“I don’t know … they don’t bother me. I spent too much time there to be afraid of them.”
“That makes one of us,” I joked poorly.
“Think of it as a—”
“Place for healing. I know.”
“And they’ll take care of Abuela.”
“If it’s her hip, isn’t that bad?”
“At her age, yes. Surgery is dangerous. The recovery time is long, and she’ll be immobile for a long while. She’s going to drive us all crazy.”
“Or make us wheel a hospital bed into the foyer of the restaurant so she doesn’t miss anything.”
A chuckle. That waiting smile. “Sounds about right.” She relaxed a little, sitting back in her seat. “Where were you when I called? I didn’t expect to get snapped at when you answered.”
“I’m sorry. Presley and I were at the park and she was trying to tell me something.”
“Sounds ominous.”
“Felt ominous. She’s coming over tonight though. I figured Abuela would kick us out of her room at some point.”
“Probably sooner than later. She’s gonna end up bingeing telenovelas, and nobody’s allowed to speak when she’s that deep in Telemundo.” She leaned on the door and ran a hand over the curve of her skull absently. “What do you think’s going on with Presley?”
“I don’t know. She was looking for me while I was in Zambia. Did you know?”
“No.” A pause. “Do you think she wants to tell you she has feelings for you?”
“I know she has feelings for me. That wouldn’t be a surprise.”
She rolled her eyes. “I mean that she loves you.”
My mind was struck clean of all responses. It’d been too long for something that serious this soon. We hadn’t spoken or seen each other in almost five years. I mean, I wouldn’t have been that surprised—I’d been in love with her since forever, and I’d always gotten the impression she felt the exact same way about me. We’d never said the words. But we didn’t have to.
Problem was, there was nothing we could do about it but what we always did—take our time together and say goodbye again. This summer was no different than any of the others.
“What would you say if she did?” Mom asked.
“That I felt the same. But that doesn’t change the circumstance. I’m leaving. One of us always is.”
She sighed. “I’ve always liked her. Marnie I never quite understood.”
“Sometimes I didn’t understand her either.”
“You just looked wrong together. I don’t know why.”
I cast a glance in her direction. “You never told me that.”
“You never asked.” She laughed when she caught the look on my face. “I love Marnie, and I will never forget what she did for me. For both of us. But I think we all knew it wasn’t right.”
“You could have warned a guy,” I joked.
“That wasn’t my place, Bastian. And anyway, do you think it would have stopped you?”
I didn’t even have to think about it. “No.”
“No,” she echoed. “I think Marnie needed to happen. I don’t know why exactly, but I think you needed her. And I think you learned a lot. Or at least I hope you did. It’d be nice if the next one stuck, though.”
“If there is a next one.” When she frowned, I clarified, “The life I want isn’t something I can ask anybody else to subscribe to, Mom. Who can leave everything behind to sleep on cots in mud huts in a country that requires a list of immunizations longer than my arm just to survive? But you’re right, I did learn. One of the most valuable points being, people can’t walk away from the desire to have kids, and I shouldn’t expect them to. No matter how much they love you, no matter how they try to convince themselves it’s fine, it’s too big an ask.”
Her face was sad. “That’s my fault.”
“It’s nobody’s fault. Just shitty luck.”
“If you hadn’t been through so much with me, you’d feel different.”
“You don’t know that. Don’t torture yourself.”
“The single most meaningful thing that has ever happened to me is you. I want that for you.”
“Even if that child has to endure what you did?” I countered.
She was quiet for a moment. “I think that God has a plan for every soul on this Earth, yours included. I think if you choose to never have a child, that’s by His design. And if you do, it’s for a reason, and He’ll provide for you.”
I shook my head. I’d given up any faith in God long ago, though I still had deep respect for her and Abuela where the subject was concerned. “I can’t make that choice with a clean conscience. I can’t take a gamble on a child’s health. I just … I can’t do it.”
“I understand. I do. It just makes me sad, that’s all. Maybe just because I survived and so did Mama. I believe we’re strong enough. I believe you’re strong enough to take that chance. I think about if Mama decided not to have me or if I’d decided not to have you. I cannot fathom that I would have been happy. Truly happy.”
“But you wouldn’t have known any better.”
Another sigh. An attempted smile. “No, I suppose I wouldn’t. But I’m glad I do now.”
I pulled into the hospital parking lot with a hole in my chest that I generally did my best to ignore. But today, after that conversation, the hole gaped in echoing darkness, making itself known.
And I stood at the edge, wishing things were different.
7
It's Now or Never
SEBASTIAN
My only consolation in leaving Mom and Abuela at the hospital that night was the knowledge that Presley would be waiting for me when I got home.
I texted her when I left the hospital and reminded her where the spare key to the bungalow on our property was hidden. When I pulled into the driveway and found her empty truck, I breathed easy for the first time in what felt like days.
I couldn’t help but smile as I made my way inside, though I’d been plagued by our conversation since I left her. Although I couldn’t ditch the hope that she would tell me she loved me. I’d wanted to tell her ever since she taught me what the word meant.
I only wished I could take her with me when I left.
“Pres?” I called, closing the door behind me.
“In here,” she said from the living room.
When I rounded the corner, I found her standing there like she’d been waiting there my whole life. Her dark hair fell in waves over her shoulders, her eyes so blue, her lips so full. She wore a little sundress with spaghetti straps and buttons down the front, tight in the bodice and swinging out to a short, flowy skirt. Her hands twisted each other in front of her.
“How’s Abuela?” she asked.
“She’s going to be okay. She busted her hip, but the doctors decided she’s eligible for surgery. Mom’s still up there with her.”
Her shoulders relaxed a little. “Is she in much pain?”