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“So, have you talked to him?” Jessica repeats the question that got this conversation started. I twirl my wine glass in between my fingers.
“No. His dad’s been sick, he’s been working . . . and I’ve been avoiding him,” I say, feeling miserable and ashamed of myself.
“Well, stop doing that. You know where he lives, right? Go there. Get it over with before you have to see him when you give your presentation. That would be all sorts of awkward. It’s Monday night, I’m sure he’s home.”
Why didn’t I think of that? I put my fork down and look
at her. “Yes.” I clap my hands together. That’s a great idea.
Jessica whoops in delight. I laugh, too. I’d forgotten what a shit stirrer she is. She lives for drama. She’s probably hoping Reece and I will get into a fight and it’ll be on TMZ. But after two glasses of wine it sounds like a great idea to me, too.
So, I turn to my mother and say, “What do you think?”
“Go and get your answers. I’m going to finish my tacos and then let Jessica take me home.” I kiss her cheek. I open my Uber app and order a ride to Reece’s place in Calabasas. My fingers tremble as I press Request Ride. I hope I’m doing the right thing.
“Wish me luck ladies,” I call as I stick my head outside the patio’s sliding doors. We see the sweep of headlights as my car pulls into the driveway.
“Go get your man.” She calls after me as I speed to the door.
I text Reece, afraid showing up unannounced might be a bad idea. All I write is: I’m coming to your house, be there in thirty. I just hope he’ll see me.
20
Reece
It’s later than usual as I pull onto my street. I’ve been in a meeting with my father all evening and I’m exhausted. This week has been one of the most difficult of my life. One of our projects is seriously over budget because our lead has missed days of work, which cost us hundreds of thousands of dollars each time. My father’s recuperating, but he’s still very weak and my mother’s been a nightmare. And then, there’s Lucía.
I need to figure out what I’m going to do make things right with her.
I pull into my driveway, tired but resolved. I’m heading back out as soon as I change. After our confrontation, I called, texted and emailed Lucía every day. I even went by her house once to see if I could get her to talk to me. She wouldn’t speak to me or see me. Not that I blame her.
The conversation we had last time I saw her got out of control so fast.
I think back to that night and how angry I was on the drive to her house. I thought maybe Fabienne gave her the story. The scenario I imagined ended with her confessing to misleading me. These thoughts, played over and over again in my head and were fuel for my anger.
And in one sentence, she blew that all to bits. Her brother. I’d sent him to jail.
It took me years to get to a place where I could forgive myself after finding out what I’d done.
When the police asked me to come in, I didn’t think twice about it. When I picked her brother out of the lineup, he was just the guy I’d seen the night before. I thought I’d done something heroic. But, I hadn’t. Not only did my actions cause the police to halt an investigation that left a real rapist out on the streets, they ruined an entire family.
My guilt has always been overwhelming. The foundation, the legal defense fund, and the advocacy made me feel like I was making a difference. But, Lucía brought the real-life consequences into sharp relief in a way it hadn’t been before. Seeing the living, breathing consequences of my actions has been nearly debilitating.
Now, I don’t know how to look at her and ask her to forgive me for something so utterly unforgivable.
I told her I was developing feelings for her that night. I didn’t even know the half of it. This week, after coming so close to losing her, I know that what I feel is real. The thought that I might have to let her go terrifies me. If she can’t stomach the thought of being with me, I won’t have a choice. But I’m going to fight with every ounce of strength I have. I’ve never been so sure about my feelings for someone as I am with Lucia.
I know she’s in town. I heard she was at the office, but I couldn’t risk approaching her there. I didn’t know if she’d ignore me or throw things at me. They have a big day on Wednesday, I don’t want to be the reason that she’s distracted or upset. So, I’ve left her alone.
I was starting to feel like a stalker. So tonight, I confided in my father. He knew something was off. I hadn’t planned on telling any of it, but when he asked, the story poured out me.
He listened, he even took a few notes. When I was done, he’d said, “Reece, it’s not going to be easy.”
I’d agreed with him, “Yeah . . . I don’t know if she’ll even give me a chance to explain.”
He shook his head at me and said, “That’s not what I mean. That, son, will be the easiest part of this. She’ll talk to you. She’ll understand that you made a mistake. But once you’re together, that’s when things will become hard. You’re going to get a lot of press attention and for someone like her, that’s very risky. What are you going to do about her status? You can’t marry her. She can’t travel. She can’t drive. If you did get married, she could be deported at any time and then what would you do?”
I’d forgotten that my father was a pragmatist. He’s more laid-back than my mother, but he’s very rarely emotional about things. I should have known he’d say the equivalent of “So what if you love her?”
