Chapter 15
CATARINA
At work on Wednesday, I was so tired I needed an afternoon espresso, so I met up with Pheobe in the cafeteria.
“So you’re literally married,” she said, holding my hand and looking at my ring. “I have to say, that is a crazy Vegas weekend twist I didn’t see coming.”
“Me either,” and then I squinted. “Wait a second. What about you and Chip?”
“We had a good weekend together. I mean, we had to do something since you two ditched us on Saturday night. Also, I’m still a little salty about not getting the invite to your wedding. I’m just going to be upfront.”
“Sorry,” I said, clearing my throat. “It just happened so fast. And we figured this would be, you know, like an informal thing.”
“And then the video went viral.”
“Right.”
“So you’re like a famous person, now. Kinda.”
I waved my hand in the air. “Eh, it’s my fifteen minutes of fame. I’m sure things will die down.”
She laughed. “The story has been running on a loop on E all week.” Squinting, she looked behind me. “Is that guy filming us?”
I turned and saw a college-age looking guy recording us.
“Hey, get lost, buddy!” Pheobe shouted. The man turned red-faced and walked away, quickly.
“Was he seriously just recording me?”
Pheobe shrugged. “Probably for his loser YouTube Channel or something. So anyway now that the camera is gone, I’d like to know the dirty details. Is he moving here?”
“No. We’re going to live separately for now.”
“That won’t be suspicious to immigration?”
“Well, we’re not exactly a traditional couple. He’s a sports star and I’m a doctor.”
“Power couple, yeah! Woohoo!” Pheobe smiled.
“What about you and Chip? Are you going to be following in our footsteps?”
“And getting married in a viral Vegas wedding? Most definitely!”
“Real funny,” I laughed.
“For real though. We’re keeping it super casual. Aren’t you worried about this long distance stuff? It’s tough. Oh, there’s my pager. I gotta run.” She stood up to go, then paused, turning to look at me.
“Cat,” she said. “I’m so damn glad you’re going to be here. I mean, the hospital just would have been a little less bright without you.”
“Thanks,” I said, my heart warming. I’d had similar conversations with several of my patients today.
While the weekend was the most fun I’d had in a long while, I had to power through the last few hours of the evening until I made it home just past nine to collapse into bed. I had been thrown off by the randomness of my schedule over the past few days.
Although it was good fun.
I grabbed my kindle from my nightstand and was about to start on a romance novel when an involuntary giggle escaped me.
Why did I still feel the need to read?
My own life had become the number one romance drama in entertainment news today, yet it didn’t seem all that outlandish to me.
I wondered to myself why I still wanted to read about other people’s romantic dramas tonight when my life was a crazier version of the Spanish telenovelas my grandmother used to watch when I was little.
The superstitious part of me thought maybe my Irish grandmother’s spirit somehow could have had a hand in the events of the past three days. That, or she was rolling in her grave.
Either way, binge reading on Kindle was the modern day reincarnation of my Catalan Grandmother’s telenovela habit. There was nothing I loved more than a nice light-hearted rom-com with a happy ending that got my blood flowing and took my mind off work.
I decided tonight, to switch things up, I would go with a darker, more psychological love story. But just as I one-clicked a new romance by Willow Winters and downloaded it to my kindle, my phone buzzed.
I smiled, seeing the pet name I’d put in for Dustin’s phone number.
El Hubs: Cat Dog - are you ready for the interview tomorrow?
I responded with a gif of a dog and a cat playing with each other.
El Hubs: GIF chatting is not acceptable for married couples. Use your words.
Cat: I like GIFs. What are you going to do about it?
El Hubs: You’ll see tomorrow when I turn you into my personal toy. Again.
My skin tingled, but I tried to keep the subject on the interview since it was so important.
Cat: Seriously. I am nervous about tomorrow
El Hubs: Because you haven’t changed your last name yet and they’ll find that suspicious?
Cat: Not that. I just have a weird feeling in my gut. You never know what you’re going to get when you go to immigration.
El Hubs: I’m flying into D.C. tomorrow around two. We got this. No sweat
Cat: If you say so. I thought of a couple more questions today.
El Hubs: Shoot
Cat: 1. Do you like to read and if so which kind of books?
2. What’s your ‘one item?’ Meaning, if there was a fire which item would you save from your house?
3. Are you a morning or a night person?
I typed up my own responses to the questions while I waited for Dustin to respond.
El Hubs: 1. I read nonfiction war novels and biographies. Can’t stand fiction.
2. A picture of me and my papaw, who was the closest thing to a father I had.
3. I. Am. Batman.
You?
Cat: LOL @ 3.
1- I like romance novels + light reads (basically the polar opposite of dense medical texts).
2- The Catalan language bible I own passed down from my mother and grandmother.
3- I am an early riser.
El Hubs: Glad we’ve got this all under control. See you at the airport tomorrow
I wasn’t ready to say goodnight, and my insides tightened reading over his text. There was something that seemed a little too businesslike in his last message.
Cat: Wait. One more question.
El Hubs: Make it good.
Cat: How did we fall in love?
El Hubs: (eye roll emoji) Seriously? Immigration isn’t going to care about that.
Cat: But what if they do?
He didn’t reply for a few moments, even though I saw the three dots typing. I took another sip of tea and my phone rang.
“Hey,” I answered.
“Hey, Cat Dog,” Dustin said, his voice gruff. “How did we fall in love? Really? They aren’t going to ask about that. You’ve been reading too many romance novels.”
Despite his answer, I could tell my question flustered him in some strange way. He was clearly putting a lot of thought into not answering.
“You literally asked me what my spirit animal was. And you’re critiquing my question?”
“Yeah, but I was joking. You’re serious. Right?”
I sucked in a deep breath. “They’ve been known to ask questions like that. I just wanted to get on the same page. And a guy like you . . .”
I stammered over my words. I didn’t want to insult him, but I also didn’t want to dance around what I wanted to know.
“Have you ever been in love before?” I asked.
“No,” he said swiftly. “Have you?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Alright. So how did it happen?”
“I was sixteen and I was studying abroad in Ireland for the year. I don’t know, we just fell hard for each other. But then when I went back to Spain, he wrote me a letter about how it was over. And that was that.”
“That’s cute. Puppy love. Cat Dog love.”
“How about you?”
He cleared his throat. “I fell for someone and I thought it was love. But it wasn’t.”
“That is the vaguest answer I’ve heard anyone give to love.”
“Next question,” he said, and I knew I had hit a wall.
“Let’s just roleplay real quick. I’ll be the immigration officer.” I cleared my throat to begin. “So, Mr. LeBlanc, it seems like you two fell in love quite quickly. How did that happen?”
He chuckled. “I really don’t believe they’re going to ask us nonsense like this. It’s going to be like, where did Dustin grow up? Middletown, Ohio, by the way. You still haven’t asked.”
“Please, just play along for two seconds.”
He let out an exasperated sigh.
I had to admit there was a side of me that was morbidly curious about this question—and not just because I had heard from a friend of a friend that she’d been asked this question during her green card interview.
I was asking because I wanted to know, What made the Dustin LeBlancs of the world fall in love?
I didn’t quite understand him. And I wanted to.
“Well, Mr. Immigration Official,” Dustin began, and he was putting on some sort of rural accent that made me have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. He did it well. “Truth is, me and Catarina here go together like peas and carrots. Like cats and dogs. Like hamburgers and helpers.”
“Are you taking this seriously, or are you just quoting Forrest Gump?”
“Mr. Officer, you ever hear about the shrimp business? Shrimp is the fruit of the sea. You can barbeque it, boil it, broil it, bake it, sauté it . . .”
I quivered with laughter, but suddenly a bolt of hot anger came over me. “Dammit, Dusty. You can’t quote Forrest Gump in the interview tomorrow! Do you not understand the stakes of this? If we mess this up, I’m going back to Spain and this whole plot is for nothing!”
“I understand, Cat Dog. You don’t have to worry. I got this. We got this. Trust me. Have I ever steered you wrong before, in the history of our marriage?”
“We’ve known each other less than five days.”
“Exactly. We’ve got momentum. Good night.”
He hung up, and a vague feeling of dissatisfaction hung in the space between Dustin and me. I remembered that fairy tales weren’t real and that guys like Dustin LeBlanc probably never fell in love.
Although this weekend, I swore I saw glimpses of a man who at least had a few shades of kindness within him.
Maybe the elevator version of him—my first impression—was correct after all, and all the drinks and the novelty of the weekend had clouded my judgment.
I put my phone on silent and started the Willow Winters romance novel I had just one-clicked. When my phone flashed, I made a mental note to somehow curb my phone addiction. But I saw there was one more text from Dustin and I couldn’t resist looking.
El Hubs: Buenas Noches, Mi Amor.
The text was accompanied by a quite gratuitous photo of him. He was either all sweaty or had just gotten out of the shower, and was leaning on his hockey stick.
I swallowed slowly. The more I tried to resist the effect he had on my body, the more he overcame me.
Another text came in.
El Hubs: You still there?
Cat: Yeah.
El Hubs: You’re mine tomorrow.
Cat: (thinking face emoji)?
El Hubs: You know what I mean. Sleep tight :)
Something coiled inside me and heat was building between my legs. I thought I needed a rest tonight, but now I needed relief. I felt my insides flip because I wasn’t this girl.
Dustin’s voice was gruff but with a light undertone, and I could hear it in my head as I slipped out of my panties and got comfortable. After all, tomorrow was a big day, and I needed a clear head. My romance novel slipped to the ground, still showing the cover on the kindle screen.
Dustin could have been the model.