“Why did he hit you?” Diego’s lower lip starts to tremble, and it takes everything I have not to fall apart.
All he wants is the family he used to know—the love of his parents. If anyone understands that, it’s me.
“Your dad has a p-problem in his m-mind.”
He blinks slowly, his thick dark lashes long enough to touch the top of his cheek. “Like your stutter?”
“A little different, but yes. He loves you so much that he’s t-trying to get better. But it takes t-time. And a lot of work.”
“So he can’t come back home to live with us?”
“No. But he’ll always be your d-dad. That will never change, no matter what.”
Even if that’s not enough. Even if Diego deserves more. The harshest truth is that every parent’s love hits the wall of their own limitations. My father gave me life, but he couldn’t and wouldn’t do more. At least Marco fights tooth and nail to stay in the game.
Diego nods and kicks at the leg of the table with his toe. “Are we gonna draw anymore?” His thought train has jumped to another track. Or maybe in his mind these are related topics?
“Do you want to?”
He nods. Kick, kick, kick.
“Then we’ll draw. Here.” I grab my messenger bag and hand him the picture I finished a long time ago, but forgot to give him.
“You gave mommy wings,” he says.
“Seemed like she d-deserved them.”
He traces the tip of one wing with his finger. “But then why does she need to ride a dragon?”
“For the fire, obviously,” I say, nudging him with my arm.
He pushes his lips out as he thinks and then he breaks into a smile so big, so bright, it fills me up all the way to the top.
How could I not have realized how much I would miss him? How much he’s come to mean to me?
I pull him in for a hug. “No m-matter what, Diego, I’m your friend.”
“Okay. I’m a good friend.”
“I already know that.”
His back feels fragile under my big hands, but his arms are surprisingly strong when he wraps them around my neck. This is not like any other hug I’ve had in my life, but it’s one of the best. Ever.
I imagine how strong those arms will be at ten, at fifteen, and when he’s my age. I want to be around to see that—to help him become a man. I think he’d let me.
The question is, will Eva?
Chapter 26: Eva
When everything in my life falls apart, I go home. I warn my Mom I’m coming to her, and that it won’t be pretty.
“Just get here,” she tells me.
Dad folds me up in his arms when I arrive, so Diego runs to him for his own hug.
“There’s a new ice cream store not far from here,” Dad tells him. “How about we walk Gordi down there?”
Diego’s almost out the door before Dad finishes his sentence.
“I thought we could use a little time to ourselves,” Mom says, setting a plate of buñuelos down on the coffee table. It’s the same oak table they’ve had for at least twenty years.
My mother thinks anything can be cured with food. When I bite into the flaky crust and it dissolves in a cloud of sugar and cinnamon on my tongue, I think maybe she’s right. Like homemade tamales and tortillas, these are the taste of home.
She sits on the couch next to me, her long legs crossing over each other until one tucks behind the other, and then hands me a napkin. “What happened?”
I set my food down and flop back on the couch. “Marco had a relapse, I screwed everything up with Ryan, and I need to quit my job.”
“Oh, is that all?” She wipes a speck of cinnamon off of her pants.
She stays quiet as I tell her about Marco, but when I get to my confrontation with Ryan, she lets loose.
“Evita, think of how he feels. You said his brother is with his ex-girlfriend. And now you’re making him compete with another man again.”
“I’m not. There’s no competition.”
“Then let Marco go,” Mom says.
“I have.” I pick at my nail, but she puts one hand over mine to stop me.
“Who helped Marco straighten out his insurance problem? Who drove him to and from the mechanic when his car broke down?”
I thought when I left Marco, I stopped enabling him. I was so proud of all those boundaries I thought I established. And I was so wrong; emotionally, I still think of myself as his fallback. I never really gained my independence.
“What about Diego?”
“That’s what supervised visits are for. If Marco can get himself together, he can ask the court to change that.”
She’s right, as usual. “It’s my fault that Ryan got into this mess. Marco could’ve really hurt him.”
“Ryan wanted to be with you. Everyone’s responsible for their own decisions. Stop being a control freak.”
“Yeah, wonder where I got that from?”
I pull Mom into a hug so I can have a few more moments of comfort.
I welcome how quiet the house is. It’s also spotless now that my mother has no more children inhabiting it. It’s more house than my parents need at this point, and I wonder for the first time if they only hold onto it because we grew up here and this is where our family memories are.
I want that, too. Walls that have height charts marked on them and spots where the paint is faded from stickers that were attached and torn off. Children and grandchildren coming home for the holidays, or dropping by for Sunday barbecues. And a man to be my partner in that life.
“I love him, Mom. He’s a good person.”
“Those don’t come around every day, so you better go after him. But be sure, Evita, because that boy’s been through a lot.”
“Whose side are you on?”
She smooths her hair back. “Ahh, he doesn’t have a mother to take his side. Plus, you’re a tough bird. I don’t worry about you.”
I kiss her cheek. “You’re a champ. Can I leave Diego here with you today?”
“Anytime. I’ll pack up some buñuelos for you.”
I eat two more on the way home. I’m going to need them.
* * *
Marco’s voice is ragged when he answers the phone. He’s probably gone through a lot in the last few days. He’s not the only one.
His emotional state is not your responsibility. His emotional state is not your responsibility.
I’m going to believe this, even if I have to get it tattooed on my forehead.
“We need to talk,” I say—a phrase zero people on the planet like to hear.
“I know. I’m at my parents’. Can you come by here?”
His family’s house, with its Turkish carpets and flawless decor. The perfect facade for a family in chaos. “You’re asking me to walk into the lion’s den.”
“I can’t drive on my medication, and we need to talk.”
“I don’t feel safe being alone with you.”
“Please, Eva.” His voice cracks. “My mom is here and I saw Dr. Phillips yesterday. We can talk outside if that makes you feel better.”
I can tell his distress is genuine, but I’m immune to Marco’s pleading—my heart hardened by the sight of his fist connecting with Ryan’s face. More than anything, though, I want his hold over me to come to an end. I want to be free.
“I’ll be there in ten.”
* * *
“I’m filing a request with the court to make your visits with Diego supervised,” I say.
We’re on the porch at Sofia’s house, surrounded by her tasteful outdoor furniture, but the familiar surroundings do nothing to soften the blow. Marco flinches and puts one hand on his stomach.
“I would never hurt him.”
“Willingly. But you also said you’d never go off your meds.”
Marco covers his face. “I know.” His voice is sad and small as he speaks through his fingers. I may need to put distance between us, but I’m not a monster. I would feel empathy for anyone in this
much pain.
I put my hand on his and he grips my fingers. “When you’re better, we can change the agreement. Your doctor will have to sign off, but you’ll be able to go back to your weekends.”
He nods, his pain putting him past the point of words.
“I’m not doing this to hurt you. I should have put better boundaries up between us. I wasn’t trying to give you false hope. I was doing the best I could.”
“I miss our family. So much,” he says. “How will I ever get over that?”
The wind picks up and blows a strand of hair in my face. “Focus on what you have and what you stand to lose, including a son who thinks you’re amazing.”
“God,” he says, “the look on his face when he saw me fighting . . .” He shakes his head back and forth, like he’s trying to rid himself of the image. Marco’s been waging a battle with himself for a long time. I hope more than anything that he can find peace.
I don’t comfort him with a hug. I can’t do that anymore. So I comfort him as a friend, putting my hand gently on his shoulder.
“I fucked up so bad, Eva. With you, with Diego.”
“Remember our second date?” I ask him.
That stops him short. “Yeah, because you made me go see a rom-com. But I knew you were worth it.”
“Except you forgot your wallet.”
He shakes his head. “I felt like a fucking idiot. I begged the manager to let me come back and pay.”
Marco pleaded with him for ten minutes. “This beautiful woman deserves to see a movie,” he told the manager. He called me beautiful at least ten times that night. It was all such a rush, until I realized after we got married that there was nothing underneath it. No foundation to build a future on.
“And I paid instead and told you not to worry. That I gave major points for trying. And you’re still trying, Marco—so hard.”
He squeezes my hand. “You’ve been a good friend to me. Maybe we would have been better as friends.”
“We rushed into our marriage and we shouldn’t have.”
“What did we know? We were too young.”
“It gave us Diego.”
He nods. Diego is the best of me and Marco, and he’s all that’s left of our love now.
“I have to let you go,” I say. “You can’t drop by anymore. No phone calls unless they’re about Diego. I’m not going to check on you, or nag you about appointments.”
Marco scoops me into a hug. “I’ll find a way to get by without you, Eva. But I’ll miss you.”
Sofia is standing in the doorway, quiet but fierce like the eye of a tornado.
“I want you to go. Now.” Her eyes are dark serpentine slits.
No matter how venomous she’s being, I get it. I really do. I’m causing her son pain, and all she cares about is making it stop.
“Mom, don’t.” Marco stands up.
“Hasn’t she hurt you enough?” Sofia’s purse slips off her shoulder and onto the ground without her noticing.
“It’s not her fault.” Marco turns to me. “I’ll take this from here. You should go.”
I grab my bag and rush past Sofia. She doesn’t try to stop me. I take one last look at her pinched, angry face, and mentally wish Marco luck.
I’ve got my own battle to fight.
* * *
I peek out the window, but Ryan’s car is still not outside. He and I are ships passing in the night. When he’s here, I’m at work, and by the time he finally gets home, I’m already in bed. I’m not sure if Ryan is doing that on purpose, or not. Either way, I’m keeping my eye out for him.
I could text him and ask him to meet me, but for some reason my courage has deserted me. I’m scared he’ll say no, or that when we do finally talk he won’t believe that I’m clearing Marco out of my life. Or that he’ll decide I’m too much work, too much worry, or that he’s already dating a coed whose biggest concern is getting a paper in on time.
All this self-doubt is exhausting.
“How about we go out to dinner tonight?” I ask Diego, who’s drawing on the floor.
“Can we go to the lobster tank?”
There’s a fish and chips place where you can watch live lobsters in a tank. Diego can’t get enough of them. Maybe he hasn’t made the connection yet that they become food.
“Let’s do it.”
Diego is quiet on the ride over, as he has been since the fight. I’ve tried to reassure him he’ll see Marco soon, once daddy feels good again. Kids, though—they see through your crap. Diego knows all the things I’m not saying. He understands them intuitively, in his bones, and he doesn’t sit around questioning himself. So he knows his parents are hurting and that everything has changed. Maybe he feels like he’s standing on sand instead of concrete.
And he misses his dad.
We get to the restaurant early enough to avoid the crowds. We order a ton of fried food at the counter that they load onto trays. When we turn the corner to get a table, I spot two familiar faces sitting at a four top. Jude and Lizzie.
I turn to the left and then the right, like an animal about to dart onto the freeway. I don’t want to snub Lizzie, but there’s no way in hell I’m eating with Jude.
Too bad I’m out in the open and Lizzie already spotted me.
“Hey, Eva,” she says, gesturing with both hands.
Jude turns and serves me up his steely stare.
I approach the table like a woman going to her own hanging. “Hey, uh, this is my son, Diego. Diego, this is Jude and Lizzie. Jude is Ryan’s brother.”
Diego eyes him up and down. “You don’t look like brothers.”
Lizzie laughs. “I didn’t think so either!”
Diego decides that’s an invitation and plops into the seat next to Lizzie, leaving me standing by myself like a fool. I have no choice but to sit next to Jude.
Silence descends on the table with a thud.
“So Diego, what grade are you in?” Lizzie asks, picking up the ball and running with it.
“I’m six.” He starts stacking the sugar packets on the table. “Mommy, can we go to the lobster tanks?”
“Can I go with you?” Lizzie asks. “I want to see them, too.”
No way can Diego pass up that offer. Lizzie shoots Jude a stern look, and then she and Diego make their way across the room to the two giant tanks. Lizzie even pulls up two chairs so Diego can get a good look.
And still, Jude doesn’t speak.
“Honestly, I have no idea how you lured her away from Ryan,” I finally say, because screw it, I owe this guy nothing at this point. “She is so far out of your league.”
His laugh is genuine. “Very true.”
His eyes soften as he looks at her. His mouth opens slightly and the corners tilt up. His visible, intense love for her transforms him into a person instead of a cartoon villain.
“Diego’s pretty cute,” Jude says.
“Gee, thanks.”
“Elizabeth’s going to want some of those.” He gestures vaguely toward Diego. “Look at her.”
Lizzie is pointing to individual lobsters, explaining something to Diego that has him engrossed.
“She’s a natural. You want kids someday?”
And how did we end up having this intensely personal conversation?
He shrugs, but it’s not a casual blow off. He’s clearly conflicted.
“It couldn’t have been easy having him that young,” he says.
“No. Late nights and diapers aren’t all that popular with other twenty-year-olds.”
“I can relate. Not to the diapers, but the general idea.” He takes a long drink of what looks like water.
There’s not a crease on Jude. Not a hair out of place. This is a man who likes to be in control. I guess that makes sense since he’s never had any.
“I know you can.”
He sets his water down emphatically, like he’s come to a decision. “I may have been wrong. About you.”
He finally has the decency to look embarrassed.
/>
“Oh, brother.” I laugh harder than I have in weeks. “Don’t trouble yourself. Ryan broke up with me.”
“You think that’s what I want?”
“Isn’t it?”
He blows out a breath. “He’s never gone as long without talking to me as he did after that fight we had about you.”
“Okay, and?”
Over at the lobster tank, Lizzie stops Diego from putting his hand in the water.
“You matter to him.”
I stare at my cold fries. “Not sure how much, considering we’re not together.”
Jude leans back and crosses his arms. “You think he should make it easy for you? After everything he’s been through?”
I push my food away. “No. I screwed up. But none of that matters if you’re working against us. You’re the most important person in his life.”
Jude moves the malt vinegar bottle in a figure eight. “What can I say? This wouldn’t have been my first choice for him.”
Hard point to argue. “I get that.”
Jude puts the salt and pepper next to each other again. “But then I remembered something.”
“What?”
Jude turns and looks at me full-on, finally. It’s a hard face not to like, especially when he’s dropping his guard. “He’s not me. Ryan is really good at all this. Caring about other people. That’s what he does.”
“You raised him well.”
He waves a hand at me. “Mom did the heavy lifting. I was just an assist.”
And Ryan’s father figure. And his best friend. I know how much Ryan relies on Jude, but I never considered how much Jude needs Ryan.
“So you won’t hate me if I go after him?” I ask.
“You better fucking go after him or you’re crazy. But don’t hurt him. He’s had too many people do that already.”
I can tell Jude’s including himself in that list, meaning his guilt over Lizzie lingers. I guess that wound will take a bit longer to heal.
Lizzie and Diego come back from the lobster tank, Diego telling us all about how lobsters can regrow their claws and taste with their legs.
“They’re also cannibals,” Diego says, as if we all missed the memo.
Jude shrugs. “Guess I would be too under the right circumstances.”
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