30. Addie
Chapter thirty
Addie
Ever since that fateful morning in the parking lot of that dingy warehouse, I’ve felt a sense of peace and security.
Adding to that are the little texts he sends me throughout the day, like: “Never forget. You’re mine, and I’m yours. xoxo, Hayden,” or “No matter what happens, we’re in this together. I got you.”
Now, none of that changes or mends the fact that Luna is still completely in the dark about who her real father is. But I’m hoping to get that cleared up very soon. And as far as the therapist he sprung on me goes, I am going to be looking to him for guidance on that front. We can’t get this wrong. It isn’t an option.
Moreover, my recent dalliance with Hayden also doesn’t alter the fact that I have an established life, with or without him in it, that I need to keep living. That means waking up at the crack of dawn to get Luna up and ready for bed, dropping her off at school, and just being an attentive mother to an outgoing, energetic, 7-year-old girl.
But once mommy duty is over, at least for the time-being, I wave Luna off as she walks into the brick building and then call Randall up right away.
“Hello?” His voice sounds sleepy. Although, it’s not like I can blame him. I only have one child, and I can’t imagine how frustrating and time-consuming all of his kids must be.
“Hello. This is Addie—Addie Flores.”
“No, I know. Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting your call.”
“So sorry about that. Is this a bad time? I can try you again later.” I want to be as polite as possible because I’m genuinely a little surprised that he’s still taking mine or Hayden’s calls at this point.
After a prolonged pause, he says, “Nah. That’s okay. This is fine. What’s up?”
Mustering up all the courage I have in my body, I respond, “If you’re up for it, I’d love to have a meeting. Just the two of us. You can come over to my place if that works for you.”
“Oh, um.” He continues to stammer a bit, but then he ultimately agrees. “What time?”
I look at the clock and see that it’s almost eight.
“What about noon? I’ll have some subs or something else waiting for lunch.”
“That sounds great.”
“Wonderful. Any diet restrictions I should be aware of?”
“Well, it is Friday.”
Suddenly, a memory pops into my brain. It’s of my abuelo taking me out for a fish fry at his local greasy spoon restaurant.
Not being a particular fan as a kid, I picked at it with my fork and asked why I couldn’t have a cheeseburger or something else like it.
After wiping tartar sauce from his mustache, he explains, “Because mi amada nieta ,” that’s ‘my beloved granddaughter’ in Spanish, “Jesus was a warm-blooded man. So, on this day, every Viernes ,” aka ‘Friday,’ “we pay our respects to him by abstaining from warm-blooded food.”
“So, fish are cold-blooded?” I ask.
“Exactly. Some Christians only observe this on Good Friday or during lent. But us, the true believers? We do it every week.”
“Okay . . .” Cautiously, I brought some of the fried fish to my mouth, and it turned out that I actually liked it.
But I didn’t keep up with his tradition, needless to say.
The recollection brought a smile to my face, and it also gave me a great idea about where to take Randall—a devout Christian himself.
***
“Tuna is okay, right?” I inquire after he walks into the manor.
“Absolutely. Thank you for being so hospitable.”
“No problem. You know, my grandfather observed the exact same practice when I was growing up.”
He has his sub-sandwich in his hands, and his eyebrow tents up. “Is that so?”
“Yep. In order to honor Jesus, he abstained from eating warm-blooded animals on Fridays.”
“Good man.” He raises his food up as if to “cheers,” and then brings it to his lips.
“That he was.” Again, I don’t uphold that same practice, but I also devour the smelly fish out of respect for him and my abuelo .
Note to self, this could be a way to keep his memory alive in Luna’s life. We might not believe the whole religious aspect behind it, but that doesn’t mean we still can’t participate in the ritual. Besides, sushi counts.
When we’re finished with our meals, I ask him if he’d care to join me on a little adventure. “We won’t leave the grounds, don’t worry.”
“Well, I suppose that would be alright.”
Perfect.
On the way out to our moss and vine-covered chapel, I ask him about Claire, his wife. I know she is a neutral topic that will keep things nice and light between us.
“She’s doing great. Thank you for asking.”
“Of course.” While he might not be my favorite person in the world, I did take a liking to her. Well, before all the subtle slut-shaming, that is. “How’s her morning sickness?”
He clicks his tongue. “It still bothers her from time to time, but it seems to be getting better.”
“Oh, good. I’m glad.”
“Indeed,” he says with a nod.
“And the kids? They’re doing alright?”
“Oh, yeah. Growing like weeds.”
“I hear that.”
Finally, when we come upon the chapel, he understandably looks a bit confused. “What is this place?”
“I’m glad you asked.” There’s a plain, metal cross near the entrance, which my abuelo was rumored to have carried with him on his journey to America from Nicaragua, and I pull away the weeds to reveal it.
“Ah.” After that, Randall seems pleasantly surprised.
“ La Capilla de Flores, ” I read the rusted sign for him.
“And capilla means?”
“Chapel. This is our family’s chapel.”
“Wow. That sure is impressive.”
“Thank you. You’ll have to forgive me; I haven’t been in here in years.” It takes a little more time, but I finally manage to clear enough debris away from the door for us to squeeze inside.
It’s one of those days when it’s simultaneously cloudy and sunny. So once we're in, faint beams of light shine in from the windows on either side of the building.
“Wow,” Randall marvels. “It’s truly spectacular.”
Somehow, the altar remained relatively unharmed, and the large cross with Jesus hanging from it, appears almost like new, save from a few cobwebs.
While that subject is in my mind, I recall another memory.
“Do you know why we Catholics like to display Jesus on the cross, mi nieta ?” I remember Abuelo saying while looking up at the exact same crucifix.
“No, why?”
“Because we like to emphasize the sacrifice he made through his crucifixion.”
It all seemed a little gnarly to me, but his word was my bond, especially when I was a small child. So I just went along with almost everything that came out of his mouth.
“Whereas,” he continued, “the Protestants prefer to hang the empty cross, like the one by the door that I hid in my satchel all the way from Nicaragua.”
“So, what does the empty one symbolize?”
“I’m so happy you asked. It centers around the hope that was granted to us Christians after Jesus died.”
“Ohhh.”
Coming back to the present, I take a seat on the front pew while I watch Randall dip to his knees and pray.
“Thank you so much for bringing me here. If it isn’t too much to ask, would it be okay if I shared this with my older children? I think they’d really love it.”
“Sure.” It’s not like I got a lot of use out of it. However, I also made a mental note to get it evaluated for safety before that happened. I probably should’ve thought to do that before we even stepped in, but oh well. Hindsight is twenty-twenty.
When he raises to his feet, I motion for him to sit next to me. He does, and then I say, “In the spirit of transparency and the good Christian will . . .”
“Uh-huh.” He squints his eyes and focuses on something over my shoulder.
“There’s something I haven’t—well, we haven’t—been completely honest with you about.”
“Okay?” I grab his attention again.
“It’s about Luna.” I feel a goose-egg-sized ball of emotion in my throat, but I do my best to push it down. “As you already know, she is my daughter. Hayden is her father.”
“Right?”
“Well, we did conceive her before wedlock, that’s all true. But we lied when we told you that we ever made good on the relationship. We’ve never been married. Not even close. In fact, he was absent for most of her life, and he is only now just getting to know her for the first time.”
He shuffles in his seat and looks down at his hands before muttering, “I see.”
“I’m so sorry that we lied to you. It wasn’t fair. But I thought it was the only way we could get you to agree to sell to us and build my grandfather’s dream hotel.”
“But you and Hayden do have a past together, clearly.”
“Well, yes. We met when we were kids. I was immediately struck by his sad eyes, and I would always make it a point to go play with him when I was over at Abuelo’s . His parents used to live right there.” I point in the direction of their house. “Then, as we got older, our friendship turned into something more and—”
“And your daughter came to be.”
“Exactly. But that’s something else I want you to understand. When I was a pregnant teenager, my mother capitalized on that opportunity to scorn and abandon me. I think it was the very thing she was waiting for to kick me out of the family.”
“Well, that clearly didn’t work. You’re still here now. Even after all of these years.”
“Maybe, right now. But things weren’t always sunshine and roses. Except, that’s where my abuelo came in. I think he was disappointed in the predicament I found myself in at first, and he stood idly by. I lost my trust fund and had to sell my jewelry and designer clothes to afford the bare minimum in a new city. However, he later found me, apologized for his behavior and my mother’s, and he prayed for Luna and me.”
“I see.”
“You see, Randall, I lost my faith after all of that happened to me. I mean, how could I believe in a God who would hand me to such a cruel and unloving family? But my abuelo was what I called a ‘real believer,’ and I know that you are too, sir.”
He crosses his arms and nods.
“That’s why I want to do this project. To uphold his memory.”
After taking a moment, he finally responds, “Thank you for telling me all of this. It certainly helps put things into perspective.”
“That’s all I was hoping for. Before you make a final decision, I wanted to make sure that you knew the whole truth about the people you would be selling to. You see, Randall. We’re all flawed because we’re human. We aren’t Jesus Christ.”
With that, I kiss my fingers, hold them up to the cross, and then leave him to stew in his thoughts.