I crutch-walked as fast as I could toward the checkpoint, continuing to call her name. I saw a TSA agent look up and step toward me, but suddenly, there was a commotion up front, and Luisa bulled her way out of line, her eyes alight as she ran the short distance to me. I pulled her in close, kissing her hard, our lips joining as she threw her arms around my neck. "Tomasso . . .”
"Luisa," I whispered, our foreheads touching. "Before you leave, I have to say it. I can't let you go without saying it."
"I love you," she said before I could get it out, laughing and crying at the same time. "I love you, Tomasso Bertoli."
"I love you, Luisa," I whispered back, laughing too. "Why'd you get to say it first?"
"It's good manners," she laughed, smiling again. "Ladies first. Besides, you don't want me bitching at you about it, do you?"
"No," I said, kissing her again. "I promise, somehow, we'll be together again. I'm not letting you go that easily."
An announcement came over the intercom that pre-boarding was starting for Luisa's flight, and she looked up. "Okay. I'll hold you to that. Or else, I’ll come back to Seattle and kick your ass."
"Okay. Get going, I'll email you," I said, letting her go. I went as far forward as I could, watching as she went through security and toward the gates. I watched for another minute before making my way to the window. I didn't know for sure. Things weren't like before 9/11 when you knew for sure which plane your loved one was on, but I kept watch until after the departure time, waving at each Delta airliner that lifted off the runway. When I was sure she was in the air, I reached into my pocket and texted Daniel, who met me in the drop-off zone.
"You look about a thousand percent better than you did an hour ago," he said as I sat down. "You okay?"
“We said what needed to be said," I replied simply. "Sometimes, that's all you need."
Chapter 18
Luisa
Porto Alegre was my home. I never wanted to go to Seattle, but I followed my father’s wishes. Now, I felt sick to my stomach as I returned to my homeland. As my Avianca flight descended on final approach toward Salgado Filho Airport, I had to chuckle under my breath at the irony. Then, I'd have given anything to be back in Porto Alegre. Now, I felt the same way about Seattle.
I was met at the gate by my brother, Vincente, who was the middle of my three brothers. There was Mateus, the youngest of the whole family, who was the military nut, and then there was Eduardo, the oldest of us all, although only four months older than me. That was the way my father had relationships with women, and something that I never liked.
"Luisa. Back safely, I see," Vincente said nonchalantly. "Your ass didn't get too fat, at least."
"Fuck off, Vincente. I'm not in the mood for your shit," I retorted. There was a reason I was such a bitch to men when I met them at first. My brothers were all brought up to think that they were superior to any woman and that they could order us around at will. It had been twenty-two long, hard years of fighting that perception that had, in addition to my heartbreak, caused me to be that way. It was either be a bitch and hold my own, or get trampled on. Vincente was the worst, but Eduardo wasn’t much better. "Where's your truck?"
"I got it, I got it. Shit, I thought spending some time with the Americans would have mellowed you out. Come on."
I rode in Vincente's truck back to our family home in Tres Figuerias, one of the neighborhoods of Porto Alegre. It's the family city-based home, with our larger home out in the countryside nearby. It was convenient for use when we were inside the city and had been in the family since the late nineteen sixties. Vincente pulled up to the house and parked, getting out and walking off, probably to go play video games or something. "Father's inside."
I watched him go and sighed. Vincente always had been the laziest of all of us. All he wanted to be was a gangster, and not in the good way, having watched far too many movies for his own good.
I got out of the truck and walked inside. “Father, I'm home," I greeted after knocking.
"My darling, so good to have you back!" he said, getting out of his seat and coming over, kissing me on both cheeks. "I missed having you around."
It was perhaps the only reason I didn't join my mother in Rio, the need my father had for me. He may not have ever seen me as the man to take his place, but he did value my work and my input, even with his machismo.
"Thank you, Father. But I see the city hasn't burned without me, and nobody seems to be in jail. You must be trying to flatter me."
He laughed and shook his head. "Hardly. But you look tired. I’m sure you must be exhausted."
"I am a bit worn out," I said, not admitting that I'd slept most of the way from Seattle to Sao Paulo, where I'd gotten on the Avianca flight for the last leg of my journey home. I just didn't want to be home, that was all. “But I'm sure you have many questions."
"Oh, they can wait," he said dismissively. “We can talk about it tomorrow over lunch. I’d like to hear more about these Bertolis that we now call our friends."
“Yes, father,” I said, knowing that what he really wanted was all the little gossip and dirt I could spew. The sad part was, I had more than plenty, but that could cut both ways. “For now, I think I'll just rest in my room."