1. Winnie
1
WINNIE
Present Day
“ T here’s only one last place he can be,” I murmur to the interior of my car. The podcast I have playing is talking about how to find peace once a loved one is gone after being a caregiver to said person, specifically when they were addicted to drugs or alcohol.
“This episode is called Learning to Live Again ,” I hear the on-air voice say.
“Easier said than done.” My nerves are shot, my palms are sweaty, and I’m under the gun in the form of time here. I could have had these hand delivered, except that would be another whack to my dwindling bank account, and who knows what Johnny would do with them? You see, I fucked up. No, I fucked us up. I did it big, and no amount of apologizing or getting down on my knees to beg for forgiveness will repair what I did to us.
“Here’s what you’re going to do,” she goes on to say, and I’m done. I’ve tried. Really, I have to work on myself from the inside out, but when you’re the reason you lost the biggest piece of yourself, it’s hard.
I can’t even look at myself in the mirror most days. I’m a shell of a person. I’ve lost weight, my hair is thinner, the dark circles beneath my eyes are permanent, and creditors are knocking on my door. When I left, I walked away with nothing. Johnny had given me more than money could ever buy, and I couldn’t fathom taking anything besides my clothes and a few valuables. Mainly my wedding rings, which I still wear till this day. The few dates I’ve been on, not one single man asked if I was married, widowed, or divorced. It also made me realize that I wasn’t ready to get back out there. None of them made me feel like I was the only woman in the room. None of them made my stomach swirl with butterflies. None of them were my husband.
So, I quit looking and did my best to work through my jumbled-up head. Of course, scrolling social media like the idiot I am didn’t help and further pushed me to come back to the place I once called home. There’s nothing like keeping an active profile, mindlessly scrolling and seeing the friends and family who were once yours move on without you. I’ve been standing still, stuck with my decision to help my sister, and meanwhile losing what I’ve always wanted: A safe haven, a place to call home, and a man to call mine.
“God, you are so stupid. But if you didn’t go with Melanie when she needed you, who would have known what would have happened?” I swallow back the clogging of emotions bubbling up inside of me. While I have a lot to atone for, I have started laying the footwork in trying to find my elusive future ex-husband. I started with the penthouse apartment. I parked on the street, walked the handful of steps to the door with papers in my hand, and asked if Mr. Gonzales was available. I was expecting to be escorted off the property, except the concierge asked my name, his eyebrows shot to his hairline, and he told me I was free to go up, but Mr. Gonzales was out for the day. I declined his offer of going upstairs. Our home isn’t mine anymore; it’s Johnny’s.
I left in utter shock, went back to my car, made a few loops trying to compose myself, and kept whispering what the fuck over and over again. Muscle memory or my conscience had me driving by Undercover Lovers, but the parking lot was empty. I figured it would be with it being a late morning on a Sunday. Apparently, crossing my fingers didn’t work in my favor because he wasn’t there, either. Which meant I only had one other option: Johnny’s mom, Isla’s, house. I really didn’t want to put her in the middle of this almost-over relationship; we’ve kept up here or there. Weeks after what I like to aptly call doomsday, I got a new phone since I couldn’t bear the thought of Johnny paying for anything of mine, plus it was less temptation for me to call and beg for his help. I made my proverbial bed, and it was time I slept in it.
Isla Gonzales felt differently. She messaged me on every social media outlet plus e-mail, relentless in her effort to check on me and make sure I was okay. I didn’t know it then, but I know it now. She herself went through something similar with her cousin, except her family member didn’t suffer the same fate my sister did. Therefore, we chatted here and there, she gave me updates about what was happening here, asked if I needed anything, and when I dumped on her with the latest antics my sister created, Isla listened.
That didn’t mean she wasn’t trying to persuade me to come home, and when everything was said and done, I still couldn’t. You see, there’s a reason I’ve been stuck in Georgia, and the sooner the divorce is handled, the sooner I can get back on the road to pick up what I left behind.
“Mija.” My door is yanked open. I’m unaware that I’ve driven the fifteen minutes or so to Isla and Santiago Gonzales’ home.
“Isla.” The tears I’ve been keeping at bay are rolling down my cheeks. She wraps her arms around me, holding me tighter than I’ve felt in the past four years. Hugs, physical touch, affection, and even talking to an adult have been few and far between. Except for when I’m at work; still, it’s only talking shop, nothing below the surface. There’ve been no meaningful conversations except through text, and it’s with the woman who’s currently holding me together.
“Jesús Cristo,” I hear Santiago taking the lord’s name in vain. Any other day, Isla would be smacking her husband and telling him to watch or hush his mouth. Not today, though. “Winnie, turn the ignition off.” The sliding of the gear shift tells me he put the car in Park .
“I would, only your wife kind of has me in a choke hold,” I try to play it off with a laugh, except I’m still crying my eyes out.
“Mi amor,” Santiago says with that tone, a hint of pure alpha male so similar to his son’s, and damn if that doesn’t hit me right in the chest.
“Santi.” She loosens her hold. I squeeze her one last time and pull back. I’m making a scene, and that’s the last thing I want, especially if she’s having a Sunday-type shindig.
“Isla, at least let her get out of the car before you tackle her more.” Johnny’s mom lets go of me, and while I could have held on to her forever and a day, I really do need to get everything squared away before my time comes to an end. The clock is ticking, and while I have a few hours, I still need to be back in Georgia the sooner the better.
“Fine, fine. Sorry, no, no, no. I’m not sorry our girl is home, and more than a hug is due.” Isla wipes the wet away from my cheeks and looks over my shoulder. “Where is Sebastian?”
I fold out of the car, my body protesting between the drive and the emotional upheaval. Well, I’m tired, sleep hasn’t come easily to me for four years, and when I do get some rest, I constantly wake up with from the slightest of noises, on high alert and in a panic in case of the inevitable happening and having no control of the situation. Santiago moves around after shutting the passenger door and does the same to mine once I’m cleared from the area before he’s on my other side. Isla’s arm is looped through mine, and we’re taking small, slow steps up the driveway.
“That’s why I’m here. I have less than a week to get everything in order, or I’m going to lose him.” God, I could really kick my sister in the ass right about now. She left me to deal with so much red tape, and as much as I tried to help her get on the straight and narrow, Melanie is, well, Melanie.
“Oh, honey, what do you need us to do?” Isla asks. This is where things are about to get tricky. Santiago opens the front door, ushering us all into the house. Everything is the same as it was before I left—the furniture, the décor, and even the wedding picture of Johnny and myself. A part of me is ready to rush toward the framed photo, pull it off the wall, and crush it to my chest.
I’ve seen pictures of Johnny here and there on social media, and when I do a search of him online, he pops up with how successful his business is. I’ve seen him with his friends, their businesses as well, and recently, I’ve seen him with a woman on his arm. It hit me hard. My stomach sank to my feet, but I have no reason to be a crazed woman with a possessive and jealous side of her. Especially considering I’ve not been a monk, so how can I expect him to be?
“I need to know where Johnny is. I’m really sorry to even ask you of this, but I have to get this done, or I could lose Seb.” Santiago lets off a rapid-fire litany of expletives in Spanish one after the other. He starts walking back and forth, the entire length of the living room. Pacing, that’s what he’s doing.
“Oh, Winnie, mi Nina.” Isla covers her mouth with her hand, the other squeezing me closer to her once again.
“He’s at Asher’s, but first, where’s Sebastian?” Santiago wants more information. I close my eyes, worry hitting me once again.
“He’s with a sitter at the hotel. I should have just brought him with me instead of using one of those apps to find a qualified person in the area.” I take a deep breath. “I didn’t know what would or could happen, and he’s been through so much already.” The last thing I want to do is bombard Johnny at his friend’s house. I’m trying to calculate what I have in my bank account. Maybe I can afford a motel for a second night. The one we’re in now on the outskirts of town is not the best, to say the least. If we do that, I’ll have to skip a few meals, but at least there’s a hot shower and a bed. Then again, if I didn’t have Sebastian, I could sleep in my car, eat something of the fast-food variety, and wait for Johnny until tomorrow morning. Either way, I’ll still be strapped no matter what, but I’m pretty sure having a place to live is a top priority in keeping Sebestian. Running water and power are a necessity, not a choice.
“Okay.” I’m going to stick with option two. I’ve packed a small cooler that should have more than enough to feed Seb, and if I ration myself, I’ll have plenty to hold me over.
“I’ll give you the address, but first, you’re going to eat. We’re going to talk, and you’re going to tell us everything,” Santiago states. There’s no changing his mind.
“Yes, food first.” Isla detaches herself from me, bustles through the house, and heads straight for the kitchen. My stomach makes its presence known in the form of a growl. Santiago’s gaze sharpens on me. I can see what he’s thinking without saying the words. I’ve gotten myself in a pile of shit, and the Gonzales family is going to figure out a way to help my fix the problems I never should have gotten involved in. Then again, if I didn’t follow my sister, who knows where Sebastian would be now?
“Come here, Winnie.” Santiago opens his arms. I rush toward him. I’m an asshole, the worst of the worst. I should not be on Johnny’s parents’ doorstep asking for any favors and taking up their time.
“I’m so sorry.” Johnny is the spitting image of his father, and when his hand cups the back of my neck, I’m once again falling into a fit of tears and silently cussing myself for the millionth time for the pain I’ve caused everyone, including myself.
“Nothing to be sorry about. You got dealt a shit hand. Message the sitter, let her know I’m going to be picking up Sebastian. Isla and I will go. We’re checking you out of the motel, too. You’re staying here, and if Johnny has something to say about that, he can answer to me.”
“I can’t ask that of you,” I mutter into the quiet room.
“You didn’t. I told you what we’re doing. The motel is a hit, you driving down here is a hit. Let us help you. I know my son. This is gonna take time. You two need to talk and, if nothing else, get a bit of closure.” He lets go off me yet still holds the outside of my arms, dips his tall body until we’re on eye level, and waits me out.
“You’re right. I just hate that I’m putting you two between things. He’s your son, and I’m, well, I’m me.”
“You’re our daughter, no matter what happens. He knows this, mija.” Isla comes back into the room, hands on her hips. “Now, food, yeah?” I nod, unable to deny them anything.