He sighs, his expression grim. “I like you, Cecilia. We all do.” There’s a “but” coming, and I brace myself for it. “But you’re not helping him. Whatever this situationship the two of you guys have going on is, it’s not healthy. Not for him. And probably not for you.” I nod, hating the truth of his words. “Gabe cares too much. Loves too much. And all it’s getting him is?—”
“Hurt,” I finish for him.
“Yeah.”
We don’t talk again after that.
43GABRIEL
Iride alone with my thoughts for close to an hour before I find myself slowing as I reach Pier 39. The sight of the ocean shimmering beneath the sunset brings a sense of calmness to my turbulent mind.
With a deep breath, I dismount from my bike and walk toward the edge of the dock, the old wooden planks creaking beneath my weight.
My phone buzzes incessantly in my pocket, each vibration a jarring interruption to the solitude I seek. With a frustrated sigh, I finally reach into my pocket and turn the damn thing off, silencing the persistent notifications that have plagued me since parting ways with Cecilia.
As I gaze out at the vast expanse of the ocean, lost in my own thoughts, a voice interrupts my solitude.
“Gabriel?”
I stiffen at the sound, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. Turning, I see my father approach, his figure outlined against the soft glow of the setting sun.
His presence is both unexpected and unwelcome, but I suppress the urge to tell him to go away.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my tone sharp and not at all respectful.
He grimaces as he draws closer, lingering only a few feet away from where I’m seated with my legs hanging over the dock’s edge.
“I spotted your bike in the parking lot as I was driving by,” he explains. “I just wanted to check on you. I know this is where you come when something’s wrong.”
I nod, a begrudging acknowledgment of his observation. Pier 39 has always been my sanctuary, a place to escape to when the chaos of my thoughts becomes too much. I don’t come here often anymore. Lately only on the anniversaries of Carlos’s death. But today, I don’t know, today I needed the ocean to help clear my thoughts away.
“I’m fine,” I reply curtly, turning my gaze back to the lapping waves.
My father sighs, his breath forming a cloud of mist in the chilly air. “You’re dressed awfully nice,” he says. “Almost like you just came from a wedding.”
My jaw tightens.
“You knew about that?”
He sighs and moves a few steps closer. “I did. I’ve known about the wedding for a couple of months now,” he says softly. “Today was the big day. Did you go?”
I tense at the mention of the wedding, the wound still raw in my chest. “Yeah,” I mutter, my voice barely above a whisper. “I went.”
“How was it?” he asks.
“How do you think it was?” I scoff. “She’s replaced us with a new family. A new husband and two new sons now, in case you were wondering.”
My father’s expression darkens with sympathy. “I’m sorry, mijo.” His voice is heavy with regret. “I tried calling you when I found out. I didn’t want you to be blindsided.”
His words offer little comfort.
Sighing, I lean back against the dock, the rough texture of the wood digging into my palms.
“Whatever. Not sure why I expected anything different.”
He steps closer again before gingerly sitting down beside me.
“Your Mom and I, we were hurting after your brother passed away,” he murmurs. “It’s not an excuse,” he adds when I open my mouth to respond. “Simply an observation. You didn’t deserve what we did. You were hurting too, and we turned our backs on you when you needed us most.” He stares up at the sky. “Nunca me perdonaré por cómo te tratamos.”I will never forgive myself for how we treated you.“Pero si me lo permites, me gustaría intentar ganarme tu perdón.”But if you'll let me, I'd like to try earning your forgiveness.
