5. Loss Of My Life
5
LOSS OF MY LIFE
LOML, TAYLOR SWIFT
Manny
She might cut off my balls. When I think of her face, I’m sure of it. I didn’t think signing her up would be a bad thing though. I thought she just needed a little push to start her whole summer list of things she wants to do.
Me: on a scale from 1 to 10 how fucked am I if I signed Cara up for something she didn’t know about?
Allielicious: It depends on what the something was?
Me: Karaoke at a bar with half her school faculty?
Alliellicious:
Allielicious: Buena suerte
Fuck.
The song stops and Cara walks to the mic in the center of the stage. She’s pulling a stool with her and at the same time, the DJ steps out from behind the booth and walks toward the back corner of the stage where a dark piano sits. I can’t tell if it’s black or brown, but whatever color it actually is makes a good contrast with the yellow and blue framing the whole stage. She sits on the stool, adjusting the height of the mic and before she speaks or sings, she looks at me with a murderous glare and moves her lips in what looks like you own me. I’m guessing you owe me is more like it.
The DJ starts playing the piano behind her. A soft melody that I can’t place and then Cara says, “Good evening, Limoncello.” Her voice is cheerful as she smiles big at the audience—a complete contrast to how I know she feels, but she’s a master of her craft and she hides her true feelings well.
“I’ve never done this here before, but my friend Manny thought it was a good idea as a farewell to this city that has given me so much in the past years. Mike over there,” she says, pointing at the guy on the piano and he smiles and nods at her. She flips her hair over her shoulder and smiles back at the crowd before continuing, “He said that this would be a good opportunity for him to play one of his favorite new Taylor Swift songs. So make sure you give it up for him as he performs with me tonight.”
I’m not surprised at how effortlessly she has the crowd’s attention, laughing at her subtle jokes and smiling with her. Cara is like the sun and we’re just all in her orbit.
“So without further ado, let’s begin.”
The audience claps before the melody on the piano changes and as soon as it does, a hush falls over the crowd. Cara closes her eyes, lets out a gentle breath and starts singing. Her voice starts soft, her eyes still closed and her hair cascading in soft waves around her shoulders. She’s not only singing—she’s telling a story. A story about a couple who are dancing around each other for years. A story about memories and patiently waiting and taking further steps into a relationship.
She opens her eyes as the melody changes into what feels like the chorus of the song. Her eyes sparkle looking around at the crowd, which is completely enamored by her tone and her voice. Then she says something about the love of her life and stops singing, letting the piano take over to the next part of the song.
You can only hear the melody dancing in the space. It’s like the whole bar is completely frozen in place, captivated by her sweet voice. Suspended in time while she continues telling this story. The same way I have been completely lost in Cara for as long as I can remember.
As the song keeps going, the tempo picks up and her voice changes to a deeper tone. A sadder tone. She’s singing about goodbye masked as love and she’s delivering a message with both her voice and her eyes. Her voice is haunted now and she’s casting a spell over all of us.
Even the bartenders, who were previously cheerful and focused, have now paused, listening to the sound of her voice as it reverberates through the space. Then as Cara delivers the last line of the song, changing love for loss, her eyes close one more time and the melody fades. The bar remains hushed for a beat longer, as if nobody wants to let go of the enchantment. Then the spell breaks, and the room erupts into cheers and a loud applause. Everyone stands up and when she finally opens her eyes, her whole demeanor changes. Before the song, she was like a ray of sunshine, full of warmth and color. Now, she resembles a wilting flower, withering away as the melody ends.
Cara offers a shy smile, one that doesn’t reach her eyes. To others, they might think it’s her real one, but I know her better than that. I can see the quiet sadness that lingers just beneath the surface, hidden behind a mask she’s learned to wear. Her eyes don’t wrinkle at the corners the way they do when her joy is real, when it spills out effortlessly and fills the whole room. They don’t sparkle with that familiar warmth, that unguarded light that makes her who she is. Instead, there’s something distant, almost hollow, in their depths. The smile, too, is a half-hearted thing—just a shadow of the one she used to give, the one I became too accustomed to growing up and the one I tried my best to pull out of her. This is compliance, the kind she has perfected over time, the smile she offers when she’s trying to follow some unwritten rule to pretend she’s okay when I can see how far from it she really is. And I ache, wishing she didn’t have to hide herself but also wondering if I had anything to do to with it.
She brings the DJ to the front and gives a curtsy, pushing him forward so people can clap for him too. She leaves the stage, walking past the crowd as they clap for her and when she passes by them, she keeps her head held high and smiles at them. She slides into the seat next to me, puts the straw between her full lips and downs her whole drink.
“Cara, my goodness, I didn’t know you could sing like that,” Beth admires, her voice full of awe, a warm smile spreading across her face. But I can’t tear my eyes away from Cara—how she stands there, the soft glow of the stage lights catching in her hair even from afar, the way her hands hover nervously by her sides like she’s unsure if she’s allowed to be proud of herself, proud of this moment.
“I sing for the kids all the time,” she responds, her voice soft and almost apologetic, as though she’s justifying something she doesn’t want to be seen for. “It’s the adults that I don’t like.” Cara blows Beth a quick, lighthearted kiss, trying to brush off the compliment like it’s nothing. But I can see it; that little break in her composure, the way her lips quiver before they settle back into something almost forced.
“That was amazing,” I gush before I can stop myself, the words tumbling out with more weight than I intended.
“I’m ready to go,” Cara announces suddenly, her tone shifting again. It’s like the performance is over, the curtain falling, and she’s already retreating into herself. She reaches for her purse, the subtle click of the clasp snapping shut louder even in the busy restaurant. She pulls out cash and starts to count it out mechanically, as if paying for drinks is all that matters right now.
“Put it on my card, please, and close the tab,” I tell the bartender, my words coming out more abruptly than I mean them to. There’s a sharp edge in my voice, like I’m angry.
“You really don’t have to pay for my drinks, Manny,” Cara protests, her voice tight and almost clipped, as she watches the bartender swipe my card. There’s a trace of frustration in her tone, but underneath it is something more—a quiet, brittle thing, like she’s angry at herself more than anything else.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, just loud enough for me to hear, but I don’t think she’s even talking to me anymore. I think she’s talking to herself.
“I know I don’t have to,” I reply. “But I want to, Cara.”
“Thanks,” she murmurs, her tone softening as she heads toward the door. The tension in her shoulders seems to ease slightly as she walks away. The glow from the bar’s neon sign reflects off her silhouette, casting a warm amber hue on the polished wooden floor beneath her. She exits into the night, the door swinging open and then closing with a soft, resigned thud behind her.
“Cara, wait.” I walk behind her. Once outside, she turns her body to me, and that is when I see it. She has rosy cheeks and tears behind her eyes .
“Why did you do that?” she asks, smacking me on the shoulder with her bag.
“Woah, woah, why are you sad? That was an incredible performance.”
“I didn’t say I wanted to sing karaoke in front of everyone, Manuel. That was so embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing?” I repeat. What the fuck? “Were we both not in the same place? Because that was so damn good you left us all speechless. Not an ounce of what you did out there was embarrassing. That was the best damn performance of the night. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything better.”
“Don’t try to win me over now. That was shitty! You didn’t even ask!” Cara shouts and at this point, we’re making a scene out here. I know she wants to go so I message the driver. I told him to stay on standby and in just a couple minutes he pulls up to the curb.
“Come on, let me get you home.”
I open the door for her and step right in behind her. She sits on the opposite end of the SUV and looks out the window, giving me the cold shoulder.
“Cara, talk to me,” I plead, reaching over to hold her hand. “I’m sorry I did that. If I had known it was going to upset you, I would’ve never.”
She lets out a breath and says, “It’s okay. I just hate surprises and today has been a day full of them. I’m ready to go home and go to sleep.”
Ouch, she hates surprises and today I’m responsible for three of them.
“Okay, I get that. Sorry for pushing you to do something you weren’t ready for,” I tell her. Her body immediately shows me that was the right move. Her shoulders relax, her eyebrows are not frowning anymore and she lets out a big breath, melting into the seat .
“All of you Zabanas are good at saying sorry huh?”
I don’t think so, I want to say, because I don’t usually apologize for anything. Apologizing is taking the blame for something and I’m usually right. But with Cara, it has always been easy. Easy to talk to her, to spend time with her, even when I was being the annoying best friend’s little brother.
“What do you mean?” I ask and she places her legs on top of my lap.
“All of you are always saying sorry, even if it’s not your fault. Especially your sister. You meant well, Manny. I was just surprised. And honestly, the whole move has me a little jittery,” Cara adds, grabbing her hair and twisting it in a messy bun behind her neck.
“What’s stressing you out about the move?” I add as my phone vibrates on my lap, showing a business client’s number and I dismiss it. I cringe at the act. I don’t remember the last time I skipped a call but it can wait. Right now I need to figure out what’s going on with her.
Cara’s eyes trace the movement of my hand to my lap, sees me silencing the call and then her eyes shoot right to mine.
“You can answer that. I can cover my ears and say lalala until you’re done if you don’t want me to listen to your important business call,” she jokes, adding quotation marks to the business call part.
“It is a business call, Cara, and it can wait.”
“At this time? That’s probably a booty call,” she adds, sticking her tongue out and shaking her head.
“I don’t get those, sunshine. I don’t give my phone numbers to the women I fuck and I don’t date, so here we are. If someone’s calling me on this number, it’s business related, trust me.” And I mean it. In the beginning, I used to have my phone number listed but I stopped after I had a couple of stalkers—women and men —calling me at all times of the day to ask to come to my place. Now, I have two numbers: one for family and friends, and one for business. It leaks every so often but I’ve had a good streak.
The phone rings again and I decline the call.
“Then still, answer it,” she says.
“No, I’m talking to you. You were saying?” I add, turning my phone off. That’s new.
“Honestly?” Cara pauses, her voice trembling slightly before she continues, “I just want to do this one thing for myself. I want to explore, travel, and see all the places I’ve always dreamed of. I don’t want to do it alone, but I’m done begging people for their time. I’m tired of never being at the top of anyone’s priority list. I’m done pleading for people to want to be with me.”
Her words hang in the air, heavy with a mix of frustration and resignation. Cara turns to look out the window, her gaze distant as if searching for answers in the dark sky. As she shifts herself further away from me, I feel the immediate loss of her warmth, a sudden coldness replacing the comforting heat that had been there. The absence is palpable, a stark reminder of the emotional distance between us. The SUV feels emptier now, the silence more pronounced, and I can sense the weight of her words settling heavily in the space between us.
“Then do it,” I insist.
“It’s not that easy, Manny. I want to believe that I’m this independent can-do-it-all woman, and I’m sure I can, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to go on this road trip by myself. I think I like people too much. I like being around people too much.”
We pull up to her house and she tries to open the door but I hold her hand. That movement freezes time. A simple touch and everything changes. I can feel it in the air. I can feel it in the way she slowly turns her face toward me and when her emerald eyes get hooked on mine. I’m about to do something that I’ve never done before—I think I might take her up on this crazy trip. I might actually stop working and help her make this dream come true.
“Wait, let me,” I insist as I open my door, stepping out and offering my hand to help her get out of the SUV. She takes it and steps out, giving me a soft smile.
We walk in silence to her door. The wind blows softly bouncing through the leaves in the trees around us and Cara’s hair flowing with it. The soft light from the streetlamps reflects on her face and her eyes shine when I look at them. I’m doing this. I can’t look at her like this, so full of dreams but so sad at not making them.
“Let’s do it,” I announce. I want to sound confident, like I know what I’m doing, but I think for the first time in my life I sound unsure. Hesitant.
“Do what?” Cara asks.
“I’ll take you on the road trip. We’ll go and do whatever you want. Just make the list and I’ll take us there.”
Cara rolls her eyes. “Yeah, like you would leave your precious work for that long to do this for me. It’s okay, Manny. It was a dare, not a contract,” she adds.
But it’s not just the dare. There’s no easy way to say no to Cara and there’s no easy way to let her down. Seeing a glimpse of sadness on this girl who is usually such a light to everyone around her, it’s hard enough. She said she’s not been a priority to people, I’m about to make her mine.
“I’m not backing out on the dare,” I say, because what else can I? How do I say I don’t want to see her sad without making her feel like I pity her. “We’re going.”
“Manuel,” she starts.
“Cara, we’re going. I’ll stop by tomorrow and we can finalize plans, okay? ”
“You’re impossible,” she groans, grabbing the keys from her purse and opening her door.
“To say no to?” I tease, smiling and she smiles back.
“Bye, asshole, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She steps into her house and turns around. “Are you sure? Don’t get me all excited for nothing.” This vulnerability that she’s showing me. This uncertainty is not like the confident Cara I’ve known for years and I’m thankful for it. I’m glad to see the friendship that I thought we’ve had through the years is there. The honesty in her words and in this moment is more than I thought would happen and I’m grateful for it, even if she doesn’t believe me.
“I’m a man of my word, Carita. See you tomorrow.” I wink at her and she flushes.
I wait for her to close her door and then walk to the SUV that’s waiting for me. And I think about how the fuck I’m going to make this work.