Track Twenty-Seven
Daniela's POV
The tacos are only a few minutes away, so we both decided to go pick them up instead of waiting for delivery,the drive is short so why not
But neither of us seems particularly interested in getting back home quickly. The music is low, their hands resting on my thigh thigh while I literally talk about absolutely nothing, occasionally turning to look at them just because I can.
It's strange.A few weeks ago, seeing you Y/N meant through a screen. Now I'm sitting beside her again. Real. Warm.Close.
When we finally pull into the driveway, I look over at Y/N. "What?"
"You've been staring at me."
"I'm driving."
"You've been parked for thirty seconds." They glance down at the steering wheel.
"Rightttt." I laughed.
They lean over and kiss me, t's supposed to be quick but it genuinely fucking wasnt. I smile against their lips when they finally pull back. Oh what I need them to do to me later.
"Come on."
"You started it."
"And?"
"And nothing."
They grab the food from the backseat while I get out hands free as usual. The walk to the front door is easy, our shoulders brushing every few steps. They unlock the door, and walk in first. I freeze. Y/N damn near walks into me.
"What—"
Your POV:
You follow her gaze, your mom is sitting on the couch.
You freeze. She looks up from her phone, then at you. Then at Daniela...then back at you. "Took you long enough." You stare at her. "Mom?" Daniela looks between the two of you. Your mom smiles.
"Nice to see you too." You sigh, setting the food down on the kitchen counter. "What are you doing here?" "Checking on my child."
"I'm fine."
"I can see that."
Her eyes move toward Daniela. There's a brief pause. Daniela suddenly becomes very aware of herself. Your mom stands.
"You must be Daniela."
Daniela gives her a polite smile.
"Hi."
"Hi, sweetheart. My name's Lisa, knowing this one isn't gonna introduce me."
Your mom walks over, giving her a warm smile.
"It's nice to finally meet you."
Daniela glances at you.
You look away. "I've heard a lot about you," your mom continues. Daniela's eyebrows lift. "You have?" "Apparently." Your mom looks at you. You give her a warning look. She smiles innocently.
"Good things," she adds. Daniela laughs softly.
"That's good."
"It is."
Your mom turns toward the food.
"You two eating?"
"That was the plan," you say.
"Good."
She moves toward the kitchen, helping unpack the bags. Daniela moves to help, but your mom waves her off. "No, no. You just got back. Sit down."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
You glance at Daniela.
"She's stubborn."
"I can hear you."
"I know."
Daniela smiles. Your mom looks between the two of you. "So." You immediately know where this is going based on the vibe.
"Mom."
"What?"
"Don't."
"I'm not doing anything." Your mom ignores you. "How long have you two been together?"
Daniela freezes slightly.
You do too. She never asks shit like this..
There's a strange little pause. Not because either of you doesn't know the answer. Because there was a time when you didn't have one.
Daniela looks at you.
You look at her.
"A while," Daniela says.
Your mom raises an eyebrow.
"A while?"
You rub the back of your neck.
"Yeah."
"And this is the first time I'm meeting her?"
"Mom."
"I'm asking."
You sigh.
"We've been figuring things out."
Your mom looks at you for a moment.
"Are you still figuring things out?"
The question lands harder than she probably intended.
Daniela watches your expression.
You don't answer immediately.
Then you look at Daniela.
"No." Not as in we aren't anything. As in, I'm getting my shit together I promise.
Your heart skips slightly, nervous but confident. Your mom notices. Something in her expression softens.
"Okay."
That's it.
No interrogation.
No follow-up.
Just okay.
She reaches for one of the food containers.
"Well, then I'm glad I finally met her."
Daniela smiles.
"Me too."
Your mom looks at her. "I was starting to think my child was making you up." Daniela laughs.
"Why would I make her up?"
"Because you talk about her like she's perfect."
Your entire face changes.
"Mom."
"What?"
"You don't have to tell her that."
Your mom laughs.
Daniela nudges your arm.
"You talk about me?"
You look at her.
"Obviously."
"How much?"
"Enough."
Your mom smiles to herself. "I'll let you two eat." She grabs her purse from the couch. Before she leaves, she looks at you, smiling slightly.
"Call me tomorrow."
"I will."
Then she looks at Daniela.
"It was really nice meeting you."
"You too."
Your mom smiles before heading toward the door.
She stops just before leaving.
"Oh, and Y/N?" You look over.
"Have you spoken to your father lately?"
Everything changes. Your shoulders stiffen. The smile disappears. Daniela's eyes flick toward you.
You don't answer immediately.
Your mom seems to realize what she's done.
"I just meant—"
"I know."
You look down.
"No. Not really."
Your mom nods slowly. "Okay." She doesn't say anything else.
"Bye, Mom."
"Bye, sweetheart."
The door closes behind her.
Silence.
Daniela looks at you. You stare at the door for a few seconds before finally turning back toward her. She doesn't ask. Not yet.
Instead, she walks over and takes your hand.
You look down at your fingers intertwined.
"You okay?"
You nod.
"Yeah."
You can tell from her expression she knows you're not...
But she doesn't push, and you acknowledge and appreciate that. Not yet.
Later, after you've eaten and the food containers have been pushed to the side, the house is quiet again. Daniela sits beside you on the couch, her legs tucked underneath her. You've been quiet for a while.
She finally speaks.
"The picture."
You look over.
"What picture?"
"The one you showed me before."
You know exactly which one.
Your expression changes slightly.
"The one of your dad."
You nod.
"Yeah."
She hesitates.
"You never told me much about him."
You look down at your hands.
"I know."
She waits.
Then, carefully:
"Is he okay?"
A pause.
You close your eyes, dreading this conversation but knowing she needed to find out somehow.. "He's in prison."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"Oh." You look at her. "I've never really talked about it."
"I can tell."
She doesn't ask what he did. She doesn't ask how long. She doesn't ask if you visit him.
She just waits.
And somehow that makes it easier.
"He went away when I was really young."
"How young?"
You stare at the floor for a moment, the exact age had always been a little difficult to remember due to how fast all of it happened back then
"Five. Maybe six years old."
Daniela's expression softens.
"Do you remember?"
"Not really."
You pause.
"I remember him being there. And then I remember him not being there."
Your voice is quieter now.
"The first time I visited him was a little bit before he got sentenced. I didn't really know where I was but it didn't matter to me. I was seeing him, I loved my dad a lot and he was three so no matter the environment he made sure I was entertained and had fun." Dani smiled a little.
"But then I remembered when it was time to go...I guess I was confused why he wasn't coming with us. I think it was just too confusing at that age. And I just started crying really hard. I could tell it was hard on my mom."
"That's probably the weirdest part. I don't remember the actual moment he was "gone" you know. I just remember that one day he was around and then suddenly... he wasn't."
Daniela doesn't say anything.
You look down at your hands.
"I always knew where he was. My mom never hid that from me once I hit a certain point age. He was in prison. Simple. So we'd go visit him."
"All the time?"
"Yeah. For years."
A small smile crosses your face, but there's nothing happy behind it. "I remember those visits more than I remember him actually living with us."
Daniela's thumb moves slowly across your hand.
"What were they like?"
You shrug.
"Normal, I guess. As normal as visiting your dad in prison can be. There were movies to watch, cards and games to play, food to eat but it was unfortunately from vending machines all the damn time.
A quiet laugh leaves you.
"When you're little, you don't really understand how strange it is. That's just your version of normal."
You lean back against the couch.
"I'd get excited about going. We'd talk. I'd tell him about school. I'd show him stuff I'd done. He'd ask about my friends. We'd talk about what I wanted to be when I grew up."
Daniela listens quietly.
"And he'd always tell me he was going to get out."
Her eyes lift toward yours.
"Not like he knew for sure."
You shake your head.
"Just... possibilities. Like one day it would be I spoke to my lawyer or I heard something good "
You let out a slow breath.
"There was always something. A hearing. An appeal. A possibility of parole. Someone saying maybe things would change. Maybe he'll be home soon."
Your jaw tightens slightly.
"When you're five, six, seven years old, you believe that." Daniela nods.
"Of course you do."
"I'd go to school and tell people my dad was coming home."
Your eyes drop again.
"I'd tell my mom sometimes too. Like it was already decided."
A small silence.
"And then it wouldn't happen." Daniela's hand tightens around yours.
"So we'd keep visiting."
You swallow.
"Year after year."
Your voice gets quieter.
"Eventually I stopped asking when he was getting out."
"Why?"
You look at her.
"Because every time I asked, there was another possibility." You give a small, humorless laugh.
"Another maybe. Another date. Another reason it didn't happen."
You look away.
"And after a while, hearing that he might come home started feeling worse than just knowing he wasn't."
Daniela's expression falls.
"You got tired of hoping."
You nod.
"Yeah. I got tired of being disappointed. So then our relationship changed a bit. I kind of even grew a bit of resentment towards him."
A beat.
"I think that's where some of this comes from."
She waits. You rub your thumb against the side of her hand.
"When you grow up hearing that someone might come back, you start learning not to get too excited about people staying."
Daniela's chest tightens.
You continue before you can stop yourself. "So when you pulled away..."
You look at her.
"I think part of me didn't just think I was losing you." Your voice cracks slightly.
"I thought I was watching the same thing happen again." Daniela doesn't immediately respond.
She just moves closer. "I know I'm not him," she says softly.
"I know."
"And I'm not going to tell you I'll never leave."
You look at her. She squeezes your hand.
"Because neither of us knows what life is going to look like five years from now."
Your eyes stay on hers. "But I can promise you something else."
"What?"
"If something changes, I'll tell you."
You breathe out slowly.
"If I'm scared, I'll tell you."
Her thumb brushes your knuckles. "If I need space, I'll tell you."
She pauses. "And if I love you, I'm going to tell you that too." Your eyes drop.
"Even when I'm annoying?"
She smiles. "Especially then."
You laugh quietly, leaning her head against your shoulder.
"You don't have to spend the rest of your life waiting for someone to leave."
You don't answer. Not because you disagree.
Because you don't know how to believe it yet.
But you want to.
And maybe that's enough for tonight.