Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
you do not deserve that woman
Arthur
“Arthur?” Alice’s sweet voice breaks the awful silence that took up all the air in the room after my dad told me I shouldn’t be here. Maybe he’s right. I know everyone out there can hear us. I’m sure it’s why Alice is here now.
Her small hand slides into mine, holding on tightly. Keeping my eyes on the floor, I can hardly bring myself to squeeze her hand back. “Maybe we should go,” I whisper so low, I’m not sure she hears me.
“No,” she responds clearly. “No, I don’t think we should go.
I definitely don’t think you should go, Arthur.
” She adjusts her stance, like she’s readying herself for battle.
“Mr. Machado, it’s not my intention to disrespect you in your home, but I need to say this.
You’re wrong. Arthur should be here. Cecilia asked for him to come, and despite the hours he’s spent second-guessing his decision, he’s here for her.
Because she’s family. I’m no expert on what a loving family looks like, believe me, but I can give you plenty of examples of a crummy one, if you need them. ”
She pauses, taking a breath before lifting her head higher, meeting my dad’s eyes.
“I don’t know you, but I’ve been lucky enough to get to know your son.
He’s a good man. You must know that because you raised him.
He’s loyal and kind, he’s hardworking and honest. I’ve lived and worked with him for weeks, and I have yet to find any fault with him.
I don’t know what happened between the you of two, but is it worth all of this?
Is forgiveness harder than not having Arthur present at family events, Mr. Machado? ”
She twists to face me, and I wait with rapt attention for whatever is coming next.
“And you. Is the pain you’re putting yourself through worth it?
Are you going to carry all of this guilt around with you forever and let people believe what they want.
Or are you going to let them see who you really are?
Because I see you, Arthur Ivan Machado. I see you, and I know you’re made of pure, solid gold. Regardless of your past.”
She takes my face in her hands, those amber eyes I fell hard for on day one, grounding me in a way I’ve never known before her, and that I don’t think I’ll find after her, either.
“Show him who you are. Talk from a place of love, not of guilt or shame or stubbornness. Don’t let this drive a permanent wedge between you, Arthur.
You have a family, and it’s a really good one.
Don’t let that go to waste, because people like me wish we had even an ounce of what you’ve got here.
Okay?” Her words are whispered softly, but they hit me like a freight train.
She seals her words with a kiss, then walks out of the room.
I chance a look at my dad, and he’s as awestruck as I am, but he wipes the look away quickly, replacing it with the disappointment I’m so used to seeing.
“I’m sorry,” I say lamely, and he scoffs, the sound putting another crack in my heart.
Shaking his head, my father pinches the bridge of his nose. “I wish I knew where I went wrong with you. I thought we’d done all the right things, showed you we loved you, but then you—” He stops short, as if finishing the sentence causes him physical pain.
“Then what, Pai? I showed you I’m human?
I get it, you never planned on having a son addicted to narcotics.
I never planned that for my life either, but that was the problem.
I planned everything, until it was all I did, and when I needed an escape from it all, my brain wouldn’t let me rest.” As my voice gets louder, the room starts to feel smaller.
“I know I messed up. I’ve beaten myself up about it for years, but how am I supposed to forgive myself if my own dad won’t forgive me? ”
“I did that, Arthur!” he yells with more hurt than I’ve ever seen in his eyes.
“I forgave you, and I helped you, and I loved you through all of it.” He looks up at the ceiling, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.
When he levels me with his stare again, he doesn’t say anything for several never-ending seconds.
Finally, he speaks, his voice low. “You do not deserve that woman.”
I nod in agreement. “You don’t need to tell me that. I already know I’m not good enough for her.”
“Let me finish,” he says, walking closer to me like he’s approaching a wounded animal, so cautiously.
“You don’t deserve her like I never deserved your mother.
Decades later, I still don’t think I’m good enough for her.
But you know what makes me feel like I got it right?
Like I could do anything, be anything, and even maybe be worthy of her?
” He doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Her love. The fact that she thinks I hung the moon, even when we both know I’ve never even come close.
That she chose me as her partner. Me. And she chooses me every day.
The only other thing that makes me feel like I’m doing things right in my life is watching my children thrive and be happy.
I failed you, Arthur. I know I did.” He hangs his head low, wiping a tear from his cheek.
“You failed me? Pai. Come on. I’m the one who failed. I fucked up. I nearly caused you to lose everything.” My voice cracks on that last word, and he looks up at me again.
“No, filho. Losing everything would have been losing you. Money is just that. It’s just money.
We can make more, we can figure it out. But you?
If we’d lost you, I—” He breaks off on a sob, and fuck, nothing tears me apart more than seeing my dad cry.
“I can’t stand the thought of that happening, so when I saw you at that bar, I decided I couldn’t watch you do that to yourself again. I wouldn’t survive it a second time.”
“What bar? What do you mean?”
He’s never told me any of this. I thought he was done with me after everything I had put them through with the debt I accrued, thanks to my addiction, and then the cost of rehab. He told me he never wanted me to pay them back, and he never wanted to speak to me again. And that was that.
“Someone told me they saw you at a bar in Ojai some time after you got back from rehab. Bob’s, or something?
I don’t know. And I couldn’t believe it, but then I went there and I saw it for myself.
It was you sitting at that bar, switching one addiction for another.
” His face is full of pain. Pain I caused, but pain that’s unnecessary if he thinks I switched from drugs to alcohol.
“Pai. I don’t drink. I haven’t touched alcohol in a very long time.
I don’t even take over-the-counter painkillers.
Beau, the man who owns the bar, he’s my sponsor.
I go there every Wednesday after my meeting to wind down and collect my thoughts.
I’ve been sober for over three years.” I swallow the lump in my throat, making it hard to breathe.
We’ve wasted so much time. “I met Alice there, actually. She doesn’t drink either.
I thought she did, and I wanted nothing to do with her at first, but anyway, that’s another story. ”
“Doesn’t being at a bar tempt you to go back to your old life?” he asks incredulously.
“Nope.” My answer is immediate. “Alcohol was never my drug of choice, which is why it was so easy to give it up. Beau runs a tight ship, and while he’s an addict himself, he gets that people who aren’t addicts sometimes need a place to think, to process, to vent.
He gives that to people. You wouldn’t know it by looking at him, but that guy is an amazing listener, and he’s full of good advice.
He’s been pushing me to talk to you for a long time, actually, but I’ve been too scared.
I owe a lot to him for being where I am today.
” I swallow the emotion lodged in my throat.
“I owe everything to you and M?e, but I’ve been lucky to have friends like Beau and Owen.
And I swear to you, Pai, I’ve been clean for years. ”
My father’s eyes fill with tears he lets spill freely down his cheeks. “All this time?” he asks solemnly, taking slow steps toward me. He lays both hands on my shoulders, looking me in the eyes. “I’m so sorry, filho. Can you forgive me?”
Now it’s my tears that fall. “There’s nothing to forgive.”
“Yes, there is,” he argues. “It’s my fault you haven’t been here. I let my pain blind me. Instead of asking you, instead of talking to you, I chose to believe what I thought I was seeing.”
I pull him into a hug, and a part of me I thought I’d lost forever immediately begins to heal. He whispers more apologies, and I hug him tighter. I say the words I didn’t think I’d get the chance to say in person ever again. “Te amo, Pai.”
“Te amo, meu filho. I never stopped loving you, and I never will. I hope you know that. I hope I can show you that.” With my father’s strong arms around me, I silently hope I can do the same.
After a few quiet moments, we pull apart, both sniffling. “We should get back out there. I’m sure Cece is going to demand cake and presents any minute now.” My dad wipes his face, and all of the anguish there before has, at least, started to dissipate.
“Yeah, I gotta look for Alice.”
“Don’t let that one go.” He squeezes my shoulder once before walking out of the room. I follow him out, all the while hoping I don’t have to let Alice go, but knowing if leaving is still what she wants, I will.
I find her pacing on the driveway in front of my truck. She must be so deep in her own thoughts that she doesn’t even hear me coming. When she spins to pace back toward the house, she sees me and breaks into a full sprint, running right up to me. I pick her up as she wraps her limbs around me.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry if I messed it all up, but I couldn’t not say anything.”
As she continues to ramble on with apologies for literally coming to my rescue, I move us so we’re on the other side of my truck, out of sight from any curious eyes. Once her back hits the driver’s door, I rear back, moving her hair off her face until she’s looking at me. Only then does she stop.
I take in her tear-rimmed eyes. “Don’t cry, baby. Everything is fine.”
“You two talked?” I nod, swallowing hard as I think of the moment we realized this was all a miscommunication. “You’re okay?” She takes my face in her hands again, waiting for my answer.
“More than okay,” I say, and she sobs through a wide smile, half laughing, half crying. “We need to talk some more, but we’re good, tesouro. Really good. Thanks to you.”
She shakes her head, leaning forward to kiss me as her tears soak our faces.
“I’m so proud of you,” she whispers. It’s these little moments with her that are always the quietest to my ears, but the loudest to my heart.
It’s at this second that I want to shout out that I’m falling inevitably in love with her.
But then I remember she hates it in Ojai, and her goal has always been to leave.
And then I remember she still doesn’t know my whole story.
So I stop myself.
Every time.