Chapter 31 #2
Chris keeps talking. “Listen, Nadia is nothing like you. You’re perfect.
She was always arguing with me, challenging everything I said or did.
The whole Peace Corps thing was her idea.
Even that I wasn’t doing right according to her.
I wasn’t a good enough man. I’m sorry it took me a while, but I realize you’re the one for me.
You’re who I need and love. You accept me as I am. For who I am.”
And it would have been nice had he returned the favor.
There’s so much truth to his words and he’s absolutely right.
I didn’t challenge him. I took what he could give me because I didn’t think I deserved any better.
I hovered in the background, worrying someone was going to notice I didn’t belong.
The reasons for that don’t matter now. It only matters I can’t be that woman anymore.
“This is not about me or Nadia. It’s about you.
You’re basically an overgrown frat boy who won’t own up to anything.
Granted, it’s not entirely your fault, because your parents screwed you up.
But you’re old enough to take personal responsibility.
I thought joining the Peace Corps would be good for you until I heard about Nadia.
You didn’t really want to change the world or make it a better place.
What you wanted was someone who would continually remind and reassure you of how wonderful you are. ”
He spreads his palms. “Well…exactly. Isn’t that what love is?”
“I don’t think so, Chris. It’s a two-way street. You never did that for me.”
He slumps. “I get it. I wasn’t good about telling you but I showed you. You know words are not my thing. That’s your thing. We’re opposites and we do a good job of complementing each other.”
“Yeah? What’s my favorite flower?”
“Roses. That’s why I sent them.” He leans back and smiles with a satisfied look.
“Wrong. I love and have always loved daffodils. Yellow ones.”
He’s lost his confidence, leaning forward and squinting. “Daffodils? Which ones are those?”
I cover my eyes. “Geez. I used to bring them home from Trader Joe’s every season. Put them right on the kitchen table as centerpieces. The next day they’d bloom, their little faces opening up.”
He squints. “Daffodils? Nobody likes daffodils. Every girl likes roses.”
There he goes, doubling down again. Telling me what I like. He even says it louder, like that will help. Chris wants to believe all women prefer roses because it makes his life as a man simpler. If all women like the same thing, there’s little effort on his part to engage the memory.
“Not every girl. Not me.”
“Well, so what, I got one thing wrong.” He reaches for my hand, rubs my thumb. “But I know you, babe. I know what you like and where it matters. Right?”
He’s talking about sex again, and I don’t want to go there.
It has never been as great as he believes.
Not surprisingly, I faked it most of the time, so he’d feel good about himself.
Even now I don’t have the heart to tell him the truth because he did try so very hard.
It wasn’t through lack of effort, let’s put it that way.
I’m pretty sure Ryan didn’t even try and one kiss sent me spinning out of orbit.
My choice is next.
In the end, it isn’t his flaws that make my decision. It’s the knowledge that I don’t love him anymore. Maybe I did at one time, but mostly, I loved the idea of loving him.
And that’s not enough.
Chris takes it well. There’s no more crying.
No more begging. Just an overall sadness and resignation and this is something we both share.
We couldn’t make “us” work, but on the other hand, we’re not all that different from the rest of the population.
The difference is we are acknowledging it. We are moving on.
I’m proud of us for that.
Either Chris realizes I’m right, or he’s already making plans to call Nadia.
In any case, it doesn’t concern me. I applaud this decision.
I’ve always wanted to be part of a couple, that symbiotic relationship that I’ve coveted for so long in the books I’ve treasured.
In the memories I had of my parents kissing, and dancing in the kitchen.
But now I’m thinking about Eddie and how happy he’s been all these years without anyone special.
I think your father was the love of my life, he said.
I haven’t realized the beauty in those words until now.
There can be many great loves in our lives, and they’re not all romantic ones.
My mother has been lucky to have two great loves in her life.
As for me, I need to be alone for now. So, I didn’t find love like in the stories I create and read.
Someday. Never say never. I’m not likely to give up, but I might redefine true love.
I don’t know what it looks like yet, but I have a feeling I’ll know when I see it.
True love will be selfless, of that I’m sure.
Both people will be on even footing and it won’t be a one-way street.
Either way, I can’t wait to tell Ryan.
On Sunday, Eddie throws another impromptu karaoke party for the family. This time, he tortures us with his “compelling” rendition of Gloria Gaynor’s epic “I Will Survive.”
“At first I was afraid, I was petrified,” he sings directly to my mother.
Abuelita is smiling and I’m sure it’s because she’s wearing earplugs. My tias are elbowing each other and whispering. Two minutes later, Eddie throws back his head, crooning into the microphone like a superstar. My mother is glowing, a woman clearly in love.
“Go, Eddie!” Diego says, then slams his hands over his ears.
By now, the entire family knows Eddie and my mother are a “thing.” No one, apparently, thinks it’s as strange as I did, not even Sofia.
Then again, some of these folks saw Eddie with my mother before she ever married my father.
It wouldn’t seem as odd to them. What might have seemed odd at the time was the way Eddie stepped aside.
That’s what you do for someone you love. I ask myself whether if I loved the same man Sofia did, I’d be able to step aside. There’s no question I would. I’d like to think she’d do the same.
Tonight, she’s brought along her latest love interest, a man with so many tattoos I don’t know what to read first.
“Brett, this is my cousin, Luci. She’s a New York Times bestselling author.” Sofia winks.
“Wow! Really?” Brett’s eyes go wide. “Do you know Meryl Streep?”
“No,” I say patiently. “I don’t think she writes books?”
“Babe, would you go get me some horchata? Abuelita made a good batch.” Sofia points him in the direction of the large pitcher being guarded by Diego’s mother. Once, years ago, he’d spiked it with tequila and she has never gotten over it.
“Does Brett own stock in a tattoo shop?” I say once he’s off.
“Nah, but he works there.”
“That’s not dangerous,” I say, a bit puzzled. She has a type.
Is it possible Sofia is finally getting serious about dating?
“No, but he’s cute and nice. He was so gentle with me when I went in for my tattoo—”
“You have a tattoo? Why don’t I know this?”
Sofia shushes me because her mother is nearby. If she hears Sofia has a tattoo, she will probably convene a novena so everyone can pray for Sofia’s soul.
“Only one.” Sofia holds up a finger. “Had to see what all the fuss was about.”
“Which one did you get?”
She moves closer. “The caduceus symbol, you know the two snakes coiled around a winged staff? I’ll show you later.”
Brett rejoins us not with one but with two glasses of horchata, one of which he offers to me.
I have to say, it’s very considerate of him.
I accept it then excuse myself to go find my abuelita.
Since this whole thing with Eddie and Mami became official, I haven’t checked in with her.
Given that I haven’t heard any loud arguments coming from the main house, I have to assume she’s okay with all this.
I’m sitting next to her for a whole minute before she realizes I’m even there. Then again, Eddie is still singing. I tap her on the shoulder and smile.
She removes an earplug. “Hola, mija.”
I point to Eddie, still serenading my mother, having moved to a love song that is very much out of his vocal range. Diego looks like he might throw up.
I put my arm around her. This woman lost a son, but she’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever known.
“Are you okay with this? Mami and Eddie?”
She nods. “Eddie deserves to be happy. He was always such a good son and an even better brother.”
“I had no idea how good.”
“Family is everything,” she says. “People come and go out of our lives but family remains.”
“You never stopped thinking of Mami as family.” It’s a statement of fact, because when Abuelita brings you into the fold, you’re in for life.
“She’s your mami,” she says, patting my knee, as if this explains everything. “And she has a good heart.”
I glance over at my mother now and realize I’ve never seen her this happy. Not when she was married to Seb, nor at any point after my father died. Maybe I’ve always been too tough on a woman who did the best she could.
“I would have never put those two together,” I admit. “But funny how they somehow fit.”
“Geneva is good for Eddie. Gracias a Dios he’ll have someone now and I won’t worry when I die.”
“Why? Are you dying?”
She laughs. “A little bit every day, mi amor, but that’s life. We are all getting older. Best to enjoy every day and stop making happiness so hard. It’s everywhere if you look. Look at those two. Your papi is smiling down from heaven with love.”
I smile too when I see Eddie kissing my mother’s hand as he finally, thank you Jesus, hands over the microphone to Diego because he’s done.
Like Ryan, the second-chance trope has always been a favorite.
And a second chance at love is alive and well at the Santana house.