The clipboard is balanced on my knee, pen hovering over the paper, while I valiantly try to remember my dad’s social security number. She peers at the paperwork, and I can sense her smile.
“Julio Ernesto Cabrera,” she says softly.
“Ernesto is my abuelo, he passed away in an accident not long after my Tia Carmen was born. My dad and I both have his name as our middle name. My mom gave Wayne her dad’s name, Jonathan, as his middle name. He hates it, don’t ever mention that you know that.”
“My lips are sealed,” she promises.
We head back to where the woman at the front desk tells us to go once we hand in the paperwork. The overpowering antiseptic smell burns my nose as we enter the treatment area. All of the beeping noises and machinery make me jittery. The bright, fluorescent overhead fixtures castthe hallway in a stark light. It’s freaking freezing back here too, like the air conditioning is on full blast. A doctor has my dad on the examining table, gently probing his right hip.
“Hanging in there, dad?” I ask when he sees us.
“I’ll live, son,” he says dryly.
“We’re going to take him for x-rays just to make sure, but his hip doesn’t look to be broken,” the doctor says. “I don’t see any other injuries, his head and cognition are fine,” he adds to my relief.
After taking a couple of minutes to finish writing his notes, he looks at each of us with a pleasant smile.
“Just hang here until someone comes to take him to x-ray, ok? We’re a little backed up, so it may take a little while.”
Then he’s out of here, onto the next patient until he can do more for my dad.
“I still think this is too much. I’m fine,” my dad reiterates.
“No harm in just making sure. Suck it up,” I tease him.
Celeste yawns next to me, covering her mouth when she does and looking chagrined. It’s been a long night, I’m not the most awake myself.
“Why don’t I scrounge up some coffee for us? I could clearly use some,” she offers.
“I could also use one, mi vida. Thank you,” I say, planting a quick kiss on her.
“I’m good, thanks,” my dad chimes in.
She nods and wanders off in search of precious caffeine as I stare after her. When I turn back to my dad, he has a knowing smirk on his face.
“What?” I ask.
“Not such a fake marriage anymore, is it?”
“Dad, seriously?” I sputter.
“Did you think I didn’t know? Son, I know you better than you know yourself. You haven’t been fooling anyone,” he says with a soft chuckle
“Wait, does everyone know? Wayne and Gina, too?”
“Yes, they know. We’re not idiots, Gagey. The timing was too convenient.”
I’m the idiot, apparently.
“I guess I’ve been fooling myself, if anyone. If you knew it was fake, why did you let me go through with it?” I demand.
“I’ll say it again, I know you better than you know yourself. When I saw you two playing darts that first time, the way you were looking at her even put the way I used to look at your mother to shame. So I didn’t say a word, and just let things take their course. I knew you’d come around to see sense with time and some self reflection,” he says with a shrug.
“To see the sense in what, exactly?”
“That love is worth the risk. Opening yourself up to your person is worth the risk. Marriage is not for everyone, and it’s scary, but when you find your person it is worth everything, mijo. That wonderful woman is your person,” he asserts.
“Telling me ‘I told ya so,’ would have been easier,” I quip.
