Just Let Go

by Alessandra Thomas

  Sebastian jumped up when he saw me, tilting his head as he walked over to me with open arms. "Natalia," he said. I breathed in his smell - strong coffee and the same generic laundry detergent Mamá had bought by the gallon.

  "Hey," I said, squeezing his waist extra hard until he made a show of coughing at the force of it.

  "Your love is dangerous, Nati," he said, stepping back and ruffling my hair so that it arced up out of the ponytail I'd thrown it into. I grumbled and took my hair down, shaking it out and pulling it into a new ponytail as I walked over to the couch.

  The lounge looked so empty, with just Papá there.

  I should have sat there, next to him, to bolster him. I should have pulled him into a hug too, scratched circles on his back in the way I'd done since I was little. But in front of the couch, there was a circle of folding chairs, filled by my four brothers, Christian’s boyfriend Daniel, and Sebastian and Rodrigo’s wives, Sarah and Amalia. There was one folding chair left empty. It had to be for me.

  Carefully, I took it, grateful that Amalia was there. Neither of us had grown up with a sister, and had decided when she married Rodrigo that we must be long-lost sisters. Meant to be. She was my best friend, and if she hadn't told me what this was about, then there must be a good reason. A serious reason.

  She pulled me into a hug and I just whispered, probably a tad desperately, "What's up, Amalia?"

  "We just found out too," she whispered. "I'll let Papá tell you. Tell all of us."

  "Hey, Nati," Papá said, his craggy face shifting into a soft smile. He reached out a hand and I reached forward and grabbed it. I'd seen him just yesterday afternoon. Before the support group. He'd wanted me to go. "That's good,” he'd said. "That's good for you. To talk."

  As if I needed more reminders that talking was not exactly my thing. When were they going to invent a support group where you talked while you jogged around the city? At least there would be no stale air or awkward looks.

  "What's up, Papá?" I asked, my gaze darting to my nieces playing quietly in the corner. Mariana, at 10 years old, never complained about playing with Camila, 2 years old. Family was everything to us. Everything.

  "A couple days ago, Christian took me to my doctor's appointment. I'd been feeling more tired than usual, some pains in my chest, but I thought it was nothing. Heartburn, the stress of the gym. You know."

  I knew. Knew as soon as he said "doctor." I was going to lose Papá, too. Of course. We all were. My brothers and I were close, but our parents were what always brought us together. Their house for holidays. Their forced family gatherings. Their insistence on group video chats because family should see each other once a week, at least. “That's why Sundays were invented," as Mamá was fond of scolding.

  I felt my face twist into one of disbelieving pain, and Amalia reached out and squeezed my hand. "It's okay. Deep breath. Let him talk."

  "The cardiologist says I will be fine,” Papá rushed to explain. "But there are things I have to do. Precautions I have to take. If I do that, I can live ten more years. Fifteen, maybe longer."

  "Okay, yes," I said eagerly, checking my brothers' faces. They all still had their mouths set in hard lines, their eyes cast downward. “Whatever it is, we’ll make it happen,” I babbled, looking at my brothers in confusion. This was the look they got when they knew I was going to be pissed off about something, and they didn't want to tell me.

  Arturo, handsome and calm in his blue police uniform, spoke up. "Medication, of course. Regular doctors' appointments and cutting way back on the exercise. Nothing too intense."

  This was what baffled me about the words ‘heart disease’ being applied to my father. Papá was a boxer. He ran and he worked and he lifted weights three times a week. He should have had the healthiest heart out there. "This makes no sense," I blurted. "He's so healthy,"

  "Sometimes it just runs in the family," Daniel said. "It did for my mother's side."

  Papá nodded. "I'm going to have to change a couple other things. My diet," he said. I nodded. We could arrange to have heart-healthy meals cooked and put in Papá's freezer. Of course.

  "Easy," I said quickly.

  "And now comes the not-easy part, mija,” Papá said. "The doctor says if I want to stay alive to see a dozen grandchildren, I have to cut back on work. Way back."

  The Knockout Brothers gym had been my parents' dream for this family, named when Mamá had given birth to Arturo - their third son. They hadn't bothered to change the name when I, a surprise baby and a girl, was born. Boys were the ones who boxed and lifted and ran.

  They had built The Knockout Brothers from the ground up and raised all of us here. Our whole family had reaped the rewards. They’d sent three of us to college with that money, and paid off the mortgage on our house. Now that Mamá was gone, Papá was taking on most of the bookkeeping and management of the gym all by himself. In my grief, I'd jetted off to the other side of the country to distract myself. My brothers had done degrees of the same, in their own ways.

  "I'm going to sell the gym,” Papá said. "I didn't want to make it official until you knew. All of you."

  My emotions swirled within me, making a tornado that sent nervous energy down to the tips of my fingers and toes. Before I knew it, I was out of my chair, pacing. Only one word fell from my lips. "No. No. That's not going to happen."

  "Nati," Alejandro said, "We did have another suggestion." His voice was calm and cold, sleek, just like his appearance. It was his businessman voice, cultivated over years of building his own architectural firm in a New York City skyscraper office.

  "We think...we could make it work. The Ortiz siblings,” Alejandro said. "I have some money to invest for some extra staff, to help out."

  "And Rodrigo and I can definitely teach classes, manage the free gym time," Arturo said. "Even Daniel said he would help out."

  “I’m close to getting Crossfit certified. I could cover some of the trainers for no cost,” Daniel said.

  I nodded, slowly. The Knockout Brothers could actually be run by... brothers. Nice.

  "If we bring in massage and nutritionist consults we could get some extra income that way, just for the cost of a spare room or two," Amalia said.

  "This sounds great," I said, nodding enthusiastically. "Sounds like you’ve already talked about this. So why are you all looking at me like there's an anvil about to fall on my head?"

  "Well," Alejandro said, "Because we're not sure how you're going to feel about your part in all this. Nati, we're going to need you."

  "My part? But I can't..."

  "You can," Alejandro said, that same cool and calm affect coating every word. "Nati, you're smart as a whip and you had a 3.8 GPA at Temple in Business Management."

  "Okay, Ando, but you have actually, you know, managed a business. I have no idea what I'm doing."

  I didn't want to know what I was doing.

  "Nati, come on. You’ve been running classes here for years.”

  It was true. I’d taught Krav Maga at the gym since I was in college. “That’s because I was pitching in to give you Papá a break on my vacation. And don’t call me that little girl nickname when you’re expecting me to act like a grownup, Alejandro.”

  Alejandro’s cheeks took on a ruddy tinge. This was not good. “Well, Nati, it's about time you -"

  Papá 's lip trembled. "Alejandro, enough!" he roared. Papá had seemed so small, so timid, and when he used his big voice like that it brought back memories of when I was little. The youngest of five by three years, I got in plenty of trouble, thinking I could fly under the radar of my parents' rules. Sometimes I could. Other times, Papá’s big voice let me know that he hadn’t missed a thing, and that I was in big trouble.

  I couldn't remember a time I'd ever heard that voice used in my defense.

  We all turned to Papá. I was pretty sure my jaw hung slightly open. "This is not what Mamá would have wanted, and it's not what I want. Nati is a part of this family, and she does have a business degree, and w
e could certainly use her help. But she is her own person. She does not have to give that help. Anyone who thinks it's a good idea to tell my daughter what she has to, or cannot do, will learn the hard way that it is estupido. Okay? Nati can do what she wants."

  Papá 's words seemed to echo through the now completely-silent lounge. Even little Camila had gone quiet, her eyes round and big. The edges of my mouth ticked up in a smile, even as my heart twisted. I loved Papá, and felt more strengthened than I could say that he just jumped to my defense, but he was wrong. I knew it in my heart, and so did my brothers and Amalia. We all exchanged looks, Christian and Rodrigo shrugging, Alejandro and Arturo refusing to meet my eyes.

  I loved my father, just as much as I knew he was utterly and completely wrong.

  My mother, rest her soul, would have wanted me to do whatever I could to help him. To help the family, when she couldn't anymore.

  It wasn't my fault she was gone - I knew that, logically. I also knew that if I had driven her to hospital. we might have been able to save her. I couldn't get my mom back but losing her was plenty for this family to try to survive for a good long while. We couldn't lose Papá. We couldn't lose Knockout Brothers.

  I stuck my tongue in the inside of my cheek, making myself look like half a chipmunk, then switched it to the other side. Arturo grinned. They all knew what that meant. I was thinking.

  Finally, I pulled in a long, slow breath, and said, "Papá, we are not selling the gym." All my brothers' faces lit up like Christmas morning. I could practically see their ten-through-sixteen year-old selves in my memories of Christmas morning, seeing the gifts they'd begged for but weren't a hundred percent sure they'd actually receive until they saw them with their own eyes. I held up my hands, palms out, and squelched any cheering or thanks that would have begun in the next breath.

  "We're not selling the gym yet." I could do this. I knew I could. It didn’t matter that I’d never actually run the business operations before – the most I’d ever done at Knockout Brothers was manage the class schedules and the front-of-house operations. But The question was whether I wanted to. The answer to that question didn't seem to matter too much right now. What mattered was making sure my brothers understood my terms.

  "I will manage the gym for six months, as a trial. I'm hiring an office manager to do the bookkeeping, website maintenance, and some human resources stuff."

  "Oh, Natalia. You're a goddess," Christian said.

  "I'm not finished," I said. "All of you - all seven of you," I said, swiping an index finger around the circle of folding chairs to indicate each of my brothers, Amalia, and Sarah and Daniel, "Are going to be available to consult on a moment's notice. If you live in Philly, you'll help me cover time slots if employees call off or if I need extra hands. We can't afford to hire half the city just so our people can cover each other’s lazy asses."

  They all nodded. I sat up the tiniest bit straighter. I had never, not once, commanded this kind of attention and respect from my siblings. It was kind of exhilarating.

  "Papá," I continued, "I know that the hotel is a source of income, but I'd love to be able to stay there for the time being, if that's okay."

  Papá's eyes glistened. "Of course, mija. I wouldn't let you stay anywhere else."

  "I promise I'm going to do my very best to make it worth it," I said, leaning over and covering his hand with mine. I squeezed and he squeezed back. That right there was worth taking six months to figure out how we could keep the gym in the family without forcing me to work there forever My father deserved to know that I would be here to support him. Nothing was worth losing my father’s faith in me, not even the small movie stunt double gig I had booked back in LA for tomorrow.

  "One more thing," I said, before my brothers could get up, pat me on the back, and consider The Knockout Brothers Gym no longer their problem. "Ownership of the business goes from an even percentage split between the six of us to fifty percent mine, ten percent for each of the rest of you. Of course, we’ll make sure Papá’s needs are covered as well, if I agree to do this.”

  This was the real gauge for how much faith they had in me. Money talked. Sebastian’s jaw clenched, and Alejandro’s mouth moved slightly, like he was doing some mystery calculation of the cost-benefit analysis of a deal like that in his head. Several seconds later, they were all softly agreeing, either with a nod of their head or a quiet "Okay."

  Wow. Now I was shaking. More power. More respect. From my brothers. Not that they'd ever disrespected me, but they'd never once indicated that they'd be willing to trust me with anything this big. Ever.

  "Oh, and finally," I said as I got up, stretching my legs, "We're not calling it The Knockout Brothers anymore. Long live The Knockout Gym."

  Christian chuckled. "Can't argue with that, Nati."

  I rolled my eyes at the nickname. "Natalia. And no," I said, a triumphant smile forming on my lips even as my tummy flipped and tied itself in knots. "You really can't."

  Chapter 6

  Ethan

  Every one of my friends since I was a freshman in college had made fun of me for my career goals: Major in actuarial science, the field of study that calculated the amount of risk inherent in any business, estate, or personal life, and pass my exams with flying colors. Get a job with a good, steady firm, work good, steady hours, and make good, steady money.

  None of my friends were all alone in the world, either.

  I was the only person I had to count on. I'd loved my mom, so much that every time I thought of her, which was several times a day, my heart still ached. I'd admired my mom, but for my whole life, she barely held it together financially. I didn't want that to be me. Not ever. And the only person who could make that happen was...me.

  Yep. All alone. I was lonely a lot, too, but I'd never be broke and panicked about my next step. Not with my job. Out of all the careers that millennials could pick up, Actuaries were one of the only ones in high demand.

  Plus, I got to help people. Not in a touchy feely way, like a therapist, or even in a concrete, immediate way, like a doctor. But I helped people plan for the future, usually in the form of helping them with their insurance policies. At the risk of sounding like a sanctimonious lecturing old man or an AARP commercial, peace of mind was one of the greatest gifts you could give someone. It was something I'd never had. The least I could do, I figured, was help give it to others, while getting paid enough to give it to myself.

  I got to go out on an insurance eval a couple times a week, if I was lucky. It was one of my favorite parts of the job. Meeting with clients face-to-face was usually a nice break from staring at a screen and fiddling with algorithms. Writing reports was okay, but I lived for the days one of my bosses, Mr. Kennedy or Ms. Sousa, would send me out on an assignment. I was a beginning actuary, so, like a beginning realtor, I got assigned to the lower-paying clients, meaning lower commission and longer hours for me. That was fine.

  After all, I was all on my own.

  Mr. Kennedy had a last-minute cancellation this morning - something to do with his daughter getting into some trouble with the sorority council at Penn State - so I got the email to cover for him at a new-client evaluation today, which was something he normally did. No problem. I'd been itching for something to take my mind off seeing Natalia four days ago. That woman was going to kill me, I was convinced of it.

  Which reminded me, I should re-evaluate my life insurance.

  I mapped the SEPTA route from our offices downtown to an address near Chestnut. I smiled. I loved University City, having graduated from UPenn just a couple years back. Even though I complained about it to my buddy Mark, I enjoyed the trips to the Sonic Wave Studios, where we recorded our weekly radio broadcast, the BroShow. Sometimes I even regretted buying that Brownstone downtown, even if it was the best move for Future Me. It only made Present Me more isolated.

  I hopped off the train a few minutes later and strolled to the location. It was late-March, and uncharacteristically warm. The ground was wet
, still damp from the frost and a light snow that had covered the ground yesterday morning. Somehow today was forecasted to be fifteen degrees warmer, and the rays of sunlight piercing the early morning air broadcast the coming Spring.

  The only writing on the heavy metal door was the address numbers, and the tall windows on the all-brick corner building didn't have any advertisements or identifiers, either. Interesting. Mr. Kennedy had been so rushed this morning that I had no idea whether I was visiting a law firm or a hairdresser's studio or a bookstore. I’d just put the address in my phone and followed the GPS instructions. When the robotic voice in my phone announced I had arrived, I looked up and laughed. I was standing in front of The Knockout Brothers Gym – the place where I’d met Natalia over a year ago. Where I’d slept with her, in the upstairs apartment, just days ago.

  My heart sped up. She said she was leaving town. Was it even possible she was still here?

  “Fuck me,” I groused under my breath as I knocked on the door. Of course, the universe would throw her back into my orbit, only to take her away and make me hang out with her brothers a few days later. Just to make sure I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  Then, I heard heels clicking on the other side of the door. It wasn't a confident, steady rhythm like most women had when they walked in heels - in the few seconds I heard, there was a scrape, a stumble, and a couple of swear words. I smiled to myself. Whoever this woman was, she probably needed special insurance if she was planning to wear these shoes on a regular basis.

  The door slowly pulled open, and on the other side, staring down at me from the top of the steps, with her mouth half-open, was a woman I would have known instantly even in an ill-fitting pinstriped skirt suit, teetering heels, and hair worn down and free so it tumbled over her shoulders.

  "Natalia?" I stammered.

  Maybe I'd been praying in my sleep. Maybe I'd wished upon a star without knowing it or maybe I was just so desperate to see Natalia again, even after all the times she'd promised me I wouldn't, that the universe had done me a solid.