Love, in English

I missed him. No, missing him wasn’t even the right word. I yearned for him, pined for him. I needed him. Something inside me was empty and aching in his absence, like flowers during the night. He was my sun, he was my everything.

I held the phone in my hand, staring at the text, wondering if I should respond, wondering how I couldn’t. And yet there was this block inside of me, the moral part that was showing its head too late and trying to make up for past grievances. It prevented me from texting back, even though it killed me inside.

I fell asleep in a river of tears, wondering if I’d ever feel whole again, if this pain would ever make me stop hating myself.

Apparently, I still needed to be punished.

Chapter Thirty

A few days after Mateo’s lone text, Josh finally called. It was Friday night, nearly a week since I had left Mateo. Claudia, Ricardo, Rocco and I were sitting on the couch watching the Spanish version of The Voice. I was going through the motions, telling myself that everything was going to be all right, fooling myself into thinking this was just a hiccup in my life to overcome.

Mateo couldn’t have been my one true love. I was only twenty-three. The cynic in me knew that the odds of me ever finding the right person were skewed toward my late twenties, particularly for the kind of lifestyle I lived.

The romantic part of me knew that love happened at any age. As Claudia had said, it had no regard for time.

I picked up my cell from the coffee table and answered it. “Hey, Josh.”

I tried to sound breezy, as if everything wasn’t riding on it. I failed. My voice cracked, and Claudia and Ricardo looked over at me in worry.

I got up, shooting them a quick apologetic look, and took the call out onto the balcony. The weather had turned so fast, as if it were mimicking my situation. I pulled my cardigan close around me. “Yes, what is it?” I said into the phone.

“Hey,” he said. “How are you?”

“Shitty,” I said. “Any luck in getting me home?”

He sighed. “No. I’m sorry, Vera. Mom said no. She did, however, say you could return home if you apologized.”

Normally I would have scoffed at that and told him she could go fuck herself. But I was tired of doing that. I’d already started to make the peace here in Spain, and I needed to continue. My pride didn’t matter so much. If Mateo could do things he didn’t want to do to keep the peace with Isabel, I could do the same with my mom.

“Okay,” I said with a sigh. “Thanks for trying.”

“So you’re actually going to apologize to Mom?” he asked incredulously.

“First things first,” I told him. “I’ll get a way home, then I will tell her I’m wrong, admit I was sorry, whatever.”

“Dude,” he said. “I’m not saying that you and Mom shouldn’t try and get along, but this doesn’t sound like you at all.”

“Maybe I’m growing up,” I told him. “Maybe I need to make some changes in my life.”

“Right,” he said slowly. “I’m still worried that you’ve been replaced by a robot. Since when have you ever cared about doing the right thing? You’re Miss Rebellious, always have been.”

“Maybe when I saw firsthand what the damage was like,” I said. “What I leave in my wake.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Vera,” he scoffed.

“It’s all I know how to be,” I remarked softly. Well, if my mom wasn’t going to help, that meant I’d be waiting another week for Claudia. I hated knowing I owed people but in this case I had no choice.

“Well,” he said, “keep me posted on whatever you do. I’ll let Mom know though, so if she calls you in the next few days, you’ll know why. Don’t freak out.”

“I won’t.”

“Love ya.”

“Love ya too.”

I hung up and leaned out on the balcony railing. From Claudia’s apartment, the city lights were further away. You could kind of see some of the stars in that big velvet sky. They were fighting to get through all the light pollution and the haze, but they still managed to shine.

That night I had a beautiful dream.

I was laying on the grass out in that field, beneath that big oak tree, with Mateo by my side. Wildflowers grew all around us and up the trunk, spreading their colors across the leaves.

“Do you know why I call you Estella?” Mateo asked, lacing his fingers with mine and raising our hands up into the big blue sky.

“Why?”

“Because you are my star,” he said, his voice low and smooth, raising the hairs on my arms. “You shine brighter than the sun.”

“But even the sun goes away every night.”

“But it is the sun’s absence that makes us feel its power. We know the loss, the beauty and the life that the moon can’t replace. That is why we hang on to each day we are given. That is why I hang on to you.” He lowered our hands and kissed my knuckles. “I love you, Vera. I’ve had the moon, the dark, the cold, for too long. I want my star back. My Estrella.”

He kissed me next, his mouth tasting as I remembered, his stubble rough as my fingers traced his jaw. His eyes were deep and luminous, begging me to stay with him, to bring him the warmth we both needed.

“And what if I was only supposed to burn for a certain amount of time?” I whispered. “What if I was only meant to shine for a while?”

“Then you truly don’t know what stars are meant to do.”

I looked at him in wonder.

“They are meant to give us hope in the face of infinity.”

He kissed me again, his warm hands on my skin.

Then it all faded to black.

I slowly woke up.

My cheeks were wet. My lips tasted like sunshine.

Four more days rolled past, days that went too quickly or too slowly, depending on my mood. Everyone was looking to Friday, the day that Claudia would get paid, the day I would book my plane ticket back home. In those four days, I talked to my mother and apologized to her. It went about as well as I thought it would. I felt utterly humiliated, having to admit I was wrong, that I made a bad choice. She sounded cold as always, though near the end of the conversation, she was conceding a bit.

“I would pay for your ticket, Vera,” she said. “It’s not a matter of punishment here, I just can’t swing it. Not with Mercy’s wedding.”

Of course. I rolled my eyes and yet still managed to ask my mom how the wedding was going. For some reason, I thought the wedding pla

I told her not to worry about it, that I now had a way home and just had to pay my friend back. She sounded vaguely happy about that, which gave me a smidgen of hope for my return. Hope was a dangerous thing, I knew, but it didn’t stop your heart from latching on to it like a life raft.

Thursday night, however, the night before Claudia’s paycheck, my mother called me back.

“Vera?” she asked.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, panic never too far away from me. Did something happen to Josh? Dad? Mercy?

“Nothing,” she said. “Nothing at all. I just called to let you know that I bought you a ticket home.”

“What?” I asked, completely floored.

“It’s on Sunday at five p.m., a red-eye. Do you have a pen? I have a confirmation number for you here.”

I scrambled for a pen, totally blown away. I hated owing my mom, but I knew deep down she could afford it. Claudia couldn’t. She had signed up for a big favor by offering to lend me a thousand dollars for my flight home, and I would have been eaten by guilt until I paid her back, something that would have taken a long time.

My mother told me the number and I wrote it down with all the details. Five p.m., Air Canada, on Sunday. Stopover in Toronto with a four hour layover. It all sounded like hell, but I didn’t care at this point.