She shook her head, looking up at me for the first time in a half-hour. Her eyes were full of pain, and she looked like she was about to cry. "I need this time alone—I'll see you at dinner."
I swallowed and nodded, crutch-walking out to the pool and taking a seat next to the table. I watched the late afternoon sun reflect on the pool, the never repeating but still strangely familiar patterns of the sun against the pool bottom lulling me into at least a half-stupor. I was startled when I heard the screen door to the mansion slide shut, and I looked to see my cousin crossing the pool deck toward me. She looked healthy and happy, and despite the sadness of the day, I was glad to see her. "Hey, Red."
"Hey, Tommy," she said before stopping to correct herself. "Sorry . . . Tomasso."
I shook my head, waving it off. “How're you doing?"
"Better than you are, from the looks of it," she said, taking the chair next to me. "You look like someone just gave you a terminal diagnosis. From what Uncle Carlo said, you should be doing backflips into the deep end of the pool. Or at least doing fist pumps."
I didn't react to her little joke, and she tried again. "You know, I start up my senior year soon. Classes start just after your birthday. Any advice?”
"No," I said, looking back into the pool. "You got everything you need out of college anyways. You've got the skills and you've got the vision. This year is just going to be a breeze for you."
"So she leaves tomorrow?"
"Early flight . . .” I rasped, my voice catching in my throat. I coughed twice, then tried again. "Early flight," I repeated, more clear this time.
Adriana nodded. "And then?"
I shrugged. "What is there to say? She goes back to Brazil, and I go back to work and rehab. We'll swap emails for a while, maybe a video call once in a while, but life will get in the way. She'll miss a call, I'll miss an email, and suddenly, we're realizing that we haven't heard from each other in three or four months, and the pain won't be as bad as we thought it would be. Life goes on."
She looked at me and shook her head. "It doesn't have to be that way. You could tell her how you feel."
“I don’t have to—she knows. She’s committed to her father and her family . . . I can’t ask her to leave that. Besides, her father would never allow it. What can I do?"
"I don't know," Adriana said. "Promise me one thing, though."
"What?"
"Tell her before she leaves, even if you think she already knows. Miracles do happen. I should know."
The next morning, Daniel dropped us off at SeaTac. The skycap came around and took Luisa's bags, and we went to check-in, where she showed her passport and got her e-reservation stamped. "First class, just like your father promised," she whispered as she looked at the boarding pass. "Thank him for me."
"I will," I said. My eyes were red, although with sadness or exhaustion, I wasn't sure. We'd made love one last time the night before, tears mixing with our other sounds as we were sure it would be our last time. I hadn't slept, afraid to miss any second or shared moment I had left with her. She’d been the same way, and this morning, both of us looked like hell. Breakfast was nothing more than a quick mug of what Daniel called 'ultra bulletproof coffee,' meant to combine caffeine with enough calories to keep us both going till lunch. I had no idea how many spoonfuls of coconut oil he had stirred in, but it was something I never wanted to drink again.
"Do you have your book?" I asked, trying to think of anything to say.
"Yes—thank you," she said, patting her backpack. I'd given her the book she'd picked out for me during my stay in the hospital, and on the inside, I'd written my email as well as my phone number. "I don't know how much I'm going to read on the flight, though. I'll probably be asleep before I even reach cruising altitude."
“I’m exhausted too,” I said, walking slowly. Ahead, we could see the start of the security checkpoints where we had to part ways. I looked up at the clock, hating that the damn thing seemed to be going so fast. "Shit."
She looked up at the clock, then at the line. "Yes. Shit."
She turned to me, blinking back tears. "Okay—well give me a hug, and I'll email you when I get home," she said, wiping at her cheeks with the heels of her hands. "There's no need to make a scene, right?"
"Right," I said, pulling her close. We hugged, and I gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Get some rest. I’ll email you later."
Luisa stepped back, both of us having tears trickling down our cheeks as she turned and headed toward the checkpoint. She got in line, right behind an old lady, and was quickly three deep in the line. Only her height and her beautiful blonde hair let me watch as she made her way toward the metal detector.
Suddenly, I couldn't take it anymore. "Luisa! LUISA!"