His Perfect Partner

by Priscilla Oliveras

She responded by sliding her arms around his waist, burrowing her face into his chest. His breath caught as he felt her burrowing deeper into his heart. Panic flared, his flight instinct kicking into high gear.

  Doggedly he ignored it. The only thing that mattered right now was this woman, her family, and the support they needed. Anything else slipped off the radar of importance.

  The front doorbell rang and Yaz flinched.

  “I’ll get it. You stay here with Rosa.” He combed a hand down her silky hair, swiped a tear from her cheek with the back of his hand.

  “Gracias. I don’t know if I . . . without you . . . ay, thanks.”

  “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” Bending down he pressed a kiss to her brow.

  Things were about to get even more difficult for her and her sisters. God help him, he’d do anything he could for them. He may have already been burning the candle at both ends, but the flames were about to get bigger.

  As much as it pained him to say, Rey’s time was drawing to an end. No way would Tomás leave Yazmine to deal with everything alone. If it was the only thing he could do for her, he’d be there for her to lean on, for as long as she needed him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Yazmine sat on the edge of Papi’s bed, smoothing the damp washcloth across his brow, wiping away beads of sweat. He shivered underneath the layers of blankets covering him, murmuring incoherent words in his sleep. She shushed him soothingly, then went back to humming along with the Los Paisanos tune playing softly through the speaker on Papi’s dresser.

  It’d been five days since they’d had to call Dr. Lopez and the paramedics to the house. Papi had refused to go to the hospital, but thankfully a hospice nurse had come to show Yaz and the girls how to care for him. She was still afraid of being in over her head, drowning in what-ifs, but if Papi wanted to be at home, then she was determined to do whatever she could to make him comfortable.

  Despite her best efforts, each day he’d progressively gotten worse. The blood when he coughed meant the cancer had metastasized to his lungs when it had already begun attacking his liver. The nurse had bluntly told them that it was only a matter of time.

  Yaz blinked back her tears. She refused to give in to the despair threatening to drag her under. Papi’s lucid moments were few and far between now. If he woke up, she didn’t want him to find her a blubbering mess of tears and snot. It would only make him worry more.

  She was rinsing the washcloth in the bowl on his nightstand when the bedroom door creaked open. Rosa slipped through, a tray of food in her hands.

  “Has he woken up again?” she whispered.

  Yaz shook her head, afraid her voice would give away her anxiety. She didn’t want to worry Rosa. Papi’s quick decline was already taking a toll on her sisters.

  None of them had slept much. They’d eaten even less. Their days and nights had been spent here in Papi’s room, sleeping on the floor or in the recliner Tomás had helped her lug up the stairs from the living room.

  Rosa set the tray on the dresser, carefully lining it up so all the edges matched precisely. She fidgeted with the knickknacks Papi kept. Angling this picture a little, straightening that comb. She turned the music down, then back up again before brushing at some nonexistent dust on the speaker. Her neat-freak compulsion, by her own admission her coping mechanism, was in fine form. But looking at her sister, Yaz could tell her coping mechanism wasn’t helping much.

  Rosa’s normally wavy, shoulder-length pageboy cut looked more like a bird’s nest of brown sticks. Dark circles framed her sad eyes. Worse, she’d been wearing the same blouse for two days, even though she’d spilled tomato soup on it yesterday.

  Rosa moved around the room, tucking in the bottom edge of a sheet, bending down to pick up Papi’s house slippers. Busying herself with mundane tasks to avoid reality.

  Yaz gnashed her teeth, this close to screaming at her sister to stop. Sit down. Quit fussing.

  Yet she knew that would only upset Rosa, and then Yaz would feel worse.

  “¿Donde, donde está?”

  Yaz sucked in a sharp breath at Papi’s raspy-voiced question, her attention immediately zeroing in on him.

  Rosa dropped a slipper, hurrying over to the other side of the bed.

  “Where’s who, Papi?” Yaz combed her fingers through the graying hair at his temple.

  His gaze shifted from her to Rosa and back again. “Necesito—”

  His body convulsed in a fit of coughs, and Yaz pressed a tissue into his hands to catch the speckle of blood.

  It was several minutes before he fell back against his pillows. Exhaustion and pain left his features haggard and drawn. His eyes fluttered closed.

  Yaz wiped his brow with the wet washcloth again, murmuring soothing sounds. “It’s okay, Papi. Don’t talk. Get some rest.”

  Rosa clasped his hand, her face a mask of fear and desperation. “Estamos aquí, Papi. We’re right here.”

  “Necesito a las tres.”

  He needed all three of them. That’s why he’d been asking for someone a few minutes ago.

  “Rosa, go get Lilí, please. She went to her room to check her email, see if she’d heard back from her professors.”

  Rosa scrunched up her face in a mutinous scowl, looking more like a preteen Lilí when she hadn’t gotten her way. “I don’t want to leave him. What if he’s asleep again when I come back?”

  “No, nena, estoy bien.” Papi’s coughing attack resumed, deep hacking sounds that did nothing to make the girls think he was “okay.” When he finally spoke again he had a hard time catching his breath. “I need, to see, all three, three of you. Por favor.”

  Her sister was out the door before Papi took another shallow breath.

  Yaz stayed at his side, grateful for whatever time she had left with him. What she really wanted was to curl up next to him, like she’d done as a little girl when she’d had a bad dream. Mami and he used to let her climb into their bed, and he would sing softly to her until she fell asleep.

  Grief overwhelmed her and Yaz leaned down to place a kiss on his brow.

  His eyes fluttered open as she sat up. “Eres una nena buena.”

  “It’s Yaz, Papi, not Rosa. She’s the good one, remember?”

  His dry lips curved in a sad smile. “I know who you are.” He stopped, wincing with pain. When he spoke again, his voice sounded scratchy and raw. “Mi estrellita.”

  “Sí, Papi. I’m your little star.” Yaz bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. “You and me, headed straight to the top.”

  “I am headed, higher, now.”

  Anguish knifed through her. Yaz pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to stifle her moan of desperation.

  “Papi, I’m here.” Lilí raced into the room, skidding to a halt at the end of the bed. Dressed in sweatpants and a ratty long-sleeved T-shirt, her pixie hair a spiked mess, her younger sister looked like a typical college coed. Only her hollowed eyes and tearstained cheeks gave away the fact that she wasn’t coping too well either.

  Papi patted his bed, their sign that they had permission to hop on. Years ago the gesture evoked screeches of delight and a little mattress bouncing. Today the girls gingerly sat down, afraid of jostling their father and causing him any undue pain.

  Once they were settled, Rosa and Lilí on Mami’s side of the bed, Yaz on the edge by Papi, he motioned toward his nightstand.

  “What is it?” Yaz asked.

  “In the drawer, por favor.” His arm flopped back onto the bed, as if fatigued by the simple movement.

  Yaz pulled open the drawer to find three envelopes, each labeled with one of their names. “These?”

  “Sí. For you.” He gave the slightest of nods as she handed her sisters their letters, pressing hers to her chest in a painful mix of grief and gratitude.

  She knew what these were. Papi’s last words of advice to them. His final good-bye.

  Across the bed, Rosa’s shoulders shook, silent sobs racking her body. Lilí covered her
face with her hands, leaning down to lay her head on Papi’s chest.

  “Te quiero, te quiero,” she cried, repeating her words of love over and over.

  Papi patted her head, shushing her like the little girl she still was in his eyes. A little girl losing her beloved father.

  Tears streaked down Yazmine’s face, her heart breaking for her sisters, for Papi, for herself. She wanted to stop this from happening. Hit the pause button so she could catch her breath, steady the shakiness rattling through her.

  “I am so, proud, of you,” Papi wheezed. “You are, all beautiful, kind, strong.” Lilí wrapped her arms around his waist. Slowly, he reached his hands out to Yaz and Rosa, completing the circle. “Love, each other.”

  His eyes drifted closed. His breathing slowed.

  Yaz longed to scream out in anguish and denial.

  “Te quiero.” Papi’s words were hardly audible, his lips barely moving. His expression turned peaceful and he took his final breath.

  Still, his voice lingered, crooning words of eternal love in an age-old ballad that hauntingly played through the speaker.

  Abject pain and misery and loss jackknifed in Yazmine’s chest. The moan she’d fought so hard to stifle forced its way up her throat in a gut-wrenching howl.

  Papi was gone. Finally joining their beloved mother.

  * * *

  A Los Paisanos CD played on the stereo. Neighbors and friends roamed the first floor of the house. The dining room table was filled with food and sweets, one corner weighed down by bottles of wine and Puerto Rican rum. To an outsider it looked like a regular party in full swing.

  Yaz sat in a chair in the corner of the living room, struggling to maintain a peaceful smile. People stopped to offer their condolences and she wondered for what felt like the millionth time if this was what hell would be like.

  This was supposed to be a celebration of Papi’s life. But all she wanted was to sneak up to her room, curl into a ball on her bed and pretend none of it was happening.

  Today signified the ending of a part of her life she wasn’t ready to give up. Her parents were gone. Her sisters were busy working on their own dreams and goals. There was nothing to tie her to Oakton anymore.

  She heard Maria’s giggle and she turned to follow the sound. The little girl, dressed in a black long-sleeved gown with a Peter Pan collar, flipped the pages on a family album she and Tomás were perusing together. One of the albums Papi had sat and stared at for hours over the last few weeks.

  Tomás must have felt her gaze because he glanced up, a question in his dark eyes.

  “¿Estás bien?” he mouthed.

  She wanted to lie, tell him she was fine, but she couldn’t pretend anymore. She gave him a slight shake of her head, then rose to escape. Threading her way through the crowd, she reached the kitchen, then slipped outside.

  With the wind gusting and snow falling, few would venture out here. It was freezing cold, another arctic Chicago day, but she finally had a moment’s peace.

  She stepped to the back-porch railing, realizing too late that she hadn’t even bothered to stop for her jacket. Dumb, but right now she’d rather freeze than go back for it.

  The door opened behind her and she glanced over her shoulder, annoyed by the interruption.

  Tomás didn’t say a word, he simply held up her coat for her to slip her arms into the sleeves.

  She burst into tears.

  The next thing Yaz knew, his strong arms were around her, the sound of his reassuring voice whispering in her ear.

  “He’d be proud of you, and your sisters. You did a beautiful job at the ceremony. Hold on a little while longer and I’ll clear the house for you. Send everyone home so you girls can relax together.”

  “Estoy tan cansada,” she mumbled. “Tired of people, tired of forms and legal questions. Tired of pretending I’m fine.”

  “I know.” He rubbed his hands in a circle around her back, the motion soothing her raw nerves.

  She sniffed, reaching into her skirt pocket for the handkerchief he’d given her earlier.

  “Thank you, for everything.” She stepped back to wipe the wetness from her cheeks, hoping her tears hadn’t done too much damage to her makeup.

  “Like I said, whatever you need.”

  “You’re a good man, Tomás Garcia.”

  His face actually flushed at her compliment.

  “Of all the dance studios in all the world, I’m glad I walked into yours.” He winked, drawing one of the few true smiles she’d given someone in the week since Papi’s death.

  “You’re an old romantic, you know that?” she said.

  “I have my good moments.”

  She sobered, needing to say something she should have said earlier this week, but she’d avoided calling him. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out with Cheryl.”

  He shrugged. “No worries. She’s a good person. I hope she’s happy.”

  “I thought she and Ronnie were finished. I guess he finally saw the light and came begging for another chance.”

  The wind picked up and she shivered into her coat.

  “Come on.” Tomás crooked an elbow for her to grasp. “The sooner you face everyone, the sooner I can help them on their way. You’re almost done. Hang in there.”

  She was almost done.

  As soon as Rosa and Lilí went back to school, and she worked things out with Pablo to ensure the house was taken care of, she’d be on her way to New York.

  Done with Oakton except for holidays. Done spending time with Maria and Tomás.

  Dios, that thought only made her sadder.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Tomás kneaded his aching neck and shoulder muscles with one hand and reached for his ringing cell phone with the other. He blinked in surprise at the caller ID number flashing on the screen. “Hi, Rosa, how’s my favorite librarian?”

  “Oh, you know. I’m doing the best I can.”

  The worry lacing her words told him otherwise. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you at work . . .” Her voice trailed off and he could picture the hesitancy on her face.

  “You are never a bother. Call me anytime, I mean it. What’s up?”

  “Thank you, I appreciate that. Well, I was, I was wondering if you’ve seen or heard from Yazmine this week?”

  His computer dinged, a reminder box popping up on the screen with the words “Call print department!” in red letters.

  “No, I haven’t actually. I’m on an extremely tight deadline at work for a big presentation tomorrow. I’ve been going into the office early and coming home long past Maria’s bedtime. Today’s the first day I’ve worked from home in weeks.”

  “So Yaz hasn’t touched base with you?”

  “Not since the funeral.” He swiveled his chair to face the snow-covered backyard, ignoring the reminder blinking obnoxiously on his screen. “I’ve left her a couple of messages over the past two weeks, but she hasn’t called back. I figured you girls could use some private time. But I’m hoping to see you and Lilí before you head back to school.”

  Rosa’s heavy sigh didn’t send out any positive vibes. “Pablo made us leave over the weekend so we wouldn’t get too far behind. We’d already missed the first few weeks of the semester.”

  “Aw man, I’m sorry I missed saying good-bye in person. Wait a minute—” Tomás sat up, spinning back around to look at his desk calendar with alarm. Today was Thursday. “So Yaz has been home alone all week?”

  “Yeah. We left Sunday. I thought she’d call you, maybe go over to see you and Maria.”

  No, she hadn’t.

  Disappointment coursed through him like a line of gasoline lit with a match. He sank back into his chair, unable to stop the emotion from blazing unchecked.

  During the memorial service Yazmine had been a little withdrawn. With Pablo, his wife Dolores, and the rest of Rey’s compadres gathering around the girls for support, Tomás had hung back. They were more like family than he was. />
  Feeling like an outsider had grated on his spirit, but he understood that those men and their families had been in the girls’ lives for decades, while he’d only enjoyed being welcomed into their inner circle for a few months.

  Later, at the wake, he could tell by her rigid posture and strained smile that Yaz was only holding on by a thread.

  She’d continued keeping him at arm’s length until he’d caught up with her on the back porch. After their conversation, he’d thought they’d turned a corner and could remain friends.

  But she’d been on her own the past four days, probably going crazy in that empty house, bombarded with memories, and still she hadn’t reached out to him. Hadn’t called to talk, to vent. Hadn’t needed him for anything.

  If there’d been any doubt in his mind about where he’d stand with Yaz once Rey had passed and there was nothing keeping her in Oakton any longer, Tomás knew now.

  “I’m a little worried about her,” Rosa said, interrupting his thoughts. “Maybe it’s nothing. But when we left she seemed a little too quiet and withdrawn. When I called to let her know I made it to my apartment she was really cryptic, cutting our conversation short. It reminded me of the months right after she and her ex broke up. The last time we spoke she barely said a word.”

  “When was that?”

  “Monday morning when I was walking to class. Oh, excuse me.” He could hear a door opening, people talking in the background. “Sorry, I arrived at my building to meet with a professor. Anyway, I haven’t been able to get in touch with her since then.”

  Antsy, Tomás rose and crossed to the window. Gray, billowy clouds filled the sky, threatening more damn snow. He shivered, the cold barrenness of winter seeping into his bones. Man, he could not wait for spring. Warmth, sunshine, new life.

  “What about Lilí?” he asked.

  “Same thing. Yaz hasn’t returned either of our calls since Monday. I don’t know what to do.”

  This was not a good sign, but the hint of panic in Rosa’s voice made him keep the comment to himself. Damn Yazmine and her stubbornness. “Let me see what I can find out. Hang in there and try not to worry.”

  “I’m sorry. No quiero molestarte.”