AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I threw the phone onto the couch and leaned back, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. I needed to calm down, to stop my brain from running away with crazy thoughts. I needed to trust Tony, to believe that there was a plausible explanation for all of this.
After all, he didn't even know he was about to become a father. And for now, that was my only solace.
Chapter 29
Tony
The blazing midday sun of Madrid greeted me as I disembarked from the plane, an aggressive, direct contrast to the soft evening light I'd left behind in Denver. The city buzzed with life, its citizens embracing the promising day before them. The relentless wave of exhaustion I felt seemed to stand in opposition to the energy around me.
An hour remained of my journey, a stretch of highway standing between me and my parents' home on their vineyard. The thought itself was more draining than the drive could ever be. Buying a phone at the airport crossed my mind, a concession for the absent device left in the rush of my departure. A glance at the time reminded me it was four in the morning Colorado time. Jude would be asleep, oblivious to the world, and I was not about to shatter her peace with a call.
Instead, I collected my carry-on and navigated toward the car rental desks. Despite the chaotic swirl of my thoughts, one constant remained -- I missed her. As my father's condition and the concern for him bore down on me, thoughts of Jude persisted, a persistent thread woven through the tapestry of my mind. Funny, I thought. All those years spent learning to compartmentalize as a cardiothoracic surgeon and one woman managed to scramble it all.
Jude, her laughter that could warm the coldest of rooms, her spirit as vibrant as a Colorado sunrise, the understanding in her hazel eyes, her seamless blend into my life. A twinge of something akin to regret rippled through me.
"Perfect, Antonio," I muttered to myself as I entered the near-empty car rental office. "Nothing like an existential crisis before noon."
I shook off the mental detour and refocused. I had a family to support, a father to comfort. Everything else, significant as it was, would have to wait. Jude would understand, she always did. That was simply who she was.
Upon securing a rental, my first order of business was to call my mother. The public payphones scattered around the airport felt outdated, a relic of a past era, but seeing as I had left my phone at home, they were my lifeline.
I took a deep breath, picked up the receiver, and dialed the familiar number. The line crackled, and an automated voice announced in Spanish, "Please insert the correct change." With a metallic clink, the coins dropped.
After a couple of rings, my mother's weary voice came through. "Hola?"
"Mami, soy yo, Antonio," I responded, my words spilling out in a rush.
"¡Antonio! ¿Dónde estás?" Her voice, a mixture of relief and apprehension, echoed in my ear. It was clear she'd been on edge, waiting for my call.
"Estoy en Madrid," I reassured her. "Just landed a little bit ago. No tengo un teléfono, so I’m calling you from a payphone at the airport. I’ll be there in an hour."
My mother sighed in relief. "Oh, gracias a Dios. But don’t bother coming to the house, go right to the hospital, entiendes?"
A cold spike of fear stabbed through me. "¿Papá está peor?" The question of whether or not Dad was doing better or worse blotted out every possible thought in my mind.
"No, no peor. They’re putting in stents. Estaremos allí," she explained, her voice holding a tinge of strain. The news was unexpected, yet not surprising.
"De acuerdo, Mami. I’ll head there now," I replied, my heart pounding. "See you soon.”
We ended the call, and I headed for the car. A cyclone of anticipation and worry twisted through my head. A torrent of scenarios played out, each more frightening than the last. But through it all, my resolve remained steadfast. I had to be there for my family, to be strong for them, just as they had always been for me.
The car hummed along the winding roads, the purr of the engine a steady backdrop to my spiraling thoughts as I drove to the hospital. The scenic routes brought back the carefree days of my youth. Little cafes where I used to grab churros for breakfast, the park where I played football, the streets where I'd learned to drive. All carried imprints of a simpler time, overlaid with a tinge of nostalgia.
But it wasn’t a childhood friend I found myself wishing for by my side, it was Jude. Her presence had become a source of strength and calm I didn't realize I had begun to rely upon. I wished she was with me to help me navigate through this, to hold my hand, her quiet strength bolstering my own. To lend me the courage to offer my parents reassurances despite my fears.
With a jolt, I finally understood the depth of my feelings for her. It was as if I had been driving through a fog and had finally emerged into startling clarity. The thought hit me with the force of a punch—I was in love with her. I was in love with her and I had just left her thousands of miles away without a word.
Love wasn't a part of the plan. Love was messy, it made you vulnerable, it took you by surprise. It had snuck up on me like a burglar in the night.
When I finally arrived at the hospital, I found my mother in the chapel, her petite form bowed in prayer. The glow of the candles cast flickering shadows over her lined face, lending a touch of serenity to the worry etched in her features. Her rosary was gripped tightly in her hands, the beads winking in the soft light as she worked through them.
"Mami," I said softly, not wanting to startle her.
She looked up, surprise giving way to relief. "Antonio," she breathed, reaching out to me for an embrace.
My mother, Pilar, had always been a portrait of quiet beauty. Her hair, once a lustrous cascade of auburn curls, had softened into a lighter, hazelnut hue over the years, streaked with elegant silver. A stark contrast to my father and me, with our dark hair and Mediterranean complexion.
Her skin, once kissed by the Spanish sun, had grown paler with age but still retained a lovely glow. It was a testament to her strength and resilience. Her eyes, the color of a cloudless sky, were brimming with worry when I met her at the chapel but glimmered with relief when she saw me.
