She leaned closer, scanning his face, and whispered, “I see you,” directly into his heart. That’s when Nathan stopped fighting. He stopped pretending that he wasn’t hopelessly in love with this woman. He lifted her hand and trailed kisses over her fingers, knuckle by knuckle, bracing himself for what he knew was coming.
“And I want you. But wanting something doesn’t mean you should have it.” She pulled her hand away. “I won’t let you make the same mistake I did. You could lose everything,” she said. He knew that by everything, she meant the show, the press, and the possibility that this could lead to an actual career. But she was also saying they weren’t worth it. That he should ignore how sitting this close made his body feel like it would crack and burn. How could she look at him as if he were oxygen one minute and hold her breath the next?
“Do you want me to stay away?” he asked. “Is that what you need?” She looked so panicked at the suggestion that he added quickly, “Or we can be friends.” It was a lie, but she knew that, right? He could hear the desperation in his voice. “I’m a good listener, remember?”
The way she looked at him and nodded—she knew. This was a Band-Aid over a gaping wound.
Rachel’s photos were original prints. Nathan offered to scan them into digital files, because it seemed like something a “friend” would do. He also wanted a chance to look through them at his own pace. Three days of sifting through the photos in his apartment introduced him to a younger Rachel, with devious grins and long languid limbs draped in clothes that typically left something bare. He thought about that collage, and the way her professor had shamed her for submitting it. The woman in those pictures wasn’t ashamed of anything. She was the center of the universe. Combustive. She leaned into the camera with a cigarette in one hand, laughing so hard it made her eyes squint. This was the woman at the drive-in. Buried and resurrected through pain. The woman he loved.
Nathan was interrupted by a knock on his door. He opened it and stood motionless, staring at Beto on his stair landing, waiting to be let inside. Beto’s gruff voice snapped him out of his trance. “Are you going to invite me in?”
His father strolled around and studied each component of Nathan’s apartment like a landlord conducting an inspection. He stopped occasionally to glare at something that irritated him. The leather couch was too flashy and the PlayStation was too childish. The drawing table, however, was ignored.
“It’s a nice place,” Beto said. “I wasn’t sure what to expect with the, uh…” He snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor.
“The laundromat?”
“Yeah, downstairs. One of my cousins had a place over his bodega. Looked like a storeroom with a mattress on the floor. But that’s never been your style.” He glanced at the closet. “Nice car, fancy shoes. Didn’t run away from everything, did you?”
Nathan ignored the criticism. He wasn’t a teenager with an allowance anymore. He had brokerage accounts and a financial advisor, which meant he didn’t have to justify his spending habits to his father. “Why are you here?”
“I was driving by and saw your car outside. Figured I’d say hello.”
“I’ve lived here for eight years. You’ve never stopped by before.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, well, I never had cancer before either.”
Nathan couldn’t argue with that. They sank into an awkward silence, both at a loss for what to say next. “Do you want to sit down?” Nathan asked. “Have a drink?”
“A drink would be nice.” Beto paused and added, “Thank you,” like he’d been invited to a tea party.
Nathan walked into the kitchen and hesitated. “Uh… water?”
“Booze, Nathaniel.”
“Right.” Nathan grabbed a bottle of bourbon and poured generously.
“What’s all this? You taking pictures now?” Beto was staring at the photos. Nathan wasn’t sure if his father knew Rachel well enough to recognize her twenty-year-old self.
“Just doing a favor for a friend,” Nathan said, handing over the drink.
His father took a sip and sat on the couch. “Lady friend?”
Nathan sat and did his best not to look at the photos. “It’s a woman, yeah.”
“Amazing how helpful we are when there’s a pretty girl involved.” Beto settled into the couch and crossed his legs. It was jarring for Nathan to see his father relax in his living room. Beto always seemed guarded, like he could never trust a good thing to stay good. This version, with his easy smile, was a stranger. “Did I ever tell you how I met your mother?”
Nathan sipped his drink before answering. “I think Mom told us about it once.”
Beto waved his hand. “That’s her story. I never told you mine.”
“Is there a difference?”
“When two people fall in love?” Beto smiled that crooked smile everyone said was identical to Nathan’s. “Always.”
According to Sofia, Beto was the opposite of the man she thought she’d marry. He was cocky and arrogant, two unattractive traits to his mother, who was admittedly vain and wanted all the attention. When Beto finally proposed, too soon and with an enormous princess-cut ring that she hated, it took a while for her to say yes. “Not because I didn’t want to. But because I knew I would say yes to everything after. It’s frightening to love someone that much.”
“She was dating someone else when we met,” Beto said. “Nelson something. White guy with big teeth. I think they were veneers, but she swears to this day they were his. She had this guy ready to propose. But one look at them together and I knew she wasn’t in love with him.” Beto drained the last of his bourbon and tapped the glass. “You have any mezcal?”
“No, just this and beer.”
“I should have taught you how to keep a bar.”
Beto continued his story, recalling how they had met in Miami, on the set of Sofia’s telenovela. The CEO Beto was courting for a merger was a fan of the show, and Sofia played his favorite character, Lourdes Santana, the red-lipped femme fatale. Beto got backstage access to win him over. “She comes out—you know your mother—she’s wearing this sheer robe.” He chuckled, and nodded his thanks when Nathan handed him another drink. “Beautiful body. An hourglass, with huge—”
“Dad, no.”
“Sorry. You get it. She was gorgeous. And I wanted her.” He took a deep breath. “It was her eyes. You could fall into those eyes, right? Never stop, just keep going.” He glanced at Nathan and cleared his throat. “We walk into her dressing room, and there’s this guy in the corner holding her purse. Now, I’m all for gender equality, but seriously. He’s holding her purse. A woman like that, it’s not where your hands should be.”
Nathan shuddered. “Please move on.”
Beto paused to drink before continuing. “This next part I’m not proud of. Your mother had every right to knock me on my ass. But as everyone’s saying goodbye, I pull her away from him. I’d never do that shit now. It’s classless. But she was getting away from me and I couldn’t let that happen. She looked up and—” His voice caught, and he looked at his fingers. “Those goddamn eyes.”