“You okay?” Fox asks when we get back home. “You’ve been really quiet.”
“I just…I’m going to miss this place and the people. I wish I had gotten to know them better. I was just starting to make some friends.”
* * *
—
Today is the day.
I’ve been waiting for this day for as long as I can remember and I’m terrified. We’re at the airport and I’m about to hand over my ticket to the teller and walk through the terminal, which means it’s the last opportunity I have to be with Fox and I’m nauseous. I may actually throw up. My nerves are everywhere and I have a huge knot in the pit of my stomach that won’t go away.
For the past two days he’s been in a great mood. Better than I’ve ever seen him. “It’s time, Lola,” he says with a smile.
“I guess it is.” And unlike him, I’m a wreck. I’m biting my nails and looking up at the screen with the boarding information. “Okay, yeah, so this is it.”
He smiles and says, “You ready? Passport? Documents? Tickets?”
“I’m all set.” And as strong as I’ve been trying to be, my lips wobble as I say it.
I wrap my arms around him and hold him tightly, as if it’s the last time I’ll ever see him. Which it may very well be. I’m off for three months, and he’ll be here working at a nightclub with hot and tempting women all around him. I’ve told him that this is temporary so many times that maybe he finally bought into it. I feel like a fool, pushing him away for two months instead of trying to pull him closer.
“Fox?” I say, looking up at him. I have no right to ask this from him. “I know I made the rules coming into this and I have no right to even say this but…” And I swallow. “Maybe when I get back…maybe we can…” I don’t finish because my throat closes and I feel like I can’t breathe. I can’t believe I’m saying goodbye to this man, who I’m head over heels in love with. I physically clench my chest with my palm because it hurts.
“You’ve told me you have possible opportunities to stay in the program after Ecuador. You may not even come back, right? Not for a long time.”
“I’ll be back for graduation and then I don’t know.” I could be back in three months or I could sign up to go elsewhere if I’m accepted. But still, I want to know that he wants more. It’s killing me that he’s acting as if this is it.
“Yeah, you’re right.” I can’t expect him to sit around and wait for me.
“Text me when you land,” he says.
I wipe under my eyes. “Okay.”
Again he smiles. And suddenly, it pushes me over the edge.
“Oh my God! What the hell is wrong with you!” I shove his shoulder. “Are you happy that I’m leaving? Why do you keep smiling at me? I’ve been crying for the last three days. I feel like my heart is breaking, I’m this close to canceling everything and staying, and you just keep smiling. Creepily, I’ll add.”
He runs his palm down his face and that stupid smile is gone. “Because of that right there. What you just said. You have to go. And I don’t want my feelings to get in the way of you leaving.”
I’m thoroughly confused. What is he saying?
He grabs the straps of my backpack and pulls me forward with such force, I almost fall. “Of course it’s fake, woman. I can’t even breathe. You’re leaving and you’re ripping my heart out and taking it with you. That’s how much it fucking hurts.” I can see the way his throat bobs, and I bet the lump in his throat is as thick as mine.
“Thank you for being miserable too. I thought I was being crazy.”
He shakes his head and I think his eyes are misty too. “You are fucking crazy but you’re my kind of crazy. I don’t know how I’ll survive without you but I will, and so will you, okay? I want you to have fun. Enjoy every single moment of it. Try to text or email as much as possible, and before you know it you’ll be back and you’ll be graduating and then we can talk, okay? See where your head is at and what you want to do post-grad, all right?”
He’s letting me go so that I’ll be happy. Yet, I don’t feel happy and I don’t want to let go.
He wipes my eyes for me, then kisses my lids one at a time and I kiss his lips a final time. I think I notice his eyes are a bit glassy too. “I’ll miss you, baby,” he signs, and I turn around and walk away from the only man I’ve ever loved.
Chapter 11
Fox
Lola has been gone for a week and I am so fucking miserable people literally turn and walk away from me when I’m near.
I’m at Duality, listlessly scanning the room when Iggy, David, Nick, and Matt walk in laughing. Nick spots me and signals for me to follow them.
“What’s up, bosses?” I ask once we’re all inside the office.
“Sit.” Nick gestures to an empty seat while David and Matt go to the wet bar and pour themselves a drink. “We just came from dinner,” Nick begins. “The girls are drinking in the VIP section. They’re going to be trouble, I bet.”
“Tell me about it.” David smiles. “My wife could use some fun, so I’m not complaining.”
“I’ll keep an eye on them. So what’s up?” I repeat.
“Iggy was supposed to be just a silent partner but as you’ve probably noticed, there’s nothing silent about him,” Nick mocks.
Iggy rolls his eyes with a smirk.
“He’ll be here at the club more often now. I’m stepping back a bit,” Nick says.
“Me too,” Matt says.
“They’re all about their women, those two,” Iggy says, full of disgust.
“Am I being fired or something?” I ask.
“No!” all the men say at once.
“Not at all,” David adds. “We just wanted to keep you in the loop. You’re an important member of the team.”
“Oh, all right. Cool. I appreciate it.”
“And also to warn you that Iggy’s a weird duck and now that you’re going to be working together full-time, you should be ready for that,” Matt says. “He’s inappropriate most of the time, he hangs out with unsavory people, and I have no idea what he does during his spare time. But he’s usually good people.”
“Fuck you. I’m not any weirder than you are.”
“Says the man who just showed a chick his bionic leg and said, ‘Ever fantasize about fucking Iron Man, doll?’ ”
Everyone laughs, including Iggy, who pulls up his pant leg to show me the metal prosthetic blade he’s wearing tonight instead of the flesh-colored prosthetic he’s worn before.
He must’ve seen something on my face because he says, “Take that sorry look off your face. I have a chick waiting at the bar to fuck Iron Man.”
I snort out a laugh. This guy is funny as shit. He has zero complex about his disability, something that Lola tries very hard not to have but by the way she hides from everyone, she very much does.
Lola. The thought sends a jolt of pain into my chest.
* * *
—
“Did you find an apartment yet?” I ask Iggy, who is sitting across from me. I know he’s been looking for a place to live but hasn’t had any luck.
“Nah. I haven’t had time to look.”
I sit back and watch him take a sip of his drink, not sure why he’s hanging out in my office.
“Actually, I’ve been wanting to talk to you.” It’s been three weeks since Iggy started working at Duality. He’s pretty hands-on, which surprises me. I thought he would stroll in and out and take home a check every week. He doesn’t step on my toes, but he is here a lot.
“What’s up?”
“Did you know that half of Panic came to Duality to work so that they’d be working for you and not Nick, who’s a grumpy motherfucker on a good day?”
I laugh. “Really?”
�
��That’s the rumor. Not sure if it’s because the women want to sleep with you or because you’re a cool boss, but regardless, that’s what I’ve heard.”
“Okay?” I’m unsure why we’re having this conversation. “Glad to hear that. I try to be fair and—”
“I’m not finished.” He cuts me off. “When I met you, I didn’t like you all that much. And it was completely based on the way you looked. No offense, man, but you gave off a total douche vibe. I think you are probably responsible for a lot of the ozone pollution with the amount of product in your hair and starch on your shirt.” I laugh even though he’s being a bit of a dick. “But when I got to know you, I realized you’re not like that. Except that now…you’re kind of a mess. When’s the last time you trimmed your beard? You’re looking like a caveman.”
I run my palm over my face. I can’t remember. Shit.
“You aren’t even wearing a jacket. It’s not required or anything but it’s just not like you. Is your head still in the game? From where I’m sitting, I think it’s not.”
Damn, I’ve fucked up. I dropped the ball. When did my job stop being a priority?
“I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
“The cute bartender who left? The reason you went from a badass sports car to a pussy-looking sedan?”
“It’s not a sedan.”
“Whatever, the point is, you’re obviously not in a great place right now.”
“What can I say? My girl left me and there was nothing I could do about it. I had to let her go to Ecuador to finish her master’s.”
“And you’re in Miami. You didn’t ask her to stay?”
“I couldn’t. Well, I did, but it was selfish of me. It would’ve been a dick thing for me to do again. This is her dream and she’s over there happy. Doing what she loves.”
“And you’re here, miserable.”
“This is where my job is.”
“Your job or your career?” He stands up and pats my shoulder hard. “I’d think about walking away from a woman for a career, and even then, I’d probably still follow her. But for a job? Fuck no. I’d be sweating my balls off in Ecuador with her. But that’s just me, man. Jobs come and go, good women come once in a lifetime. Trust me on that one.”
I let out a breath. “I’ve worked so hard for so long. I’m finally exactly where I want to be.”
“You’re exactly where you want to be? You sure about that? ’Cause from where I’m standing it looks like this is the last place you want to be.”
I sit there thinking about what he just said. Is this the last place I want to be? No, it’s not the last place I want to be, but it’s definitely not where I want to be right now.
But would she even want me there with her?
I’ve hardly had a chance to talk to her. We obviously can’t talk on the phone because of her hearing, and the Wi-Fi is spotty at best so the emails aren’t too frequent. Besides, she seems so happy and I don’t want to impose my misery on her, so I’m pretending everything is great here. But fuck, it’s not great. It sucks. I’m miserable and I hate every single thing about this.
“Listen. We want you here. You’re an asset. But man-to-man, you gotta do what you gotta do. No one’s going to think less of you if you go after her. Well, I might because I’m not pussy-whipped. But the other guys, they’d understand.”
He slaps my back and leaves me to my thoughts.
Lola
I’m looking down at my phone. I haven’t heard from Fox in a week but I also haven’t had Wi-Fi in a few days. I miss him so much and I just want to see his face. I hold my cellphone up and walk around the camp as if somehow that will help the reception but I have no service at all.
“I’ve been having issues with my phone too,” Simon signs. He’s another intern.
Ugh. I put my phone in my pocket and smile at Simon, who’s become a good friend over the last month.
“I heard there’s a new volunteer starting today,” Simon signs.
“Really?” I sign back. “Is she or he here for our program or something else?”
“Different program, I think.” There’s not just the World Deaf Education Project here, there are other projects and other volunteers in this small indigent village. There’s a sign language program, an English program, there are nurses, there are even volunteer soccer coaches.
In a country stricken by poverty, soccer is a way to have fun and keep kids on the right path. In fact, I’ve been playing every afternoon with the kids, and I find myself loving it. It’s hard for the hearing-impaired children because they can’t exactly hear the plays but I give them signals from the sidelines and now my little group of ten is feeling included. Now some of the other children sit and linger around my group, and have even picked up some signs and are starting to include my kids in the conversations using the rudimentary signs they’ve learned.
I’m out by the water pump cleaning some of my shirts when I feel the earth rattle under me. A car, I think. I wipe sweat off my forehead then throw some water on my face before taking my clothes to the clothesline to start hanging them to dry. There’s one particular shirt, one I stole from Fox’s closet, a plain T-shirt with Panic’s logo on the upper left side, that makes my heart ache. I wear it so often, it’s already faded from having to scrub it by hand over and over again with shitty soap and hard water.
With a painful bout of melancholy, I toss the shirt in my basket, then hoist the basket to my hip and start making my way back to my little home. I live with a host family, and they’ve been so kind, giving me a small room with its own door to the outside. The house is nothing but a well-structured hut with a bed, still it’s comfortable and private.
San Isidro is not exactly what I envisioned. I envisioned rain, mud, and bugs, since it is the Amazon. And yes, there is rain, mud, and bugs but it’s so much more. The colors are so vibrant it took time for my eyes to adjust. It’s as if I’ve been living in a world full of flat Technicolor and suddenly everything is high definition. The trees are not just green, they’re a vivid shiny emerald—and they’re so dense you can’t see past the branches, or what lurks within them. And there are colors on birds that I don’t even have words to describe. Every shade in the Crayola box is represented around my new home. What I wouldn’t give to hear the noises of this jungle, although I sometimes think it’s a blessing because they might scare me—the roar of jungle cats, the squawking of birds, and the crickets and whatever other animals lurk around.
I’ve taken so many photos and videos on my phone for Fox. I want him to see the toucan that lives in a tree by my room and to show him Carlitos, a little boy who was born with a cleft palette and a hearing impairment but kicks ass in the soccer games and has stolen my heart with his sweet smile. But I’m not sure if he received them. It’s not like in the United States. I’ve received a few texts from him as well but there’s a world between us and even with all the technology in our hands, I feel the distance intensely every morning when I wake up or when I see something I know Fox would love, or at night, when I go to sleep alone. I grew too used to Fox and now I don’t know how to live without him. Well, I know how, I just don’t necessarily want to.
My eyes well; they’ve been doing that lately, and I sniffle and awkwardly try to wipe my face with my shoulder as I round the corner to the village. I see a dilapidated white and yellow bus, the same one that brought me here, parked, and a group of villagers surrounding it. Then as the crowd parts I catch sight of a tall figure and I almost lose my footing when his eyes meet mine.
My breath catches and my heart starts to beat wildly.
Instead of rushing to me, like I want him to, he reaches into his pocket and tosses a paper plane my way. It lands right in my basket
I sniffle and smile as the entire village looks at me. Now he’s walking toward me, gesturing at the plane. I open it aw
kwardly with my one free hand. Having the love of my life on the other side of the world sucks.
My chin wobbles.
I agree. It does suck.
He’s close now but he has another paper plane which he tosses toward me. The kids from the village laugh as it loops up high then crashes to the ground. One of the kids picks it up and hands it to me.
I open it. I couldn’t fit my washer and dryer on the plane. But even without those things you love so much, I hope you’ll have me, because I’m here to stay.
With a very very watery laugh I nod and when I look up he has his thumb, index finger, and pinkie up and his ring and middle finger down, palm facing me and he moves it back and forth slightly. The sign for I love you.
For a second he just stands there, and I wonder if I’m seeing a mirage. He can’t be real. Handsome, well-dressed Fox in a little village in Ecuador wearing cargo shorts and a white tee? It can’t be possible.
But then I come back to reality and drop my basket and run full speed to Fox, who braces himself and opens his arms wide.
I collide with him, jumping onto him, and wrapping my legs around him. “I love you too. So much. I should have told you before I left,” I sob. “You’re here! Oh my God, Fox. Is it really you?” I can’t stop touching his face. My clever fox, he’s here. For me. “It’s you. You’re here.”
He wipes a tear from my face. We’re standing in the middle of the village, and he’s carrying me like I’m a spider monkey attached to him. “You’re crying.”
“I know.” I sniffle again. “I’m so happy to see you! I missed you so much.”
“I quit my job.”
“Oh my God, what!” I know I’m yelling but I can’t seem to give one single fuck about how I sound right now. The man lived for that job.
“I got a new job,” he says.
“You did?” I eye him suspiciously. “You came really far to tell me about your new career plans, Fox.”
“My job’s here. I start this week.”
Kiss Me Back Page 20