Page 83 of The Apparent Trap

“Just the beginning?” I ask with a sly smile.

She nods, sheepish. “I know I wasn’t great to you when I started. That’s just my own shit—and honestly, your dad has helped me see that. I need to not assume I have to do everything on my own.”

“I’m glad,” I say truthfully.

“But seriously, Ezzie—I’d already asked a lot of you when I told you Lee was my dad, and you never hesitated for a moment to let me keep that private. And then you didn’t argue with me when I asked you again to not tell anyone about your dad either. But yeah, Georgia bringing that up made it clear you weren’t totally okay with things. Which should’ve been obvious”—she turns to gaze at my dad, and I’m really unsure of how these two people are actually breaking up when they look at each other like that—“but I was in such a happy bubble that I didn’t want to see anything else.”

“I really always do just want you to be happy,” Lee finally says, his first interjection in this entire conversation. And I’m glad to see Carmen looking back at him with so much affection.

“I know that,” she says. “It took us a long time to get here, but I really do know that. And I feel so grateful for it.” I can see her starting to tear up, and my dad takes her hand. Again, not the move of a broken-up couple, but what do I know about relationships? “Moving here and getting to spend time with you has been monumentally important to me. I’ve known you for a long time now, but I never really let myself know you. I was resentful, and it wasn’t fair, but it was all I had. In the last few months, I’ve really been able to take a step back and appreciate that while what Mom did wasn’t right, she didn’t do anything intending to hurt anyone. And I’m just grateful we’re all here now, because this feels like it was meant to always play out this way.”

“But then . . .” I ask, pointing between the two of them.

Carmen shakes her head, a few tears making their way out. “It’s hard because there’s no impending necessity for right now. It’s not like I want to have kids today or Mark is planning to retire and spend years traveling all of a sudden. But it actually . . . well.” She looks at him, and he nods, encouraging. “I told Mark I loved him. And, well . . . he brought up the fact that we should probably break up.”

My jaw drops. “What?” I turn to face my dad. “Okay, you are deeply out of practice dating. That’s horrible!”

But Carmen gives a soft laugh. “Don’t be upset with him. He’s right. We were both falling in love, and the longer it went on, the harder it would be later.” I feel Lee gaze in my direction. For all the time we were making that point to each other, we’d failed to say it to the two people who needed to hear it most. I hate the other thought that crosses my mind: Maybe we failed it with each other too.

“We had our first honest conversation about the future,” Carmen continues. “And as much as it hurt, it was clear that we couldn’t just ignore the reality of what we each saw for our lives.” She looks at him, the tears still brimming. “He’s really become my best friend. And neither of us want to lose that. So this is a hard decision, but it’s the right decision.”

“So you’re broken up but still hanging out?” I ask. I’d rather stick needles in my eyes than hang out as pals with Lee right now, so I can’t imagine how this is going to work. But luckily, they both laugh.

“No,” my dad says, shaking his head.

“I think we’re both hoping in the future we can,” Carmen continues. “And I think we’re optimistic that a lunch like this . . . We’d both like to be able to do this. To still spend time together, chat, talk through the issues and topics we’re both passionate about.”

“Because so few people are.” My dad laughs, and Carmen joins him, two little weather nerds in their own bubble of needing commonality.

“But no,” Carmen finally says, more serious. “I think for the next few weeks or months we’re going to need a bit of space just to move forward and hurt a little less.”

“So why tell us together?”

“I wanted pozole,” my dad says with a shrug. I roll my eyes at him, and he grins. “No, in all seriousness, we thought it would be better if you heard it from both of us, so you didn’t worry. We’re both going to be okay.”

“I just hate the thought of you being sad,” I say, my voice cracking with emotion. What is wrong with me? This is literally what I wanted.

My dad reaches out and squeezes my knee. “Oh kiddo, you can’t grow and be happy without a little sadness too. The sadness is worth the good. There’s so much good. We’re both grateful to have met and really changed each other’s life. That’s not something either of us is taking for granted. That desire to be in each other’s life is why this feels so necessary. Don’t feel sorry for either of us.”

“But,” Carmen says, “maybe you and Georgia could, I don’t know . . . invite me out for some girls’ nights now?” Her tone is breezy enough that she could play it off as a joke, but something tells me it’s not.

It’s really amazing how much you can misread a person. Insecurity masked as bravado should’ve been something that I, of all people, could recognize.

But maybe starting this way with Carmen was good for me. Standing up for myself with her was also breaking out of my own habits. Georgia has never made me feel like the sidekick, but maybe I’ve let myself be that. Carmen is the first person I’ve actually insisted on having equal footing with. We’ve both grown, and we’re luckier for it.

“I think we can do that,” I finally say with a smile.

“Good. Because I’m grateful for you too.” She looks over at Lee. “And you. I’m really grateful for you.” He nods, the movement slight, pushing down whatever else emotionally that sentiment is doing to him. “And I hope you know that I wouldn’t begrudge you spending time on yourself also, on having your own love. On the contrary, I’d welcome it. Because you deserve your happiness, too, with whatever person actually fits that for you. Please don’t let me or your perceptions of what I need ever stop you. All I need is you showing up and being in my life, and you’re doing that. You shouldn’t believe that you aren’t entitled to that.”

My head swivels between her and Lee. Does she . . . know something? They’re both looking at each other, no one glancing in my direction. My dad seems clueless, as always.

But just as quickly as the moment surfaced, it’s gone. “Anyway,” Carmen says, standing. “I made tres leches for dessert. And I know of at least two people going through a breakup who could probably use some sugar and carbs.”

She and my dad cackle with laughter as he gets up to join her in the kitchen. I watch as they go, discussing how they think the conversation went, as though we’re not right behind them.

It’s comforting, seeing how openly they’re tackling this. As much as I’ve wanted this outcome, there’s also something bittersweet about recognizing how monumental Carmen has been for my dad. He’s able to start a new chapter that I was holding him back from.

I want to feel relief, but sitting here next to Lee, there’s a strange disappointment creeping in. The mature solution is supposed to be best—recognizing when someone’s life isn’t compatible with yours, recognizing when familial and personal needs take preference over romantic needs. Yet I can’t quite pinpoint why this conversation has left me with the urge to knock something over. There’s frustration and sadness in my gut.