32. October 7th
Rafael
When I get to the office Monday morning, I’m no less at ease than I have been all weekend. Angie didn’t come home last night like I was hoping. She sent me a text a couple hours after I hung up with my father saying she was going to stay a few more nights at Cora’s.
After typing out and deleting several drafts, I reluctantly settled on:
Ok. I’m ready to talk when you are.
And yeah, I wanted to hug her after sending it, and in turn, made me upset realizing hugs might be coming to an end. If I’m honest with myself, I know I’d want to add a kiss to the top of her crown and maybe get a little whiff of her shampoo while I’m at it.
God, I miss her.
I’m trying to play it cool at work, but I’m dying to talk to Cora and Jay. I’m sure they know everything, and I would do anything to hear the smallest scrap of intel.
I only make it to 11:00 am before I’m knocking on her open office door.
“Hey, Raf,” Cora says casually, like she doesn’t hold all the secrets. Wordlessly, I close the door behind me and let the meaning sink in. “Okay,” she says with a wan smile making me feel infinitely worse.
We both take a seat on her mauve designer sofa, and I ask, “How is she?”
“She’s not great,” she sighs.
“Is she eating? Sleeping? How’s her heartburn? Did she take the Tums I sent?”
“She’s been eating, but not much. She’s been using the pregnancy pillow and taking the Tums you brought over.”
“She’s not eating much? Does she want something different to eat? I can bring it to her—”
“Raf.”
“Or I can have it delivered.”
“Raf,” Cora says again. “You know she’s not eating much because she’s sad.”
“How sad?” I ask, and like a sickness, the tension grows at her lack of answer.
“She went to The Shore by herself yesterday,” she exhales with a knowing look, and I nod as the weight of Cora’s words fall upon me.
If Angie is going to the water, she’s seeking comfort and answers. She’s seeking peace. I hate myself for being the reason she’s in this head space and I’m worried for her—the stress she’s carrying isn’t good for her or the babies.
“What can I do, Cora? I feel helpless. All I want to do is take her hurt away.”
“You want to protect her?” Cora asks.
“Of course.”
“You want to hold her right now, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I reply without reservation.
“And would that make you feel better or her?”
I look down at my hands before answering. “Me. But what can I do? I have to fix this, Cora.”
“You have no idea what fixing this means, do you?” she asks, but it’s more like she’s saying it to herself. I shake my head. “Ugh, I love you both, but you’re idiots.”
Just then a buzz comes through and it’s a text from my brother reminding me to sign some documents for our realtor. It only takes a second to read, but I don’t reply.
“Why do you work so hard, Rafael?” my boss asks.
“Because I always have,” I reply honestly. “Everyone in my family does. I don’t know. We were born to.”
“What would happen if you didn’t work tirelessly?”
The words don’t come, but emotion does. Pain lances through me at the thought of disappointing my father. I think about not working as hard and all the resulting mistakes—about the effort it would take to make up for them—and I’m exhausted at the thought alone.
Cora raises her eyebrows waiting for my response. She’s not my boss right now. She’s my friend.
What would happen if I didn’t work tirelessly?
And for the first time I say the frightening words aloud. “My dad might think less of me.”
Cora sighs. “You look up to him,” she states, quietly understanding. All I can do is nod. “Do you think he would love you less?”
“Without a doubt,” I tell her. I work hard, but I work harder for his love. God, what would it even be like to have it all the time—without the effort? Freeing. My body sighs in relief at the thought. But it’s never been a possibility. The moments he shows his love are fleeting.
“I’m sorry,” Cora says. “I know there’s more inside you. You want to know what you can do? You wanna know what would show Angie a little bit of faith?”
“Yes. Please,” I beg.
“Go to therapy,” she says slowly. “Whether you guys stay friends or—I don’t know—going to therapy will show her you’re serious about the health of yourself and your relationship, whatever form it takes. That will make her feel better.”
“Really?”
“She’s scared about what this means for the stability of your future family. If she knows you’re serious about making this work, that will put her at ease,” Cora says with a soft smile. “And maybe there’s some other things you need to unpack.”
“What?”
“Just…talk to someone, okay?”
My need to please and goal-setting brain shake hands without another thought. “I’ll start researching today and book something right away.”
“Seriously?” Cora asks with a skeptical look, then adds under her breath, “That was easy.”
So what if I’m desperate—I don’t care. All I want is for the people I care about and my babies to be happy, and once they are, I will be too.