Found (Lost and Found #2, New Adult Romance) (Lost & Found)

by Nadia Simonenko

  We’re meeting her parents at the Statler Hotel, home to the university’s restaurant program. Cornell’s cafeterias are known for having great food, but the Statler restaurant blows them all away—not that we lowly students can ever afford to eat here, though. This is a treat from Maria’s parents to celebrate her graduation.

  Her brother Micah is waiting for us out front, and he hurries over to greet us as we approach.

  “My god, Maria,” he gushes. “My little sister’s all grown up and turned into a freakin’ supermodel or something. When the hell did that happen?”

  “Oh stop it,” she tells him, but she’s still wearing a big smile as she hugs him. I can’t help but smile at how easy and carefree their embrace is. Micah went and talked to her, didn’t he? He must have—the stifling awkwardness I saw in them this morning has completely vanished. Micah flashes me a brief, thankful smile as he hugs his sister, and I know it’s done. I’m glad.

  Maria returns to my side and elegantly hooks her arm through mine as the doorman invites us in.

  “Do they know yet?” whispers Micah, nudging his sister as we awkwardly enter the restaurant. I feel terribly out of place in here. I have no money, I’m wearing a second-hand suit and I couldn’t even afford to be here without financial aid. The ice sculpture of the school’s mascot stares at me from the buffet as if it knows I’m a fraud.

  “No, they don’t,” answers Maria, shaking her head.

  “Know about what?” I whisper in her ear.

  She’s quiet for a moment and then whispers back, “About Darren. I told Micah today, but I’m not telling my parents.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Micah’s furtive smile. I’m so glad they finally talked to each other.

  “Do you want me to tell them when we get back to Jersey?” he asks. “I could...”

  “No,” she cuts him off. “I’m not telling them. Not yet.”

  When we finally find the table, Maria’s parents are already there. Micah expertly grabs me by the arm and pulls me aside as his parents descend on Maria, doting over her, complimenting her dress, and extolling her beauty as she tries not to let her awkwardness show.

  “Maria, darling! I haven’t seen you in years and... oh look how much you’ve grown up!”

  Her mother’s accent is just as bad a Jersey stereotype in real life as it is on the phone, and Micah surreptitiously kicks me in the shin to keep me from laughing. I’m starting to get the impression that he’s been through this routine with his parents a few times before.

  I may have inherited almost all my characteristics from my mother, but Maria’s are split evenly across both her parents. She has her mother’s green eyes and pale complexion, and she clearly inherited her stature, straight black hair and the narrow nose from her father. Her father would be an astonishingly handsome man if he lost about forty pounds, but instead he gives off the vibe of a middle-aged, retired boxer with a penchant for buffets.

  When the tornado of parental exuberance finally dies down, Maria nervously clears her throat and waves me over to her.

  ”Mom, Dad... I’d like you to meet my boyfriend Owen.”

  She puts her arm around my waist and pulls me in beside her, and together, we hold our breath and wait for their reaction.

  Nothing.

  Still nothing.

  Come on already—say something. They’re just staring at me.

  “Oh how wonderful!” squeals her mother with almost infuriating excitement. “It’s so nice to meet you, Owen. I’m Abigail, but you can call me Abby.”

  As if he’d been waiting for his wife’s reaction, her father finally steps forward and greets me.

  “Nice to meet you, Owen,” he says, and he shakes my hand. “I’m Ramil.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Ayala.”

  “Aren’t they just such a lovely couple together?” prattles Maria’s mother. “Oh we just have to take a picture. Did you bring the camera, Ramil? Micah? Did anyone think to bring the camera? I think it’s out in the car, maybe. Or did I leave it at...”

  As her mother babbles on and on to her husband, Maria nuzzles my cheek and then kisses me softly.

  “Here we go,” she whispers. “The dinnertime challenge awaits.”

  We take our seats across from her parents and her father shoots me a look. I don’t need to be a mind-reader to know what that look meant. It was saying, “I saw my daughter kiss you, and I don’t approve one bit.”

  I smile awkwardly back at him and bury my face in the menu.

  The waiter arrives almost instantly and comes directly to me first. Great... it’s awkward enough having to eat with Maria’s parents in the first place, and now I have to be the first one to order? I haven’t even finished reading it yet and everything is so expensive that I don’t know what to get.

  “Ooh, what about this one?” asks Maria, reading my concerned look perfectly. She gently touches my shoulder and then points to the salmon on the menu. “You like fish, right?”

  “I’m sure he can pick for himself, dear,” chides her mother. Maria draws back from me and goes silent.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell the waiter. “I’m not ready yet. Come back to me at the end, please?”

  Maria presses her leg against mine under the table and smiles at me.

  “I’ll take the salmon and risotto please,” she says, and then she winks at me. God, I love her. She just did exactly what I needed and gave me the price range. As long as I stay below thirty-five dollars, I’m safe.

  “Cheeseburger and sweet potato fries. Rare,” orders Micah. “Extra ketchup, please.”

  His mother gives him the evil eye over his order, but he’s clearly used to it and doesn’t care. Ramil orders the goulash next and then finally Abby orders a large Caesar salad with the dressing on the side. Now it’s my turn again.

  “I’ll take the chicken parmigiana over ziti, please.”

  Maria nods approvingly. My twenty dollar pasta is a nice compromise between Maria’s salmon and Micah’s burger. As the waiter leaves, Maria’s father adds a bottle of champagne to the order.

  Now begins the awkward silence.

  As if trying to help take the pressure off of Maria and me, Micah digs greedily into the basket of bread with far more enthusiasm and significantly less manners than is warranted. Maria laughs as he stuffs his face, and I try not to grin her as Abby tries to decide who deserves the evil eye more—her raucous son or her giggling daughter who’s egging him on.

  “Tell me, Owen,” starts Maria’s father, raising an eyebrow, “what are your plans now that you are done at Cornell? You were doing your master’s degree, correct?”

  “I’m starting on my PhD at Harvard this fall,” I explain. “Theoretical and applied statistics.”

  “And with that degree, you’ll do what, exactly?”

  “Ideally, I’ll get into research analytical support when I’m done, but realistically, I’ll probably get scooped up by some investment bank when it’s over. Happens to most of us.”

  “Well, at least you’ll get paid very well for that,” states Maria’s mother, and I nod back to her.

  “Very true. It’s not my ideal outcome, but there are worse problems to have.”

  Maria and I glance at each other, and I instantly know we’re thinking the same thing.

  “No fucking kidding.”

  “You know, I think that investment banking is a perfectly noble cause,” says Abby. “A friend of mine works for this wonderful firm out in Connecticut and...”

  Maria’s mother starts into a long, winding, and completely incomprehensible story about someone she knows and how great this person’s life is and how whoever the hell this is retired at age thirty-five and...

  ...and Micah is making faces at her while she’s not paying attention.

  I bite my lip and try not to smile or laugh. Damn it, Micah, it’s hard enough to pay attention to her in the first place, so stop making it harder. The moment Abby’s story ends, Micah instantly reverts to a look
of bored detachment. I barely know him and I love him already.

  “And how about your parents?” she asks. “I didn’t see them at graduation and I’m surprised you’re not celebrating with them tonight. Where are they?”

  Maria looks over at me in worry, and I squeeze her hand under the table. I’m okay. I’ve got this.

  “They both died a long time ago,” I answer. “I’ve been paying my way through college ever since I was a freshman. Scholarships, financial aid, work-study... you know, that kind of stuff.”

  It’s mostly true. I have been paying my own way through college, and even though Mom only recently died, it feels as if years have passed since Maria saved me at the bridge.

  “Oh how industrious!” exclaims Abby.

  Maria turns bright red in embarrassment. She looks so humiliated right now. It’s always hard to figure out what to say when someone tells you his parents are dead, but her mother’s answer will never be the right answer.

  “Well... I didn’t do it entirely on my own,” I say, turning to Maria with a smile. “I broke my hand a few months ago and Maria fed me until my paychecks paid off the hospital bill.”

  Maria’s long since told me to stop thanking her for that, but I’m not stopping any time soon.

  “Oh?” asks her father. “How’d you break it?”

  “Oh, it was just an accident.”

  “Was it the same accident that left that scar on your face?” asks her mother.

  “Mom!” gasps Maria.

  “I was just curious!” she defends herself. “Can’t a gal be curious?”

  “Different accidents,” I answer. “The scar is from a long time ago.”

  All of them are. They’re from a full lifetime ago.

  Our food arrives and the spotlight shifts away from me and instead to Maria’s new job in Boston. Now it’s my turn to be the supportive one, and I squeeze her hand under the table. Her father wants to know all the details about her new job, and she dives in and starts explaining all the laboratory work she’s going to be doing for them. I have no idea what half of what she’s saying means, and I take the moment to zone out and enjoy my dinner.

  “It’s still an entry-level role, but it’s way higher than most people with only a bachelor’s degree get when they start work,” finishes Maria. “I’ll still be working under a...”

  “Wait, working under someone else after graduating from an Ivy League school?” interrupts her mother. “I assumed you’d at least be entering as a senior scientist, not an underling.”

  I hold her hand again, and she squeezes back tightly and maintains the pressure.

  “Maybe once upon a time that was true,” she says in a controlled, tempered tone, “but nowadays, no PhD means you don’t start in a senior role. Maybe they’ll promote me, but who knows. I’ll do a year or two in industry and then decide if I want to go back to grad school then.”

  Her mother mutters something under her breath too quietly for me to make out, but it can’t have been pretty. She has impossibly high expectations for her daughter.

  Maria is biting the inside of her lip; I recognize that look. I know how tense she feels around her mother and I’m so proud of her for holding it together so well tonight. There’s another aspect of her career ambitions that she’s confided in me that I know she can’t tell her parents—at least not yet.

  She doesn’t want to be a senior scientist right now.

  Maria likes to stay out of the spotlight and being a senior scientist means giving presentations and ordering around the lower-ranked scientists. It isn’t time for that yet—it’s time for her to start her life and finally figure out where she wants to go from there.

  Micah clears his throat and interrupts the career disagreement as he stands up.

  “I have to go get a few things from the car, like... oh... a graduation present for a certain little sister of mine,” he says, grinning happily at Maria. “Owen, could you please give me a hand carrying things in?”

  I glance over at Maria to make sure she’ll be okay and she smiles back at me. She’s going to be fine.

  “Sure,” I say, grateful for the reprieve from awkward dinner conversation, and I get up to follow him.

  “Don’t forget to look for the camera,” Abby calls after us.

  I follow Micah out to the lobby, out the front door, and then he stops dead in his tracks, turns around and hugs me. All I can think to do is stand in place, completely dumbfounded. What on earth was that for?

  “Hey, I wanted to make sure I got a chance to thank you,” he says, smiling gratefully as he releases me from the awkward hug. “Thank you so much for getting Maria talking to me again, and even more, for being so good to her.”

  “I... well, I’m not doing anything special,” I stammer. I’m not. All I’m doing is treating her the way I want to treat her—loving her the way she deserves to be loved. Whether she believes it or not, she’s too good for me. She saved my life, and I don’t deserve her.

  “Oh don’t give me that,” he says, rolling his eyes at me. “Have you seen yourselves together? Jesus Christ, Owen, you’re fucking perfect for each other.”

  I try to thank him but he cuts me off and keeps going.

  “There’s more than just what Mom sees, though—the whole ‘oh look how cute they are’ shit she always does,” he says. “Now that I know what that fucker did to Maria, I see the rest of what you two have. Estranged or not, I know my sister and I can see how important you are to her. You two have something really special, Owen.”

  I feel a smile spreading from ear to ear at Micah’s praise. I may only be doing what comes naturally with Maria, but it still feels good to hear that someone approves.

  “Oh, just so you know,” he adds, “I’ve brought home enough girls to recognize that look my parents gave you—they don’t approve of you, and I know exactly why.”

  “Wait, what? Why not?”

  A lump forms in my throat as I ask and I’m not sure if I want to know the answer.

  “Look, here’s the thing—they know that something’s... different... about Maria. We all knew that. We’ve known it since her personality changed back when she was fifteen,” explains Micah, shaking his head bitterly at the end.

  I want to tell him that it wasn’t his fault but I know he won’t believe me. He’ll just tell me that he should have taken better care of her—that he shouldn’t have left her alone while he was at class. He has to learn to convince himself that he can be forgiven.

  Just like I have to learn with Samantha and Mom.

  He starts for the car and keeps talking along the way.

  “The Maria they know is an antisocial, scared, depressed girl who can hardly go out in public, and then tonight she suddenly shows up looking healthy and happy and with a boyfriend in tow. Not just any boyfriend either—a guys she’s clearly devoted to,” continues Micah. “You should see how she looks at you, Owen. It’s like... wow.”

  “Then why don’t they...”

  Micah cuts me off as we reach his car, a rusty white Honda Civic at the end of the row.

  “Because they don’t trust you, Owen,” he says. “They desperately want Maria to be normal again. You two aren’t normal. You’re awesome, but you’re not normal.”

  He’s right... we’re not normal. Normal people don’t complement each other the way we do, don’t find the missing parts and make each other whole. Normal people don’t save each other when they’re about to step off the edge.

  “Owen, I don’t know where you came from or how Maria found you, but I’ve never seen a couple like the two of you before. You’re perfect for each other. That’s why they disapprove.”

  “So because we’re so perfect for each other, they won’t want us to be together?” I ask in complete shock. “What do I need to do to get them...”

  “You don’t do anything,” he answers, interrupting me. “I’ve never once convinced my mother of anything in thirty years. You have to let them decide for themselves.”


  Micah pops the trunk of his car and starts rummaging through the pile of boxes inside.

  “You want to know what I think you should do?” he calls back to me over his shoulder.

  “Of course I want to know,” I reply, and he spins around to face me again.

  “You hold onto Maria and never, ever let her go,” he tells me in a low, serious tone. “Do your own thing together and don’t worry whether they accept you or not.”

  He turns away and dives back into the trunk again, finally emerging with two large, gift-wrapped boxes and his mother’s camera. I take one box, he takes the other, and together we walk back to the restaurant.

  “And anyway,” he says, “If I ever bring Jackie home to meet them, they’ll forget all about disliking you and go off at me. How dare I date a punk waitress with more tattoos than normal skin?”

  Micah mimics what I assume must be his mother’s gasp of dismay, and then he grins as I start to laugh. I love him. He’s practically a cartoon character.

  “So where’d you meet Jackie?”

  “Stag party for a buddy of mine,” he answers with a grin. “Best man took us all out to a burlesque show and she was our table’s waitress. Something just sort of clicked when we talked, and next thing I knew, I had her phone number. Been together for about a year now.”

  “Awesome.”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty great,” he agrees. “But enough about me. There’s plenty of time for that later. Before we go back inside, remember: you and Maria are perfect for each other, and if I don’t get a wedding invite some day, I’m gonna hunt you down and slap both of you for being dumbasses.”

  He grins at me as I stare speechlessly at him, and then he adds, “No pressure or anything, though.”

  “You’re a jerk, you know that?”

  “Yep,” he answers with an even bigger grin, and he heads back inside.

  Maria’s eyes light up as we return with her graduation presents, but as I put them down next to her chair, I suddenly realize that she’s not even looking at them.

  She’s looking at me.

  I’ve never felt so special in my life.

  Could I really end up marrying her someday? I can see myself being with her in the future. No... a better question: can I see myself without Maria in the future?