By that time the next day, I was in an airport in New York City. My brother met me there during my layover. He offered me money but I refused. I looked at pictures of his kids, whom I hadn’t seen since they were babies. I hugged Daniel for a long time and promised to stay in better contact with him. While we hugged, he reminded me that I was not responsible for our mother’s happiness, only my own, and then he apologized for not being there for me more after Jake died. We cried in each other’s arms. At first it was uncomfortable to hug him; some level of childhood embarrassment still lingered between us. But after a few moments, I felt a sad familiarity in his embrace. His voice sounded like my father’s, minus the heavy accent. He was tall for a Spaniard, and as he got older, I could see that his mannerisms were almost identical to my father’s.
“You’re starting to look just like Mom when she was young,” he said, echoing my own train of thought.
“Does it scare you how much we’re like them?”
“No. There is a likeness, Ava.” He laughed. “You’re so young still. I know you kind of got the worst of it. When Dad got sick, I was already on my own and you had to deal with Mom. I’m sorry, I really am, and I’m so sorry about Jake, too. I want you to know, you’re way stronger than Mom was after Dad died. You’ve done everything on your own. Still, I can tell you don’t have much faith in yourself. I think that’s what’s holding you back from having faith in others and opening up to them. But you can change that. Even Mom has changed. You’ll see. You have a long life ahead of you to figure out who you want to be.”
“I wonder how different things would be now if I had come out to live with you instead of marrying Jake.”
“Do you remember what Dad always used to say?”
I shook my head searching for the answer.
Daniel laughed. “He would say, in his broken English, of course, ‘Forward ever, backward never.’ ”
“Oh yes, I do remember now.” My eyes welled up again. “Why aren’t we closer, Daniel?”
“It’s never too late,” he said before walking me to the security line.
CHAPTER 22
Heart Lost
Nathanial
After Ava left the hospital, I went straight into surgery for sixteen hours. The heart transplant wasn’t a success. The man’s body rejected it so severely that we couldn’t keep him alive. I came out of surgery feeling like shit that I’d lost two hearts that day, not to mention guilty at the thought of Ava taking the bus home alone, so hurt and upset with me.
I texted her and called her a million times to no avail. Several days passed where I was stuck at the hospital, sleeping in the on-call rooms and feeling like the walls were closing in on me. On Wednesday, Uncle Dale gave me a pity call.
“Hello?”
“Hello, son.”
“Where is she?” I said, bone-weary and exhausted.
“She went to Spain.”
I bit my lip and felt my eyes water. Frustration and anger sent a rush of blood to my head. “Why? Why would she do that?”
“Nate, you have to realize that Ava was so young when she came to the ranch. She was barely nineteen. She might’ve been married but she wasn’t yet grown, you know? She still isn’t.”
“Yeah, I guess.” My voice was low.
“Trish used to say that Ava just froze in time when Jake died. She didn’t talk to anybody for years. Nobody really knows where she went all that time. She was locked away somewhere in her own misery or guilt. She wasn’t growing up emotionally.”
“What are you telling me?”
“Women are complicated.”
“I’m aware.”
“Do you love her?”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means you worry about her when she’s driving two and a half hours in the dark.”
I felt a stabbing ache in my chest. “I feel awful about that.”
“That doesn’t mean you love her.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“Are you asking for my advice?”
“No.”
“Too bad. You’re capable of love and you need to fucking show her that, Nate. Show her that you will be there for her. That’s it. You think that the demand of your job is some sort of excuse to neglect the people in your life who care about you? Ask your dad what to do. He made it work, and I don’t remember ever hearing stories about your mom sleeping in the cold cab of a truck in a parking lot.”
I took a deep breath through my nose. Feeling resigned, I simply said, “Thanks, Uncle Dale. I’ll think about it.”
I hung up the phone and immediately dialed my father and asked him what I should do. His answer was simple.
“Go to Spain, you dimwit.”
“Wow, Dad. Thanks.”
“It’s like everything comes easy to you, Nate, except for this.”
“Well, it’s a bit hard for me to just up and leave.”