As much as I hated it, I needed to hear it. Cap had been with me through some of the most physically and emotionally challenging times in my life. He’d pulled me out of the dark, gave me a purpose when I thought I had none, and recemented years of confidence that had weathered away. He wasn’t pushing me out of spite, he was pushing me out of love.
“I’m not about to sit here and watch another Vanessa happen to you, brother,” he continued. “This is not that. This is someone kind and good. She cares about you like I want you to be cared about. You know me, I put my faith in no one but my fucking family, and it’s my job to make sure you’re okay. I wouldn’t be doing this if I thought you weren’t.”
“This is nothing like Vanessa.” I scoffed at that comparison. Her image was like taking off your glasses—blurred edges, foggy details. Ophelia was clarity. “I’m not even sure I was ever actually in love with Vanessa after the last three weeks.”
Mateo turned toward me in his chair, the corners of his mouth widening into deep dimples. “Do you hear what you just said, man?”
“What?”
“You’re in love with her.”
My skin prickled. Was I? Was real, romantic love something I’d never known, so I couldn’t explain it with Ophelia? Maybe subliminally I thought I didn’t deserve to feel it, so I hadn’t even let myself try.
These were the reflections I never would have spent time harping on before.
“What do I do?”
“You go,” Cap pressed. “Get your shit together, stop feeling sorry for yourself in the backyard, and do something about it.”
“Go?” I laughed. “Go where? To Colorado? I don’t even have a job there. I don’t have a house. I know one person, who, as you so graciously pointed out, is hopping on a plane right now to return to her family, her job, her life—all these things that make sense for her to do.”
“You’re being a bitch again.” Cap stood, his body blocking the low-hanging sun in front of me. “If the interviews go well, which they will, then you’ll be moving out there soon anyway, Pike. Why wait?”
“What if they don’t?” I battled. “I go out there with nothing, I don’t get the job, I’m out of my element, I leave my mom and my sister and you. I need some guarantees here.”
“You have one,” he reminded me. “And so fucking what if that happens? You’ll figure it out like you always do. Your mom and your sister are fine, they told you themselves. Maria is in good hands; she has someone who loves her, Addy close by. You can visit whenever you get the chance, or she can fly out to see you. There is nothing holding you back right now but fear, man. Fear cannot control you forever.”
I ground my teeth together enough to make my jaw hurt. The worst part about being stubborn and self-effacing was the cement-in-your-stomach feeling when someone else was right. I could live in my ditch of safety, or I could decide to finally do something for myself that was frightening as much as it was thrilling. I was one decision away.
One thing I couldn’t argue was that I wanted her morning, afternoon, and night. I wanted snowstorms in the mountains, and summers by the lake. I wanted all the rest of my firsts to be hers—first homes, first children, first face I saw every day when I woke up. I wanted to meet her parents and her siblings. I wanted to be there to fill all of her worries with hope and doubts with promises.
I wanted Ophelia.
Across the lawn a fleck of blue caught my eye, swooping in circles, idling on the edge of the bushes. All doubt got stuck in my throat as a Monarch landed, basking on the flowery branches like a bright little omen.
I thought of my mother looking for my dad in the butterflies. The way I adopted that strange, hopeful superstition into my life. There was a necklace hanging from Ophelia’s neck to prove it. And it was too perfect to be a coincidence.
“Did Tally drop her off at the airport yet?” I asked, bounding to my feet.
Mateo followed me into the house, cell phone to his ear. “Calling her right now.”
43
Somehow being dropped off at the airport in sunny Florida was worse than being left in the shitty snow at the terminal in Colorado. I would take negative temperatures and a blizzard any day over being forced to hastily hug Natalia goodbye with a symphony of car horns rushing us along.
“I can’t believe this is it.” She frowned, throwing her arms around me as I dragged my suitcase out of the backseat of the car. It landed with a thump that sounded exactly like how I felt. “We can’t wait this long to see each other ever again.”
“We won't.” I squeezed her tightly. “We have a wedding to plan anyway. I’ll see you in a couple months, tops.”
“Let’s hope Matty doesn’t kill me first. I’m pretty sure he’s organized all my emails into spam.” Nat rolled her eyes. “Men.”
The car’s hazard lights flickered, a stench of exhaust filling the tunnel we were idling in. I bent down and extended my suitcase handle. “Thank you for everything. I needed it. This was the best holiday I could have ever asked for.”
“Let’s do it again…next Christmas?” she offered.
Coconut Creek becoming a tradition was a somewhat terrifying prospect, one that required a level of self-reflection that I’d only just reached thanks to the last three weeks. Regardless, it tugged on a sentimental heartstring and gave me the bleakest taste of hope. “Definitely.”
A mist clouded over Natalia’s eyes, and like a yawn it was contagious to me. I pulled her into another hug and we wiggled back and forth. “It’s gonna be fine,” I assured her. “I’m going to get so drunk right now that I go full Kristen Wiig in Bridesmaids on the flight and hopefully pass out for the entire thing.”
“Maybe not full,” she suggested. “I can’t imagine something worse than having the spins at thirty thousand feet.”
“It’s happening.” I shrugged, backing away. “I need distraction. Mind-numbing forgetfulness.”
“God, he was really that good?”
“There are at least four mimosas speaking in my ears right now.” I pitched my voice higher, getting closer and closer to the terminal door. “Ophelia, drink us… Drink us!”
“I’m seeing a lot of regret and fancy airline paper bags in your future,” Nat groaned. Her phone started ringing and she slipped it out of her pocket. “It’s Mateo,” she announced as I retreated with a sinister smile. “At least eat a bagel or something first!”
“Tell him I said bye!” I shouted. “I love you!”
“Love you, text me when you land!”
I filed inside, finding first the dreaded check-in, then the mile-long security line. My back ached as I kicked my carry-on of perfectly organized gifts along the slow-moving queue, only to have every present removed and inspected as if it were filled with gunpowder.
I should have expected that.
I fucking hated airports.