She pats my chest, soothing me, as she curls smaller on my lap. She’s already tiny, so I’m not sure how she makes herself smaller.
Swallowing down the bitter taste in my mouth, I steel myself. “Do you want to end things?” I need to know off the bat what she’s thinking, where her head is, whether I’m going to leave this house with my heart shredded into tiny pieces by my pixie.
Her head snaps back so quickly it brushes the edge of my jaw. That could have been a disaster. She’s shaking her head, the sadness in her wide eyes replaced with fear.
“No, Ares.” She caresses my face with her palm. What does she see on my face while I’m staring into her sadness and fear? Is that what she’s looking at in me, too?
I nod, but the tightness in my chest doesn’t dissipate. She turns my head back to hers, sweeping her nose against mine the way I love, before touching her lips to mine.
“I’m not leaving you, Ares. I feel more like myself than I have in a long time, and that’s because of you, because of us.”
I had planned on taking her back to my place, but she stays planted in my arms for hours, until long after Tori goes to bed. Eloise tells me all about her mom, the accident, the months that followed, and how badly she misses both of her parents.
She tells me about her injury rehab, her physical therapy, and how for a little while she wasn’t sure if she’d regain the use of her arm. I can’t imagine how terrifying it must have been for her to be dangling upside down in the car, with blood dripping from her body, while watching her mom die right before her eyes.
And yet, she’s a ball of bright light and strength. I almost feel guilty for not being there for her at that time, which is stupid because we didn’t even know each other. But that’s a lot for anyone so young to go through, especially when the remaining parent checked out as well.
She tells me about her therapist, and how without her, she’d probably not be here. I want to send her a gift, but nothing feels like it’s enough for a “Thank you for saving my girlfriend’s life” present.
I could send her a new car, but the last time I did that for someone, my sister kicked my ass. Apparently, a car is overkill for a thank you gift. My therapist at the rehab center didn’t know what to do with herself when she saw it. I’m pretty sure she pissed herself.
Eloise’s favorite serial killer documentary runs on the TV until she falls asleep in my arms, beyond exhausted. Tori doesn’t have a spare bedroom, so I have no choice but to wake up my girl and take her back to my apartment. After the day she’s had, sleeping on a couch isn’t going to be good for her at all.
I leave a note for Tori, thanking her and telling her I’ve got Eloise with me at my place, and I hold her hand on the drive home as she dozes, her head against the cool car window.
“I still want to come to Thanksgiving with your family if that’s okay.”
I swear, when she tells me things like this, it’s like flares detonate in my chest. I don’t think she has any idea, either. “It’s more than okay.”
I help her get into one of my old shirts before tucking her into bed beside me. She’s out cold within seconds, but no amount of watching her chest rise and fall with even breaths can drag me under. I don’t know how we’re going to get through this if her dad isn’t on our side, but I need to try. I need to think of something, somehow, for us to be together that won’t destroy us both in the process.
* * *
The sound of my phone ringing drags me from a fractured sleep. The bed beside me is cold, and if it wasn’t for the faint smell of strawberries on the pillow case, I’d wonder if last night was a dream.
Papá’s name flashes on the screen in front of me, and I groan. I have enough going on in my life without him giving me shit for whatever it is I’ve done to tarnish the family name this week.
Family. Fuck. With everything going on I’d all but forgotten about Thiago. Sourness bubbles in the back of my throat. I bet that’s how he feels about Papá, too. Asshole probably never looked back.
Should I hire a PI to look for him? Am I ready for what he might find if he does?
My phone screen flashes again and my stomach dips. I get it though. This thing with Eloise’s father has made me realize how much my behavior has the potential to impact others. Sure, for a lot of my history, I was young and foolish, drunk and high. For a lot of it I didn’t give a flying fuck… But even as I’m starting to grow up, to outgrow… that past follows me, and I can’t shake it.
It’s a harsher lesson to learn than any of my family, or therapists at rehab have tried to teach me until this moment. And while not all of my past is worthy of front page news or embarrassment, enough of it is that mytesoro’s dad doesn’t want me to be with his daughter.
I pick up the phone, and before I can even say hello to Papá, he’s yelling at me in streams of Spanish. Apparently, Athena told Mamá that I’m bringing a plus one to dinner in a couple of days, and that’s disrespectful to my mother. Not the bringing someone part, no, the fact I didn’t tell her myself or give her enough advanced warning.
I try hard not to snort. This guy has some nerve. I’m pretty sure Thiago is my half-brother and Papá is lecturing me about being an inconvenience and disrespecting my mother. I’m also pretty fucking sure that fucking another woman and knocking her up is disrespectful to Mamá, and it’s on the tip of my damn tongue to say as much.
I love my mother, and throughout everything I’ve tried my very best to protect her from the worst of my behavior and not to disrespect her. She has a way with Papá that is likely the only reason I haven’t been cut off from the family fortune or murdered and never heard from again after all my shit. But more than that, she’s my world.
I suspect I’m her favorite child, but she’d never admit it out loud. I have no idea how, but she has a soft spot for me. Maybe it’s because I was her last? I don’t know. But I’m getting the impression that dear old Dad wants something to complain about for complaining’s sake. I let him flame out. When he’s done, or at least done for now, I ask him if it’s okay for me to bring Eloise to dinner. He scoffs and says of course it is, as though it was never a question.
I know Mamá, she always makes so much food that we need to share with our neighbors. She’s a social butterfly who loves people, and she wants to marry all four of her children off to good partnerships as quickly as possible, so I knew that even if I turned up unannounced on the steps of my childhood home with a date, Mamá would be fine.
I dunno what bug is up Papá’s ass today, but it’s not me, and for once it’s not my drama. Certainly not at 8am on a Sunday morning after little sleep and what feels like a hangover, even though I wasn’t drinking.
The only way to stop the lecturing in my ear and go find my girl is to be apologetic and mean it, to pander to him and tell him everything he wants to hear. So, I tell him I’m sorry, I’ll apologize to Mamá, and after another few minutes ranting, calling me a selfish, petulant little shit, he finally relents. I can breathe again.
