Chapter 23 Family
I felt the shift in Rina’s body as soon as it happened. She straightened suddenly, and her hands over mine went slack.
I quickly let go of her and stepped to the side so that I could look at her. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
She didn’t even glance at me, and instead, walked closer to the fireplace before running her fingers over one of the framed photos that was on top of it.
It was a family photo, with a very young me, covered in mayonnaise and mud – don’t ask – a laughing Taron, and our parents. Not my best moment as a kid, but Mom loves this picture, so I got it framed for anyone and everyone to see and get their fill of amusement.
I was nothing but a vessel of entertainment, after all.
Rina swallowed, her eyes still on the photo. She then pointed a finger at me, and tapped the tip of her left thumb on her chin, followed by the center of her forehead.
“Yes,” I said. “Those are my parents.”
She swallowed again, and then smiled faintly as she touched a corner of the photo.
“That’s me,” I told her.
I know, she signed, and then finally looked up at me.
“I was eight,” I began. “I didn’t wanna be in the photo, but Mom and Dad were pretty insistent about it. I was covered in mayo, so when they all but dragged me into the backyard for the shot, I rolled on the wet grass in…umm, protest.”
Rina laughed, but the action appeared halfhearted. She then glanced at the rest of the photos, all taken during random, unexpected moments throughout the years, and signed, You look happy in these.
“Yeah,” I said, but didn’t elaborate.
She hugged herself and lowered her head a little.
“Rina, hey.” I cupped her face between my hands. “I’m so sorry.” I knew my words wouldn’t fix anything, but I meant them, and I hoped she understood just how much.
She shook her head, and her expression turned to one of regret.
I’m sorry, she signed. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have ruined things by dampening my mood.
“It’s not your fault, and you didn’t ruin anything,” I told her, but she simply kept shaking her head.
“Rina.”
No, she signed. I’m sorry. Tears started streaming down her cheeks. I’m sorry.
I brought her face close to mine. “Listen to me.”
She stopped and looked at me, so vulnerable and wounded.
“You didn’t deserve to lose them,” I said.
“But you did, and I’m genuinely sorry. I hate that there’s nothing that can be done against what was taken from you, but Rina, you have people in your life who see you as a damn blessing.
” I pressed a kiss on her forehead. “Mr. Ribeiro, Ashleigh and your crew at the shop, their families.” I swallowed. “Me.”
She wrapped her fingers around my wrists, and her chin trembled a second before she started crying.
“Baby…” I pulled her to me and hugged her to my chest.
In the time I’ve known her, Rina and I have never discussed her parents.
And to be honest, I’m okay with that, because the last thing I wanna do is upset her.
I know this is a sensitive topic for her, so to bring it up on my terms really doesn’t feel right.
I, of course, would be okay to talk about it if she wants to. It is, after all, her choice.
She fisted the back of my sweater and pressed her face into the crook of my neck.
We remained that way for a while, and I was glad I could be there for her like this; that I could give her a moment of solace and comfort.
Trust was an imperative thing in a relationship, and for Rina to let me see this side of her – it meant more to me than words could explain.
She slowly, reluctantly pulled away from me, and gestured for me to give her something to write on as she all but slumped onto the sofa.
I nodded, and then grabbed a pencil and sketchbook from the coffee table before handing it to her and taking a seat next to her.
You know what hurts more than losing them?
She wrote. It’s that I can hardly remember them.
I miss them more than I can express, but I can’t remember them.
I have their photos and a few old videos in the name of memories, but I can’t, for the life of me, put a recollection to any of them.
When I think of them, all I can remember are the moments Pai and I would sing Christmas carols together, and the times M?e would let me watch her bake in the kitchen.
That’s it, Myles; that’s all I can remember.
Nothing noticeable, nothing too specific.
And it breaks my heart, because I love them, but I don’t even know them too well.
I miss them, and I can’t even imagine their faces until I’ve seen their pictures.
I don’t know what that says about me, but I miss them and I love them and it hurts.
My throat tightened, and my eyes burned after reading that. “You were very young, Rina,” I said to her. “It’s natural for you to not remember a lot. But at least you have those vague snippets of the past to know they were real, and that they most definitely loved you.”
But it’s not fair to them.
“What’s not fair is you thinking it’s your fault, when it clearly isn’t.”
Rina was shaking as she began writing again.
It is, though, isn’t it? If I hadn’t asked for that dress, we wouldn’t have gone to the boutique, and they’d still be here.
“Rina…” I placed a hand over her knee. “You know ‘What ifs’ don’t solve anything, right? They only make things complicated and painful. They are simply a way for you to drown yourself in doubt and unnecessary accusations. Please don’t do this to yourself.” I gave her knee a firm squeeze. “Please.”
If I’d gone back into the boutique with them instead of letting them go by themselves, then maybe–
I didn’t let her finish writing; I grabbed the sketchbook and pencil from her before throwing them on the table.
“No.” I shook my head. “Fucking no, Rina.” I held her face again, and that’s when I realized that my breathing was uneven.
“Don’t ever let yourself go there, you got it? Grief and anger are valid emotions, but you can’t let them define you.” I leaned in and kissed her salty lips. “I won’t let you do that to yourself.”
She blinked at me, pain clear in her misty eyes.
“Tell me you understand me, Rina,” I urged.
She sniffed as she scanned my face, and then let go of a sigh before placing a hand over my chest.
I do, she signed.
I kissed her again, and this time, she reciprocated it with equal vigor and urgency.
And that – that was hopeful enough for me.
More than enough, if I were being honest.