by Mia Garcia
“Where do you teach?” If it was here in Denver, maybe Nora could pop in for a class.
“Out in San Francisco.”
“Oh.” Too far then. “I’ve never been.”
“It is by far the most expensive of the cities I’ve lived in,” she said with a laugh. “But it’s home for now. I don’t stay in one place for long without getting restless. I’m Cassie, by the way.”
“Nora,” she said, shaking her hand. “Where else have you lived?”
Cassie grabbed another pastry before listing off locations: “New York, Vegas, and now San Fran.”
So many amazing places. “That’s a lot of cities.”
“Yes, but it was worth it. I’m not sure where I would’ve been if I hadn’t traveled around. Probably a lot more bored and boring.”
Cassie kept going, musing over her summer in Paris, while Nora’s mind buzzed with possibilities. What things would Nora learn if she went to Paris? New York? Even back to Puerto Rico? New ideas, that’s for sure—ideas that stretched outside of La Islita’s culinary reach.
“Do you bake?” Cassie asked, making Nora fidget a bit. If you’d never been to La Islita before, you’d think Nora was just an employee and not the brains behind the entire dessert menu.
Nora nodded, pointing to the pastries on Cassie’s plate.
“Really?” Cassie was visibly impressed. “That is talent, girl. Can I hire you?”
Nora blushed. “Family business, sorry.”
“Did you create this recipe yourself?”
“Have the burn scars to prove it.”
“Okay.” Cassie’s grin couldn’t be wider. “Are you sure I can’t steal you?”
“I’m sure.”
“That sucks,” Cassie said. “How old are you again?”
“Seventeen.”
“So you are what, a junior?”
“Going into my senior year.”
“I better brush up on my skills before you get out in the world, then,” Cassie said. “So I can be some sort of competition.”
Nora’s smile faltered. She wouldn’t be out in the world. She’d be right here in Denver. Cassie pulled out a business card and wrote something on the back, handing it to Nora.
“You should look these places up. I learned some of my best skills at these programs, and I can only imagine what you could do with them.”
Nora stuffed the card into her back pocket, and Cassie excused herself, returning to the engagement party. Nora went back to refilling trays and stacking empty pans in the back, all the while the card burned a hole in her back pocket.
I can only imagine what you could do.
Lee
THE PROS AND cons list had not grown aside from the one note in each column since she’d started it: knowing. The rest of the page was mostly dotted with splashes of ink like Morse code from when she’d intended to write more but never did. She didn’t try to draw out the paths again either. Because, really, was there more to it than that one word that held all her fear, worries, and hope? She moved it to the side, and opened the bookmarked browser windows she’d saved on local Huntington’s support groups.
The fact that she had looked into them made her feel better about the stagnant list.
There was a knock on the door and her dad poked his head in.
“When is David coming over?” He made a motion asking if he could come in, and she nodded.
“An hour.” Lee closed her laptop. “You still going out?”
“About that . . . I know I said it was a friend thing.” Her father sat by her desk, hand resting too close to the notebook with the opened page. Way to forget, Lee. Luckily his eyes stayed on her as he spoke, and Lee did the same. If she pretended it wasn’t there maybe he’d never notice. “It is a friend thing and well, sort of, get together with a work colleague, Denise, I don’t know if you remember, or if I’ve talked about her. She gave me that grilled cheese tip and the goat cheese salad recipe”—she noticed he kept fidgeting with his hands—“the one where you bread and fry the cheese so it is nice and warm over the salad.”
“Dad, you’re babbling.” And not paying attention to the notebook, she noticed with relief. “Let’s move to the bed before you break my desk.”
He nodded, and they both shifted to the bed, but not before Lee closed the notebook just in case. Her dad took a deep breath before blurting it all out. “Well, Denise is very nice and well, I asked her out on a date, which I know I said was just a friend thing, but I wasn’t sure how to tell you about it, and she is a friend, but today is less of a friend and more of a date thing, though I suppose it can be both.”
Finished, he crossed his arms over his chest but then seemed to think better of it and placed them on his thighs.
“So you’re going on a date?” She needed a moment to process now that she wasn’t thinking about her father seeing the contents of the open notebook.
“Yes.”
With Denise of the grilled cheese and goat cheese salad. “Does she know?”
Her dad took a deep breath, like he’d been waiting for the question, any questions, but still had no idea how to answer them.
“Yes. Yes she does.” He reached for her hand and held it. “I’m not going to forget your mother.”
Lee concentrated on her father, his eyes searching, worried of how she would react. It reminded her of all he’d given her and her mom. Of how much he loved them, of how much he deserved to be happy. The fact that Lee had no idea how to address the emotions surrounding any idea of a future or happiness didn’t mean her dad wasn’t ready to. “You should go on your date.”
“Are you sure? I can cancel.”
She mustered the best smile she could. “I’m not going to do cartwheels over it, but I don’t want you to cancel.”
From the smile on his face Lee knew she’d made the right decision. Her father deserved this, whatever it would be. “Okay, well . . .” His eye caught something and for a moment Lee thought she’d left something else on her bed about the testing, but when she turned to follow his gaze she relaxed. It was just the book David had lent her for their first lesson.
“How’s the reading?” He reached for the book. They decided to wait until the summer and after the SATs to really dive in, meeting at least twice a week to tackle Jess’s syllabus: past tense, present tense, vocabulary, with a little bit of David’s own syllabi in the mix. Last week he gave Lee a copy of Relato de un Náufrago and asked her to read a couple of chapters by today to discuss.
“Getting through,” she replied. “It’s not bad . . . but not great either. I’ve been googling a lot when I get lost.”
“No shame in that.” Her father nodded, tossing the tattered copy of the book back on the bed. “I’ll let you finish before he arrives. Oh, and Lee.” He paused by the open door. “Keep the door open, please.”
“Really?” Was he serious? This was David they were talking about. Jess’s twin brother. Her mind flashed to his smile for just a moment.
“Really.”
LEE SPENT THE moments before David’s arrival cleaning up her room. Her dad had almost caught the pros and cons list and she couldn’t let another incident like that happen. She opened her top drawer to stuff the notebook in but paused for a moment, eyes locked on the album she’d hidden away.
She’d ignored it all this time, not really understanding why. It would be easy to drop her notebook on top and forget about it again. But maybe she could be brave today, if only for a second.
She sat at the base of her bed and opened it. Her breath caught, a smile spreading as her fingers touched the image of her mother, so young, so alive. She was standing, hands cupped around her belly, her smile warm and her cheeks full. Full of life.
“Lee?” Her breath caught at the voice. David stood in the doorway, shoulders shrugging in apology. “Your dad let me in.”
She set the album aside, and he walked in.
“Family album?” he asked.
“Yeah. I mean sí.” She corrected herself.
David smiled, eyes warm as he sat next to her. Their shoulders touched for a moment before he adjusted to give her space. Lee found herself wanting to close that space again. “Do you want to see?”
His eyes searched hers. “Are you sure?”
She thought for a moment before answering. “Might be easier to get through.”
He nodded. “Then yes.”
Lee opened the album on the photo of her mother holding her belly; the following was a photo of Lee’s dad and her mom as snow fell around them.
“My mom loved Christmas in DC. She was obsessed with all the old movies with the magical Navidades with the snow. I always found it kind of overrated. Whenever it snowed everything just shut down, which was weird because it snowed every year, so you’d think they’d prepare.”
“Do you miss DC?”
She used to think there were too many painful memories in DC, woven into every street: the route they took to the doctor’s, the corner store for her favorite snacks. But each visit back to visit Auntie Rose was less and less painful.
When her mother died Lee and her father shot to the opposite ends of grief. Where Lee tried her best to let go, to forget, her father fought to remember. Where they told her to hold on, they told him to move on.
“Sometimes. I miss my family there.”
They flipped the pages to birthdays and first memories. A small envelope held a clipping of Lee’s hair, her mother’s notes faithfully detailing each addition. First haircut. First ice cream.
Lee touched her own hair, bringing a strand to the photo, matching black for black. She pointed out the slow breakdown of her mom’s penmanship. “She started this when she was diagnosed, see?” The penmanship was rocky, tilting up. “It became harder to hold a pen, or anything really. . . .”
Little Lee grew bolder and bolder on the pages, climbing trees, dressing up for Halloween with her mom and dad. As Lee grew bolder, her mother faded.
The penmanship by the photos changed to her father’s and the photos themselves were now less of Lee and more of the three of them trick or treating, out to dinner, as many of them smiling and happy as her father could find.
The final photo was a sleeping Lee, curled next to her mother in the medical bed, hands linked. She didn’t remember when it was taken, but there had been many moments like that.
David shifted next to her as she slid the album toward her desk. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”
She wasn’t sure what to say to that. “You’re welcome” didn’t feel quite right, so instead she twisted around and reached for the book, changing the subject.
“I like the book, by the way.”
“Really?” He brightened.
“Some of it is confusing but yeah, kind of scary in parts.” She shoved her leg under the other, then changed her mind and straightened it out again. All nerves.
“Right?” he said. His entire body was animated as he talked. “When he’s floating out at sea talking about all the creatures that were passing below him.”
“Terrifying.” Lee shivered at the thought of being lost at sea, floating in the ocean as life passed underneath you unseen.
“Exactly. I loved it. Really just that section, everything else was fine, but the thought of not knowing what was swimming underneath you when you are all alone. The ocean is a scary place.”
“Is that why it has all those cracks in the spine?”
He smiled, rubbing the back of his head. “Well, it was my dad’s before it was mine. He had to read it in school.”
“Oh—was it his favorite too?”
“You know, I asked him that once, and he didn’t even remember he had the book at all. I just found it on his shelf when I was bored one day.” He shrugged.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, story bummer.”
“Totally—I was expecting a story of father and son bonding.”
“Not even close. I think it did more harm than good.” He laughed, his eyes settled on her in a way that made her want to be close yet far away from him at the same time.
“So, I guess we should start with the lesson. . . .”
Before the silence stretched any longer.
“Right.” David pulled out a bunch of papers from his backpack. “I figure we could do a little conjugating and maybe vocabulary, as scintillating as that sounds. And then I brought a movie.”
“A movie?”
“Yeah.” He handed Lee the DVD; it was a kid’s movie. “This is a full-service tutoring program, plus it’s a good way to listen to accents and cadence. Also it’s a movie so it feels like you’re slacking off when you’re really learning.”
She laughed, handing the DVD back. “Okay, let’s start then.”
David was a gentle teacher, which, as it turned out, was what she needed. Whenever her tongue tripped on a word, she panicked, a thousand condemnations coming to mind. She wasn’t good enough. She could never do this. Each word felt like a test between what would let her down faster: her tongue or her brain.
But while her own mind criticized, David simply smiled and encouraged her.
“This is a good start,” he said as they took a break and settled into the movie. They sat side by side and thoughts of her faulty tongue vanished when his knee touched hers and didn’t move. It was hard to follow the movie when all she could think of was moving her leg and keeping it still at the same time. She tried focusing anywhere else and landed on the open drawer, one end of her notebook poking out. Not helpful.
“Everything okay?” David paused the movie, shifting to look at Lee. “You seem nervous.”
“I’m fine,” she said too quickly, her voice carrying more than she wanted. We’re so used to the weight of emotions we don’t notice we carry them everywhere. “It’s kind of a long story.”
He shrugged, rearranging himself so he could give her his full attention. “I like long stories—especially trilogies.”
“It’s not—” she said with a shaky laugh. “I guess it does feel like an epic. Just one I can’t seem to talk about.”
“Then don’t say anything. You don’t have to.”
“And just sit here in silence?”
“I don’t mind.” He leaned in like he was whispering a secret, and she found herself unable to look away from his eyes. They were a deep warm brown under the longest lashes she’d ever seen. “Particularly in this company.”
“Right.” Lee could feel the flush traveling up her neck.
She stuffed her hands between her thighs, pressing them together until the blood slowed. She was afraid to look up, knowing that David’s gaze hadn’t shifted, and she liked it.
They sat in silence as Lee filtered through her emotions, telling her body to rein itself in. There was so much happening today: her dad, the album, the resolutions, and now her body was going haywire.
“I’m just wondering how to make a decision I’d rather ignore.”
More than one decision if she was honest. More than one thing she was now trying to ignore. “What happens if you ignore it?”
She let out a breath. “Nothing and everything.”
“Like Schrödinger’s cat.”
“What was that again?”
“The one about the box with the cat that could be dead or not dead at the same time because the box is closed so both possibilities are correct. . . . I think.”
That was exactly it. She could test for HD and know, while if she didn’t either future was still possible. She could kiss David and know what that felt like, or not and stamp down whatever was happening now.
Lee pulled at her hair, which reached down past her shoulders in one long French braid.
“I just keep confusing myself the more I think about it.”
“I do that all the time.” David reached up, taking her hand in his. “Sometimes it’s easier to put things away until we are ready to deal with them.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready.” She stared down at David’s hands in hers, how they felt so anchored. “
I don’t know if I want to be ready.”
“Is this about your mom?”
Yes and no, but Lee simply nodded.
He licked his lips. “I think you’re amazing, and I think you can do whatever it is you need to do, and just because you didn’t figure things out right away, who cares? It doesn’t work that way and anyone who tells you differently never lost someone.” He cleared his throat and dropped Lee’s hand reluctantly. “Sorry—got carried away.”
“I liked it.” She clasped her hands together to stop them from reaching for his again. Why was she stopping herself when they’d felt so good?
“I just . . . don’t apologize for taking the time you need. You don’t . . . you don’t need to—”
Lee watched David stumble through his own words, noticing the flush to his cheeks, the way he no longer met her eyes. She felt warm all over, and the feel of his body so close gave her goose bumps, melting every other trouble away. Why was she fighting this? Why was closing herself off so much easier when this felt so good? She’d wanted her dad to be happy, why couldn’t she be too?
“I’m just saying, um . . .”
Her body was already leaning toward his. Her eyes following the curve of his lips and the way his hands inched closer to hers. Don’t hide, she thought, feel, want, need. You can have this. “Can I kiss you?”
He exhaled. “Fuck yes.”
They reached for each other at the same time. His lips were soft and welcoming. Lee felt his hand caress her face, cupping it as he pulled at her bottom lip; it sent shivers down her spine. Good decision. She did the same with his, wondering if he felt the same shivers. When she pulled away, he smiled against her lips, his fingers trailing down her neck.
“Right, that was . . .”
A very good decision. Her body echoed the sentiment.
“Not part of the lesson plan.”
They laughed as Lee reached for him again.
So much for open doors.
Ryan
RYAN WAS BLUE today—not blue as in sad, blue as in calm, blue like the vast ocean. Blue that felt endless and lost; blue that bled into the sky and strained your eyes till you no longer saw the line dividing it; the blue of a long sigh, of a breath released.