Chapter 3
Nate
It’s Sunday. Church day. It feels good to be here.
It’s been a few weeks since the divorce.
And the ache doesn’t ease just because it’s Sunday.
But this—church, worship, the kids beside me—this is the one hour a week that feels close to wholeness.
Sunlight pours in through the windows up high.
It makes this large room feel brighter. It’s not a typical ‘church’ setting.
It’s more like a room big enough for a small conference or event, set up for church.
Bea sits next to me, doodling on the church bulletin, while Daniel swings his legs and hums to the song that’s playing during the offering moment.
I quickly glance over to Bea, sitting next to me. Her scowls today keep prodding at my tendency to overthink.
Is she upset that she’s not staying overnight tonight? What could she be thinking about?
I hook an arm around her and she moves closer to me. A breath whooshes out of me and I breathe a little easier. I’m definitely overthinking. It feels like that’s all I do these days, especially with the kids. Always overanalyzing, always second-guessing.
The service has just wrapped up, and the kids start to play nearby, when the woman next to me grabs my arm.
“Nate, I just thought I’d check in on you. How are you doing?”
Flavia. A woman that regularly comes to this church. Is it just me or was that grip on my bicep a little too… flirty? Something about her tone and body language gives that sort of vibe.
“I’m doing good, thanks Flavia. How are you?” I answer nonchalantly.
She touches my forearm this time. “I’m doing good! What are you up to after church today?”
She’s batting eyelashes at me. It’s subtle… but I take a step away from her. There’s nothing wrong with her, I’m just not interested. I want to be polite about it.
“I’m dropping the kids off, then going home.”
I see John making a beeline towards me. Phew.
“Nate!” He greets me, clapping me on the back.
“John, how’s it going?”
“It’s going well,” he says as he turns to Flavia. “It’s good to see you, Flavia!”
They chat back and forth, and I turn to look at my little kids playing as my mind begins to drift.
It’s always good to be in church. It refreshes my soul, especially after the last few weeks.
But it also helps that my kids are with me.
My heart shatters when they leave. When they’re here, I’m just trying to glue the pieces back together again.
I don’t know if that’ll ever go away. I miss them so much, the ache is too real.
I’m having to adjust to a new reality where I don’t see them every day.
Flavia says goodbye, and I tune back in as I see John turning back to me.
“Thanks for the save. I see what you did there,” I chuckle.
He laughs. “I have your back. I could see it a mile away. What have you and the kids been up to this weekend?” he asks.
“I just took Daniel and Bea around the shopping mall. We grabbed some lunch while we were there, and then we went to the pool after.”
“That’s great. They seem like they’re doing well?” he asks, raising his brow. The kids are busy playing with each other and talking so I’m not worried about them overhearing.
“I think they’re as well as they can be. Bea’s taking it the hardest. I never know what she’s hearing at home… but every time I pick her up, there’s a wall between us I have to chip away at first.”
John sighs. “I’m sure you’re finding that challenging.”
I run a hand through my hair. “Yeah. But it always comes down, and she’s back to being my little girl. I think she’s just hurt. Every time I drop her off, she hugs me so tightly like she never wants to let go.”
“It’ll get easier. It’s so fresh,” he says as we both watch the children play.
“I hope so. How are things with you and Maria?” I ask, glad for the chance to steer things into lighter waters.
It’s not that I want to avoid these conversations entirely, especially not with John… but I do want to avoid these conversations for now. My heart feels miserable and I need hope and joy infused back into it.
“Maria is doing great. She’s been baking a lot recently.”
I blow out a breath. “If her baking is as good as her cooking, you’re going to gain a lot of weight, my friend.”
He laughs. “Have you not noticed me already gaining weight? It’s not my fault she creates food that makes me double up on portions.”
“Or sneaking in some midnight snacks?” I chuckle.
“There’s no midnight snacks. They’re gone way before that,” he deadpans.
I laugh. “Well, you better start up one of those fitness regimes if she’s going to start making brigadeiros.” Those chocolate condensed milk truffles are the nation’s favorite. They’re everywhere and are pretty irresistible.
“I think I just might have to!”
We continue chatting for a little while, before I signal to Daniel and Bea that it’s time to get going. I have to drop them off at their mom’s house today after church. I could’ve let their grandfather take them home—he goes to the same church—but I won’t give up a single extra minute with them.
I lead them into the car, and make sure they’re strapped in. The drive to their mother’s new house isn’t long, and I’m never far from them. It makes me feel a little better at least.
We arrive at Iris's house too quickly after putting on some fun music in the car.
I hop out of the car as they climb out behind me.
“Daniel, make sure you do your school studies this week. Got it?”
“Got it, dad. I’ll make you proud.”
I don’t have to tell him he already makes me proud. Even if he’s a little mischievous at times—especially lately—I’m choosing to be a bit more lenient. Even if ‘lenient’ isn’t really in my vocabulary when it comes to teaching my kids right. I give him a big hug.
“Bea, come give me a hug.”
She comes and wraps her entire self around me. Like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she doesn’t hold on hard enough.
“I love you, baby girl.”
I hear a muffled, “I love you too, daddy.”
Bea pulls away slower than usual. Her eyes are shining, but she blinks fast, trying to hide it.
I clear my throat and slap on a smile. If I cry every time I drop them off, I’ll never stop.
Once she comes down, I send them off inside as the housekeeper opens the door.
I wave goodbye to them and make the drive home.
I take the scenic route home, where the buildings are on my right and the ocean’s on my left.
The sun has set, but the horizon has the tinge of deep purple, pink, and blue.
As if it’s getting ready for sleep, getting tucked in, ready to shut the lights off.
I have the window down, and the breeze on this balmy night is welcoming.
It washes over me. People are walking down the promenade, getting ready to go to dinner or home after their beach day.
I make a turn towards my building, and park in the basement garage in my allocated spot.
The moment I step into my apartment, loneliness crashes over me like a wave.
I toss my keys onto the table and let the quiet settle over my shoulders like a coat I never asked to wear.
The walls feel wider when I’m alone. Echoey.
Hollow. Like they miss the noise too. I move toward my bedroom, finding my closet at the back as I walk through the door.
I decide to get ready for bed, as I’m exhausted from the day—emotionally, and physically.
I jump into the shower and try to wash off my worries with the water. It never really works. As I jump out of the shower, I decide to take some time to read my Bible and spend some time in prayer. Lord knows I need it tonight with this weight currently sitting on my shoulders.
I move towards the windows to close the curtains.
The apartment has lots of windows, overlooking the beautiful city.
It’s pitch black now. The sky has lit up with the lights of people settling in their homes for the night, restaurants on the promenade hosting people.
I move towards my desk, turn on the desk lamp, and take my Bible out of the drawer.
As I’m reading and praying, I think about what I want my future to look like. My mind has been so focused on the kids recently, I haven’t given it much room for anything else. But I still want a different future.
I know I’m not going to camp here forever. I know life will change. It’s going to get easier. But I’m still hoping I won’t live life alone. I don’t want to jump into anything quickly, either—I’ve got my kids to think about. I want a future with a woman who will love me and love God.
And that’s when I hear a whisper.
Take out a piece of paper and a pencil. What do you want in a woman?
Did I hear that right? That must just be my mind. I’ll just sit quietly for—
Write out a list.
I blink. Okay, that was… clear.
Sometimes it’s hard to know whether it’s God or my mind speaking. But that felt solid.
I take out a pencil and paper and sit for a minute.
What do I want? Immediately some traits come into my mind.
Ten or more years younger. Loves God. Confident.
Somehow, it’s not hard to think up what my dream woman looks like.
I start writing. Maybe I’m not writing from my head. Maybe I’m writing from a deeper place.
After I write everything out—all the traits I’m longing for—I close in prayer.
“Okay, God. There she is. The woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.”
Time to tuck it away into my wallet.
I don’t know what God is going to do. But I’m ready to keep my eyes, my heart, and my hands open.