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“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve—” I hesitated, wanting to protect Winter as much as possible from how screwed up my life had become. “I’ve been thinking a lot about my life, about what I’m doing with it, where it’s going, and if I’m really happy. I’ve thought about it, and I want what Grandma Rosa and Grandpa Pablo had. I want to be a stay-at-home mom, to raise my family and be there for them instead of working all the time like Mom did.”
“With Ramón?”
Again, I hesitated. I hadn’t told my family that we were no longer speaking. First, it was embarrassing to have someone just ghost on you like that. Second, my Mom was really happy with my relationship and asked all the time how he was doing. I hated to admit it even to myself, but there was a tiny part of me that still hoped he’d come through the door at any minute. That I’d wake up in bed with him at my side.
A pang of hurt lanced from my heart to my stomach, but I swallowed past the pain. “Maybe with Ramón. We haven’t been dating forever like you and Paul.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. But you’re so…driven about school. I thought you loved being a teacher? You’d give up all you’ve done, all you’ve gone to school for, to be a mom?”
I thought of the ideal life I’d imagined with Ramón and said without hesitation, “In a few years, absolutely.”
“Wow…I think you’ll be an amazing mom, but I also thought you’d be a great teacher. Don’t you like teaching anymore?”
Standing, I slowly paced along the wide, long cement back porch, moving in and out of the shadows of dim light coming from hidden spotlights while keeping my eyes open for scorpions and snakes attracted by the pool.
“Well, I do and I don’t. There are parts of being a teacher that I love, but the more I get into it, the more I realize being a classroom teacher isn’t what I want to do.”
“Well then, what do you want to do?”
The feeling of being in Ramón’s arms flashed through me and my voice came out thick as I said, “I don’t know anymore.”
“Are you crying?”
“No,” I sniffed and wiped my face. “I’m fine.”
“What’s going on with you? You’ve been weird over the past few weeks.”
“It’s nothing,” I said in a flat voice.
“Joy,” Winter snapped. “What is going on? Is the guy you’re staying with creeping on you? Do you need help?”
The thought of my sweet sister trying to rescue me from my situation made me laugh. “No, no creeping going on. I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Really, I’m oaky. It’s just…boy problems.” I decided to give her part of the truth.
“What happened? Did Ramón cheat on you? Need me to nut punch him?”
“No, no. Thank you, but no. It’s fine. He went on a business trip and hasn’t been in touch in a few weeks. At first he’d text me and call me all the time, telling me he missed me, then radio silence.”
“Ugh, that’s not good.”
“I mean, Ramón’s in like some South American jungle or something, so he told me he’d be out of contact, but I didn’t think it would be for this long.”
“Maybe he really is someplace where they don’t have reception. Those places do exist, you know. And, I mean a few weeks isn’t that long. Then again, do you think he’s really away on business or just avoiding you?”
“No, he’s away on business. At least, I think he is.” I groaned and rubbed my eyes. “God, I don’t know if he was playing me, or if any of it was real, but I miss him, and I really wish he’d contact me and let me know what the fuck is going on.”
A sense of relief filled me as I made my way back to my lounge chair and now probably warm iced tea. I hadn’t been able to talk to anyone about Ramón, not even Hannah. She’d been so hurt, and her healing had been so rough on her, that when she finally came home to Leo’s place, I wanted her to be happy—not worried about me and my totally screwed up love life. I mean, in the grand scheme of things, who gave a fuck about my wounded heart when we had the shit beat out of us?
As far as I knew, no one had ever mentioned that Ramón and I were dating to Hannah. Shit, we’d only been together for a little while, so I knew I was blowing it all out of proportion in my head, but I’d really felt a connection to Ramón. Whenever I was at the Cordovas’, they wouldn’t talk about him unless I brought it up, then it was just brief and polite. Like I was a stranger asking about his life rather than his girlfriend. The things he said, the way he touched me, the way he looked at me, had all seemed so real. But how real could it be if he didn’t let his family know how important I was to him?
