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My mother flew to Baja to look at the house they’d chosen online, herself. She’s also played hostess to Lucía’s mother for the last week.
I look down at my bruised hand and smile at the pain in it as I flex my fingers. I went to Coco’s arraignment this morning.
It was only going to take five minutes, but I wanted to see him, and I wanted him to see me.
He’s lucky the police found him before I did. After I saw Lucía’s bruised eye and arms, I saw red and I went looking for him. I drove to all the places he used to hang out and only stopped when I found out he’d already been arrested.
I watched him as he trudged into the courtroom, accompanied by the police. Apparently, he’s spreading his special brand of charm to his fellow inmates. He looks like he got his ass beat. He’s got black eyes, and a bloody lip. Good, I hope there’s plenty more where that came from.
I didn’t know this kind of rage was possible. I abhor violence. But right now I feel like I could tear Coco apart with my bare hands. He threatened Lucía. He fucking touched her.
I watched him as they led him into court. He scanned the court room as if he’d been expecting someone. His bruised eyes widened slightly when he saw me. His lips curled into a sneer. “She tastes real good, Reece,” he said with a wink. I didn’t care that he was handcuffed and it wasn’t going to be a fair fight. I didn’t give a shit about anything but making him pay. I lunged for him.
My movement caused a commotion in the courtroom, but no one managed to stop me before I reached him and I punched him twice, hard in the ribs. “If you even think about coming near her again, Coco, you’ll wish you were back in jail.”
I say this in his hear as they pulled me off him. He laid there groaning, covering his head. “Fuck you, Reece,” he mumbled as he was helped to his feet. I didn’t even respond; officers cautioned me and told m
e to leave.
Now, I’m standing here waiting for Lucía to come down. She’s leaving tomorrow. It’s her last night and I’m taking her back to Malibu for the night. We’ve spent the last two weeks planning, house hunting and saying goodbye. After what Coco did, my father did a one-eighty. He still thinks this is the best plan, her leaving, but he also saw the strength of Lucía’s character and how undeserved she is of all the shit she has to deal with because of her status.
She meant it when she said she’d had enough. But she wasn’t giving up. We talked to her lawyer and decided that she would voluntarily depart. She can apply for re-entry in three years and while that’s pending, maybe she’ll be granted permission to enter the country. That’s three years away. But we’re going to conquer that three years. And we’ll conquer anything else that gets in our way. Even if that’s the United States government. This love of ours is an infinite source of stamina. If they put an obstacle in our way, we’ll get over it, dig a hole underneath it, outlast it. We both have the same exact end goal. To be together.
She’s been stoic about this since that morning we argued. The focus has been on logistics. We’ve put our feelings aside so we could do what we needed to do. We hadn’t really talked about what we’d do once she was gone. How often would we see each other?
We bought her a car here that we’re shipping. She needs to take an official driving class, and then she’s got to get her license. She also had to open a bank account and set up her life there.
She’ll continue to write her book. We’ve agreed that she can do remote interviews around the movie’s release and premier. And I’ll be back and forth until we can finally live in the same place.
Three years is a long time to live separately. But if it meant that we could have a lifetime together, we’d do it.
My mother walks into the foyer as I’m waiting. Her normally enigmatic expression is full of sympathy. Her dark hair is pulled back, her mouth smiling, but tense. “Is she ready to go?”
“I think so. We’ll be back tomorrow morning for her mother,” I say staring up at the stairs. Waiting for her to appear. I was hungry for every glimpse of her now. Knowing that I wouldn’t be able to see her every day, or even every week is killing me.
My mother puts an arm around my waist and pulls me in for a rare hug. I hug her back. I need the comfort right now. I’ve never looked to my mother for that before. Lucía was the first person to ever give me any real peace. She’s handled things amazingly well. She’s helped me really believe that what happened to Julian wasn’t my fault. That my role in it was a very cruel coincidence, but nothing more. She’s shown how generous and gracious love can be.
“You’ll be fine. This won’t be easy, but it’s the best thing, Reece.” Her voice is gentle, but I can hear the steel in it, too. She knows the separation will be hard, but she’s sure it’s the only way forward.
I hug her back, the knot in my chest constricting as I’m reminded yet again, that the best thing for me is to send the woman I love to live in another country.
“I know. Thank you for everything,” I say. And I mean it.
She sighs. “I wish I could have done more. But, you’ll be fine. She’s a smart woman. And she loves you. Those will be the secrets to surviving this.”
I look down at her, smiling, but surprised. “I never took you for a romantic,” I say to her.
“Who do you think you got it from?” And with a quick peck on my cheek, she continues down the hall.
Lucía comes down a few minutes later. She’s dressed in a short red top and black shorts that are, as usual, too short.
The shirt is unsubstantial and as soon as I see her, I want to take it off. I know I’ll find her completely naked underneath.
She’s half way down the stairs when she sees me. She goes from walking to running and I meet her at the landing, where she launches herself into my arms. Her legs wrap around my waist and she kisses me like it’s the last time we’ll kiss. And I reciprocate.
I’m scared about her leaving. Terrified for her to be in a new country, having to learn how to navigate all by herself. I know she’s capable of doing it, but it feels wrong that she’s going to be doing this without me. I can’t move to Mexico. My work is here. I head a studio that’s my family’s legacy. No matter how much I need her. No matter how much she needs me.
She understands. This is her home, too. Her life is here and this is just until she can come back. But it’s going to kill me to be away from her. To not be able to protect her. The stories I’ve read this week, of what happens when undocumented people are deported or leave voluntarily. They often end up on drugs, homeless, exploited or dead.
