hija. I know you'll be okay. You're not alone. Your husband's got you now."
As patriarchal as that sounds, I take it the same way I always do. He wants to see me happy, no matter what happens to him. It's what my dad has always wanted. To know I have a partner who will support me and stand by me during challenging situations.
I shake my head, but the gesture comes with full affection. "Bear has always gotten me. Even before we got married."
"I know, but it helps to know you love each other like this too. So let me think about it that way for a little longer, okay?"
I take in a shaky breath. That's a lovely wish I share, but I may not have a long time with it. The moment Leon makes it home and we talk, this will go one of two ways.
He will tell me he can see himself being happy with me as I am, with what we have, regardless of what he's wanted for himself from the start.
He will tell me he can't see himself being fully happy with me as I am, with what we have, so we'll choose friendship instead, because I was right.
Or that's what I keep telling myself because, this way, he'll stay with me somehow.
"Okay," I say in a thin voice.
That's all I manage, when a series of loud, unexpected noises reach us.
Bangs and outdoorsy sounds come from the yard. The three of us get up and dart to the kitchen window.
It's a sunny day. A breeze moves through the trees and greenery— or the plants are frightened and shake in the soil, because Bear has taken a shovel to them.
The little garden shed at the back is wide open, having been invaded by my husband. He does good work of digging the red buds out intact, and puts them on a bucket to the side. Two seconds later, he's back at shoveling dirt into a small hill on the flower bed.
I watch him agape.
My mom stares at me and chuckles. "Go out there before he destroys my garden trying to get to that capsule."
"I— Bear—" I stutter.
"Good luck," Mom adds. "Come, Sergio. Let's give them space. We can have ice cream and coffee at that place you like."
"Are you going to be okay?" Dad asks.
Leon seems focused on his goal. I'm finally recovering from the shock. I blink a few times, but eventually glance at my parents.
I nod. "Go have ice cream and coffee."
I kiss him on the cheek and let them go. Then I turn back and go out to the yard, and watch Bear from the back door landing. He throws the shovel to the side and falls to his knees. He digs out the old plastic-wrapped metal box and puts it on his lap.
"We won't be thirty for another couple of months," I say.
Watching him gave me enough time to find some amount of calm inside of me. Or at least, to find a way to pretend I do.
He swipes some of the dirt out from the bag. "We never made a big deal of birthdays anyway."
I cross the yard and sit on the swing. Bear rips the bags apart, and frees the old metal box. The years have rusted the edges, and the paint is faded and off in some places, but it mostly looks like what I remember.
Bear opens the box and rumages through it. He finds his letter— the one he addressed to me, more than a decade ago. He keeps it in his hand, sits his ass on the grass, and leaves the box to the side.
He turns to stare up at me on the swing. His eyes are clear, bluer than most days, out here in the sunlight. Thoughts run through his mind, evident in the little wrinkles on his forehead.
At first he doesn't speak. I watch him back, nerves prickling my belly. I bite my bottom lip.
He takes a deep breath. "Are your parents around?"
"No. They went out to give us space."
His nod is slow. He takes the time to study me some more. In a corner of my mind, I think back to one night more than ten years ago, when we spent time out here in the dark. With my heart broken, and his kind soul wanting to help me feel better. So different from today, in so many ways.
This time it's a bright summer day, but I'm still on the swing, wondering if there's a way I'll finally believe that romance could happen for me.
Not with just a random guy I thought was somewhat cute, but with my best friend.
The same one who gave me my first kiss. Someone I can't imagine living without.
He offers me the letter. "Read this, please."
I find it hard to breathe, but I take the yellowed envelope from him. I open it and read, my heart in my throat.