Her face lights up. “Are you serious?”
“Yes,” I say. “You’re right, Niloo. Maman wanted us to live. She wanted us to explore and love and not miss out on any opportunity that comes our way. And maybe I wasn’t ready to admit it to myself, but I think…” I push back the grief that swells just thinking about how Maman looked at me. “I think, for me, she meant Anthony.”
Niloo smiles, even as her eyes brim with tears. “I think she did, too.”
I suck in a deep breath, what I’m about to do making my head spin. I don’t know the first thing about winning someone back. What makes me think I can actually do this? But Niloo sits beside me, trying not to bounce too hard in her chair, and I let her enthusiasm encourage me, despite how badly I want to hide under the table. I try on a brave smile.
“Here we go.”
I can’t keep my fingers from shaking as I press the call button. The phone comes to life, the repetition of the chimes making my stomach hurt.
“Wait, this is a video call?” Niloo’s excitement drops into horror as she springs from her chair and uses the bottom of a stainless steel pot on the dish rack as her mirror. I can’t help the laughter that breaks through my nerves. “Oh shut up,” she demands, but the smile on her face warms my insides.
The phone rings a third time and I’ve just about convinced myself he isn’t going to pick up when the screen flashes and Carlos’s face comes into view. He’s stretched out across the bed, the backboard of whatever hotel, in whatever city he’s in, behind him.
“Pretty doctor lady,” he says. His lips are stretched in a lazy grin, one so familiar it makes me hurt with how much I miss him. How much I miss all of them. Especially Anthony. “What’s up?”
“Hey Carlos,” I say. My stomach flip-flops. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” he answers. He stares at me for a moment, then scoots up in the bed until he’s sitting. “Wait, what’s going on? Are you okay?” His brow furrows.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I insist. Then, my tongue goes numb and the words are lost to the possibility of failing at my quest. He leans in a bit closer.
“You don’t look fine.”
“Ack, Darya.” Niloo swats at my arm and leans in until we’re both in the screen. “She’s just chickening out.”
“Hey!” His smile momentarily returns to his face before he drops back into confusion. “Wait, what are you chickening out from?”
Niloo throws me a sideways glance, the one that says “get your head out of your ass.”
“I need your help,” I say.
“Anything.”
“I’ve been thinking about what happened between your brother and me…and I know now that I’ve made a huge mistake. I should never have pushed Anthony away. I was just…dealing.”
Carlos nods, his eyes knowing, and I feel a bit less ridiculous because he’s in my corner.
“I want to fix things between us.”
His face lightens into his cocky grin, and I can’t help but smile. “What were you thinking?” he asks.
I exchange glances with Niloo, who’s waiting as expectantly as Carlos for my grand plan. One I haven’t yet devised. “Um…I haven’t really gotten that far.” I shrug, laughing. “I thought maybe you guys could help me figure it out?”
Carlos rubs his hands together. “Oh, I’m totally in. You in, Niloo?”
“Is that even a question?” she answers.
“Excellent,” he says. He tilts his head and stares up at the ceiling for a few beats, then returns his now wide-eyed gaze back to me. “How do you feel about a song?”
“Like…you want me to, um, sing?” My voice is tight, my throat suddenly sandpaper.
“Oh my God, that would be amazing!” Niloo claps her hands with glee; meanwhile, I pull at the collar of my shirt.
“Nah. That’s Anthony’s job.” When I blow out all the air in my lungs, Carlos laughs hysterically. “Oh my God, I wish you could have seen your face. I swear, you looked like you were going to puke.”
“Because I was.”
He continues to laugh, rubbing his palms over his eyes to wipe away the tears.
“Okay, okay,” I say. “It wasn’t that funny.”
“Yes it was.”
He finally gets himself together while Niloo continues to pout beside me, now that the idea of me singing up onstage is not an actual option. I have no idea why she’d even be rooting for that. She’s heard me in the shower.
“What I meant was, what do you think about writing a song?” He drums his fingers together and I half expect an evil laugh to escape his lips.
“I’m listening.”
“We can take your feelings and turn them into lyrics. Then the guys can help me lay down some music to it. It would be like your love letter to Anthony.”
“That’s brilliant,” Niloo interrupts. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“You totally would have if I’d given you a few more minutes.” He winks and her cheeks go rosy. It’s moments like these that make me love him. The ones that are raw and real, letting his kindness shine through. The ones he saves for only those he trusts.
“But I’ve only ever written poems. I can’t write a song.”
“Of course you can,” he encourages. “Poems are just condensed lyrics without a melody. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about. Plus, the boys and I will help you.”
I shift my gaze between Carlos and my sister, both with broad, glorious grins on their faces, like this is the best idea in the entire universe. I want to say no, to hang up the phone and throw ideas of an elaborate scheme to the wind. But then again, it isn’t a grand gesture if it’s easy, right? Despite the crashing fear crushing my heart, I force myself to say, “Okay, where do we start?”
…
Later that evening, as I lie awake in bed, unable to stop the rattling thoughts of rhymes and rhythms in my head, I find comfort in thinking of the end game: Anthony. It feels like a lifetime since I’ve held him close, yet his scent fills my lungs even in his absence. I may have lost my mother this year, but I also found love. Something I’d never imagined for myself. And it’s changed me.
I’ve learned that love doesn’t have expectations or rules. It’s big, loud, and messy. It’s exhausting and all-consuming. It can be painful and difficult, yet it requires patience and forgiveness. It’s what gets you through the darkest of days, when the loss is so big it shatters your heart into too many tiny pieces to count. Love is what puts you back together again, so it’s worth the fight. And Anthony is worth fighting for.
Chapter Fifty
Darya
“I think I may throw up.” The bright Vegas lights are whizzing by at an ungodly speed, making me dizzy with nerves. Carlos sent a car to the airport despite my protests, and I don’t know if he told the driver to get us to the venue extra fast or what, but we’re racing down the road. Or maybe that’s my heart.
“It’s going to be okay,” Niloo assures me, taking my hand. “Could you turn the air up a bit?” she asks the driver.
“What if he totally rejects me? I mean, there’s going to be a huge crowd watching.” I whip my head in Niloo’s direction so abruptly, she jumps. “What if it’s televised?”
“I don’t think it would be on TV,” Niloo assures me, putting an arm around my shoulders. “It’s not an award show or some HBO special. And even if it was, it’s not a grand gesture if you don’t have a lot to lose.”
“Fabulous. Embarrassing myself in front of a crowd of thousands is the price I pay for falling in love. Maman was right. This love stuff is bullshit.” We exchange knowing smiles, both feeling the absence of her, always. But instead of painful, this memory is gentle and filled with tenderness.
“We’ve arrived,” the driver announces.
My stomach goes reeling down to the floor, and I’m hit with another wave of
nausea. Would it be so bad if I puked in the bushes I can see across the parking lot?
My sister gets out and takes a few steps down the sidewalk before realizing I’m not following. “You coming?”
I’m glued to the leather seat, paralyzed with fear. Maybe this was a bad idea. When Niloo puts her hand out, gesturing me toward her, I shake my head. I can’t do this.
She reads my mind. “You can do this.” She comes back to the car, where the driver is staring at me like “Hurry lady, I’ve got places to be,” and pulls me out.
I dig my feet into the concrete. “I’m not going. I really can’t do it.”
Niloo puts her hands on her hips and cocks her head to the side, a familiar pose from her childhood. It makes me laugh. “Now you listen to me, Darya. You’re going to go in there and you’re going to go through with this, because we aren’t quitters. We don’t cower away just because something is scary.”
“But what if he’s moved on and there’s some other woman I don’t know about?”
“He’s hasn’t. And there isn’t.”
“How do you know?” I urge, stomping my feet like a child. I’m usually the solid one but this whole falling in love business has turned me into a mushy pansy. And I hate it.
“Because I just do,” she says. “First of all, Carlos would not have wasted the past week if he knew his brother was over you. And he’d know, because they’re as close as we are,” she assures me. “And if there were another woman, we’d have seen it in the tabloids. Ternura has paparazzi following them around nonstop. There’s no way we wouldn’t know.”
I watch Niloo standing tall and sure of herself, telling me to get it together and be brave. I can’t help but feel pride that my little sister has turned into such an amazing badass when I wasn’t looking. Losing Maman changed us both.
I can do this.
I give her a sharp nod and she grabs my hand. We make our way to the back entrance of the concert hall, prepared to face whatever my testament of love will result in. If Anthony rejects me, I’ll be mortified with so many people watching. But I know one thing for sure, I won’t be leaving here alone, even if he isn’t coming with me.
“I love you,” I whisper to Niloo.
“I love you too,” she answers. “You’ve got this.”
…
I pace back and forth in the empty dressing room, trying to calm my nerves as we wait for Emmanuel to come fetch us when it’s time. Time for the love of my life to realize what a mistake it would be to let us go, or for him to say no in a grand gesture gone wrong in front of a crowd of thousands.
Niloo waves at me to join her on the couch. “Would you sit down please?”
“I can’t.” I bounce on my toes, full of nervous energy. “I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin.”
“You really need to relax. You’re all flushed and heated,” she advises. “You want to look good when you get out there.”
“If I get out there, I may not make it.” I glance at the trash can in the corner, trying to estimate how many strides it would take to get there if my lunch doesn’t cooperate.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror. Niloo wasn’t kidding. My skin is pink and there’s a sheen of perspiration across my forehead. My hair is sticking to the side of my face. The panic of what I’m about to do is replaced by the panic of doing it while looking like shit.
Get it together, Darya! What is wrong with you?
I grab my purse off the couch and proceed to make myself presentable, wishing I had Mike’s expert skill. Stop acting like a scared little girl. You’re a grown ass woman. I shake out my hands until blood makes its way back into my fingertips. By the time Emmanuel shows up, I’ve gathered myself together. Mostly.
We follow him out into the hall and up the stairs until the band comes into view. They’ve started their first set, too preoccupied with the screaming fans and loud music to see us creeping by. We stand hidden in the shadow of the thick curtain, out of sight to the left of the stage.
Doctor Steve is on the opposite side of the entrance, sitting in a chair similar to the one the band made me, and I’m hit with a pang of jealousy. Some of my fondest moments have been on tour with the guys. And just like at the L.A. concert, I’m reminded that I miss them dearly.
He nods and tips his imaginary hat, then returns his attention to the small handheld monitor. I know he’s watching Carlos’s heart rate, and the perfectionist in me gets the urge to walk over and make sure he’s doing his job correctly. As if he can read my mind, he gives me a thumbs-up, signifying that our guitarist is doing just fine.
Carlos looks toward us, and despite not being able to see us well, winks. His hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail, looking clean and sleek. His guitar is strapped to his shoulder, and he proceeds to play a solo that mesmerizes the crowd into silence. Lost in the music, the serious turn of his brow and the purse of his lips makes him appear like the perfect tortured musician. He’s totally in his element, and that type of passion is worthy of envy.
One song turns into five, then makes its way to ten. With each set that finishes, the crowd screams and the band soaks up the attention. Anthony stays in character, dark and brooding, as he belts out each song. The women go wild, undoubtedly filled with fantasies of somehow finding their way into his bed.
He’s clad in his bad-boy attire of black pants and a fitted black T-shirt. His tattoos call to me, even from this distance. I trace the shapes with my eyes, knowing exactly where each begins and ends despite not being able to see them clearly from this far away. I’ve memorized the curve of each petal, the point in each letter, the faces lost among the images. Desire flares in the pit of my stomach, and hope blooms in my chest when the band starts “Cariño Extraño,” our signal that we’re about to be up.
“Almost time,” Niloo whispers in my ear. “It’s going to be amazing.”
My nerves are back in overdrive so all I can muster is a tiny smile. I’m suddenly less afraid of what Anthony will think and very aware of the size of the crowd. I’ve never been out on a stage this large, or any stage at all, really. Unless you count being the Littlest Christmas Tree in the first-grade play. But that crowd was maybe forty, most of them my classmates’ parents.
This is thousands of strangers.
“You okay?” Niloo asks.
“Yeah,” I answer. “I think I’m having stage fright.”
“Don’t look at the people. It’s just you and him up there.”
“But it’s not really true, is it?” I look at my sister and we both start laughing. What was I thinking? Love really does make you stupid.
The music stops and Carlos steps to the middle of the stage beside Anthony, who’s now looking at him, frowning. This is it. When Carlos starts speaking, I stop breathing.
“Who’s having a good time tonight?” he yells. The crowd screams and I’m so nervous I start getting light-headed. “Nice.” He smirks, smooth and sexy. He raises his hand to get the crowd to settle down and they begin to quiet.
Anthony rubs the back of his neck and leans in to whisper something that Carlos nonchalantly brushes off.
“We’re going to do something tonight that we’ve never done before,” Carlos continues. “We’re going to perform a song that no one has ever heard.” Crowd goes wild again. Anthony grabs Carlos’s hand and frowns in confusion. “This will actually be the first time that my brother has heard it.” The crowd screams so loud that I’m certain I won’t be able to hear in the morning.
Carlos makes his way to the back of the stage and drags out a stool. He places it in front of Anthony and pats the seat, cocky grin on full blast. The crowd continues to hoot and holler as Anthony shakes his head and laughs at his brother.
Carlos hands him the sheet music and Anthony quickly scans over it while he gets comfortable on the stool. Suddenly, his eyes flick upward and cat
ch Carlos’s gaze. There’s a silent conversation that passes between them before Anthony scans the crowd. Has he figured it out? Is he looking for me? I’m still hidden behind the curtain, and I almost step out onto the stage, but Niloo stops me.
“Not yet.”
The energy sets my limbs on fire, my fingers and toes tingling uncontrollably.
When Anthony doesn’t find who he’s looking for, he smiles to himself, looking down at the lyrics in his hand, and my heart begins to soar. He lowers the microphone stand and gives Carlos a quick nod. Even from this distance, I can see his excitement, causing a rush of hopefulness to course through my veins.
Carlos readjusts his guitar strap and taps his foot four times. The band begins playing the chords in perfect unison, the sound slow and seductive as it fills the amphitheater. Niloo says something but I can’t hear it over the pounding in my ears.
Anthony waits a few bars then his voice eases into the melody, full and rich, raspy and haunting. As the words of my heart pour out into the arena, I feel vulnerable and exposed.
All alone, in this dying world
Without you by my side
I close my eyes and all I see
Is you holding me
We used to laugh, and even share our fears
Each and every night
And then one day, you disappeared
Leaving me in tears
Tell me why, why the sun won’t shine on me
Why the world won’t set me free
Why life feels so unsweet
Please tell me why
Why my heart still aches and moans
Why you won’t be coming home
Why I feel so alone
Baby, tell me why
Dreams in life have been torn apart ever since you went away
Cries and screams from within my heart
Leaving so much to say
I don’t realize I’m crying until Niloo puts her arm around me and we sway in time to Carlos’s guitar riffs and Anthony’s baritone. And when Carlos makes his way over, taking my hand, I allow him to pull me onto the stage, knowing one way or another, my future starts now.
Set to Music Page 28