by RH Tucker
“I don’t know everything, but Micah said you were right. You, Veronica.”
“I know what he said, Yessi! I don’t need to have it thrown in my face again,” I scream at her, then immediately feel horrible. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
More tears slide down my face. And here I thought I’d be okay today, with all of the boys out of the house. “No, it’s not okay. I’m not mad at you, or anyone really. I’m mad at myself. I … I’m the one with the problem. Yeah, Micah’s got stuff to work out, too, but none of this would’ve happened if I’d told him from the start.”
She holds a finger to her lips, analyzing me. “Would you come back to our place really quick? I want to show you something.”
“What?”
She reaches down and gives my hand a comforting squeeze. “Like I said, I don’t know everything. But I have an idea. I don’t know if it’ll work, but …” Trailing off, she looks away. “You might not think it, but I know a little of what you’re going through.”
Yesenia is thin. Not like a stick, but she’s definitely smaller than I am, so I’m positive she hasn’t a clue what I’m going through. But she motions for me to follow her, offering me a soft smile, and I don’t have any reason for alarm, so I follow along.
The guest house they stay in, their ‘home away from home’ as Tomás likes to call it, is small. Maybe the size of Micah and Taylor’s apartment. It has a tiny bedroom, small kitchenette, and one bathroom. I don’t come over much, mostly because it’s in the backyard, so why would I? It’s their home. But it’s nice.
Walking through the double doors, I see they have a little TV set up with a love sofa. There’s a small sign on the wall with painted daisies and petunias, and underneath the flowers, it reads, ‘Our love is our home.’ I know Tomás isn’t very choosy when it comes to interior design, so I’m sure everything in here—the small red and yellow rug, a glass vase with more flowers, and even two small fuchsia placemats on their little, kitchen table with just two chairs—must’ve all been picked out by Yesenia.
I fight back more tears. No matter my insecurities, I had let my mind drift from time to time with Micah. Wondering if we ever lived together, what I’d pick out for our place.
“This way,” Yesenia calls, and I see her open the door to their bedroom.
“Um.” I look back at the door we just came in and then around the living area. “Are you sure?”
She offers another warm smile and nods, before walking in, leaving the door open for me. Skittishly, I follow her into their small bedroom.
Just like outside, everything in the bedroom is nice and neat. Beige and light green sheets and blankets cover their bed, along with an abundance of pillows. There’s a small dresser and sitting on top of it are a few pictures. One of them looks like it’s of Tomás and Yesenia when they first started dating. Another is of the boys, all gathered around the pool. There’s also one of Yesenia and myself. Walking over to the dresser, I pick it up and examine it closer. It looks like I was fifteen, so they must’ve been together for a couple years. Yesenia’s still beautiful, her hair a little shorter than it is now. Me, still chubby.
“Tomás loves that picture,” Yesenia remarks.
“Ugh, look at me,” I groan out.
Letting out a giggle, she walks over and bumps my hip with hers. “You look cute. Tomás says it’s his favorite picture with his two favorite girls.”
Placing it back down, my heart warms with the thought of my big brother loving me.
“Take a seat on the bed.” She motions to it and heads over to their closet.
I cringe, looking over my shoulder. Gross, Veronica. Do not think about your brother and his wife like that. Fighting away the thoughts, I lift a knee and sit on the edge.
Holding what looks like a small shoebox, she shuts the closet door behind her and then walks back over to the dresser. Opening the top drawer, she pulls out a bra, and I lift an eyebrow, unsure what she’s doing.
She fiddles nervously with the bra, letting out a sigh. My eyes find hers, and an anxious smile hits her.
“So, this is awkward, but I hope it might help you.” She lifts up the bra. “Obviously, you know what this is.” I nod, still not looking at it. “Here, take it.”
Gritting my teeth, I gingerly take it from her. I’m not exactly sure what we’re doing, so I simply hold it, keeping my eyes on her. She laughs. “Look at it, Veronica.”
Nervously, I turn the bra around in my hands. It’s a cute peach color, with a little lace on it, but it seems different. Examining the inside, I find a pocket on each cup, and look back at Yesenia, unsure.
“Pockets?” I ask.
She nods. “They’re for my forms.”
“Your forms?” I squint, looking back at the bra. Suddenly I’m hit with realization and drop the bra, bringing my hands to my mouth. “Ohmygod. Oh … Yessi … are you … do you …”
With a simple smile, something I don’t know how she’s doing now, she picks up the bra from my lap and casually folds it in her hands. “I did. In a few months, I’ll be cancer-free for nine years.”
“I never knew. No one told me.”
“No one in your family knows, other than Tomás and your parents. Some people know I had cancer, but it’s something I still struggle with. Mostly because of everything that happened. This,” she holds up the bra, “took me a long time to reveal to Tomás.”
“I can’t even begin to imagine.”
Her words are soft, but she’s not crying or even tearing up. She seems so strong. She’s always seemed strong, even when she broke her leg. But hearing that she’s struggled with something, too, adds a new depth to her. And it also makes my insecurities feel completely inadequate in comparison.
“I’d show you the forms, but …” she nervously giggles, “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”
“Why are you even telling me this? I mean, thank you for trusting me, but … why?”
“After that day with Micah and Tomás, he told me about it that night. At first, he was angry, and rightfully so. But after I thought about it, what he told me Micah said, I got to thinking. Veronica, please tell me if I’m wrong, but do you really think Micah’s too good for you?”
I take a long breath. “I mean, not like I’m a bad person or something. Not like that. But … yeah, I do. Yessi, you’ve seen him. And … look at me.”
She gives me a disapproving look but doesn’t say anything.
“I wish I didn’t feel like that, but I do.”
Sliding closer, she puts her hand on top of mine. “And that’s why I’m telling you this. When I heard that you know what I thought? I thought of myself. I was nineteen, Vero. Nineteen years old and not a care in the world, kind of like you are now. My grandmother had cancer, and my mom, too. But I was nineteen and was living my life. I didn’t pay any attention to a small, weird thing I felt. Whatever, I thought it was just something that’d go away. But then I was twenty, laying in a hospital, crying myself to sleep every night with my mom holding my hand, because I’d just had a double mastectomy.”
Tears are already running down my cheeks, and I’m amazed to still see her holding steady. Then again, she’s probably much stronger than me after going through something like that.
“After a couple years, friends tried to get me to go out on dates, but I couldn’t. What if something started between him and me? What if one thing led to another and I’d have to show myself to him? I couldn’t do that. Then Tomás came around.
“He tried, Vero, but I was not having it. No way. There was going to be no way I’d let myself be that vulnerable with someone. He’d come around to where I was working at the time and just say hi. I was a receptionist at a law office. I think your dad had an account for the building manager, and they were remodeling some offices. Tomás saw a coffee drink I had one day and randomly throughout the week, he’d stop by and leave me one. I got to thinking, if I was going to try, it’d be with him. Plus, he’s got a cute
butt.”
I laugh through my tears. “Okay, please don’t talk about my brother’s butt.”
Letting out a laugh of her own, she stares at her bra and sighs. “So, we started dating.”
“And they lived happily ever after,” I say with a giggle.
“I wish,” she chuckles back. “We’d go out, and start kissing—”
“Okay, I really don’t want to be rude, but I don’t know if I have it in me to listen to stories about my brother making out.”
Another laugh and she swats my shoulder playfully. “Fine, my point is, and this part is important, so don’t get grossed out. He wanted to escalate things. I did, too. But I was so scared, Veronica. Only my mother had ever seen me naked since the surgery, and that was just because it was hard to get dressed by myself in the beginning. I have these bras, but in all honesty, I don’t need them. I have them because they make me feel good. But without them, it’s just … scars. How in the world would I ever be able to show that to him? Your brother is a saint, he really is. We dated for a year, and besides kissing, all we did was—” She stops as she sees me start to cringe.
“Right. Anyway, he waited. He waited for me to be comfortable with myself. When I finally told him I had breast cancer, he never flinched. He never wavered. And even as steadfast as he was, I still wasn’t convinced. I never thought I’d be good enough for him.”
Her last words bring me to a complete stop. Our stories and situations are entirely different, but now I know why she’s telling me this.
“Which brings me to this.” She taps the shoe box. It’s plain, with a simple logo and navy blue and white. But she runs her hand over it like it’s a precious chest of jewels. As if whatever is inside is worth more to her than all of the money in the world. “This is my Forever Box.”
“What does that mean?”
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she softly runs her fingers over the edges, a smile appearing, as if she’s at bliss. Finally, she looks back up at me. “I told your brother my fears. He hadn’t seen me, but I told him I was scarred. That I wasn’t like normal girls anymore because, in my head, I never felt normal after the surgery. He said it didn’t matter, but how could it not? I was one hundred percent sure that if he ever saw me without a shirt, the real me, he’d run for the hills. It wasn’t a possibility to me. It was a fact. And then he started leaving me these notes. I call them forever notes.”
She slowly opens the box. Inside I see dozens and dozens of pieces of paper. They’re all folded nicely, into tiny squares, only an inch wide and tall. Some are different colors, some look like they’re written on pieces of notebook paper. Her hand lightly runs over them, like she’s feeling the love radiating from them.
“I still remember the first one, it’s in here somewhere. It simply read ‘I’ll love you forever.’ That’s it. But as time went on, he’d leave me more and more. Different things we’d do forever, or different things that made him smile when he thought of me. No matter what it was, they always ended with him loving me forever.”
Gently, her hand digs into the box, and she pulls out a paper. Closing the lid, she unfolds the paper, and I want to tell her to stop. It feels so personal and private like it should be something just between them.
Before she reads it, she looks at me. “I wanted to show you this because I got the same feeling about you and Micah.” Looking back at the paper, a small giggle bubbles forth. “Oh, this one was sweet. When we’re out and you think I’m not watching you, but I am. I can watch you forever because I’ll love you forever.”
I let out a sniff, wiping my eyes. “Wow, I never knew Toto was so romantic.”
“Oh, he is, girl.” She laughs, which makes me do the same. “I don’t know how many of these notes it took and I don’t know how many he would’ve kept writing to make me believe. He still writes them for me from time to time. He’ll leave in the morning, and I’ll find one in the kitchen or on the nightstand.”
“Aw, I love him.”
“I do, too.” She gently folds the paper back into place, lifting the cover of the box, and putting it back inside. “It took a long time, Vero, but I did finally trust him. And more importantly, I did finally feel like I was good enough. Who knows how long it might’ve taken for me to feel as good about myself as I do now without him. I’d like to think I would’ve gotten there eventually. And that’s not to say I still don’t see my scars some days and feel bad about them. But knowing Tomás loves me no matter what, that just strengthens my love for myself. Sometimes relying on someone doesn’t make us weaker, it makes us stronger. Does that make sense?”
I nod slowly, looking back down at my hands. “It does. I wish I were as strong as you. I just don’t know how to do that. I’m not gonna ask him to write me love notes every day until I feel better about myself.”
“What if you wrote the notes?”
“What do you mean?”
Getting up from the bed, she puts her bra away and sets the shoebox on top of the dresser, before turning around and leaning against it. “When I was thinking about these notes, I thought about you two. I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to give me the first answer that comes to mind.”
“Okay …”
She smirks. “What were you thinking on the first date you two had? The very first time.”
I remember the karaoke bar and street fair. “I thought he was cute. And then I saw him with a girl and got all nervous, but that left when he saw me and said he’d been waiting for me. And he forgot the other girl’s name.” I smile at the last part.
“And does he know that? That you were nervous about the other girl?”
“I don’t think so.”
Sitting back down next to me, she takes hold of my hand. “I think you should tell him. Write to him about the past, and what you were feeling. Tell him how you feel right now. And then, think about your future. Do you need time? Do you want a future with him? Maybe, if he finally knows exactly what’s going on in that brain of yours, you guys might be able to work through this.”
“I don’t know, Yessi,” I reply, biting my lip, still staring down at my lap.
She gives my hand another squeeze. “I really loved seeing you two together. It reminded me so much of Tomás and myself. I know things are difficult. I know you’re insecure about things. But if you guys can work through those layers, if you two can get to the heart of one another, I’m sure it can work out. But digging into those layers is hard. Believe me, I know. We put up wall after wall, all because we want to protect ourselves. But once you’re through them, it’s almost like a new life. Your problems won’t be gone, but you can face them together. Because you dealt with them together. Just think about it. Please?”
I let out a sniffle, struggling to keep my eyes dry and give her a nod. I would love nothing more than to do that. To work through these layers of emotional baggage and hang-ups we both seem to have. I just don’t know if we can anymore.
Chapter 35
Micah
Hanging out at Chevy’s is the last thing I want to do, but the new semester starts in a couple days, and Taylor is trying to have as much fun as he can. Since he got the promotion at work, and with his study load, he knows he’s going to be busy. We’re tucked away in a corner, near one of the billiard tables, as I scroll through my phone.
“Get off your phone,” he says, right before he puts his hand over it.
“Knock it off.” I lean back in my chair. “I thought you were over there flirting with Molly, or Misty, or …”
“Mandy.”
“Yeah, Mandy. Go get your jollies off and leave me alone. It’s bad enough you wouldn’t let me stay home.”
He leans over the table, making me lift my eyes. “Micah, your fingertips are orange from a steady diet of Cheetos. You still haven’t called your dad since you guys talked, and—” He grabs my phone.
“Hey!”
“Yup, just like I thought. Stalking her Instagram page. She hasn’t posted anything in a we
ek.”
“Screw you,” I spit out, grabbing my phone back from him. “Go get your restroom hookup on and leave me alone.”
“I’ve never hooked up in a bathroom.” I glance up again, raising an eyebrow. “Okay, not this bathroom.”
“Whatever.” I put my phone away, looking around. “Are we done here? It’s been two hours, have I served my time?”
As I stand up from the table, my one and only drink that’s watered down since I never touched it, drips with sweat. Taylor looks back up at me, letting out a small scoff. Ever since I talked to my father, I’ve practically been a zombie. That’s been a week. Which means it’s been two weeks since Tomás decided to use my face as a punching bag.
“Fine, whatever.” Taylor gets up, and I head to the exit. “I’m gonna pay the bill and then see if Mandy’s down for anything. You good to get home?”
“All I had was a few pretzels. I’m fine.” I wave at him, walking out of the building.
Getting back to the apartment, I flop down on the couch, pulling out my phone once again. It’s been my go-to spot and activity for weeks now. Stalking her social media pages, pulling up pictures of us. Bringing up her phone number to maybe call her only to turn my phone off and internally scream at myself. I hate sleeping in my room. Our room. There aren’t any sheets on my bed because I pulled them off to wash a day after our argument in the morning. I don’t want to clean them and lose how they smell of her, but I don’t want to sleep on them either.
Hearing a giggle outside of our door, I grind my teeth.
Taylor’s been really considerate—especially considering it’s Taylor—to keep the noise down around the apartment, but I can’t do this right now. Maybe if he would’ve just left me alone to stew tonight, I’d throw on my headphones and ignore him, but I’m over everything Taylor related.
“Micah,” he calls out, walking in. When I turn around to give him a blatant hint that I’m not in the mood to put up with his shenanigans, I find not one but two girls with him. “Come on, we’re going back out.”
