by RH Tucker
“Don’t say that, Dad. I’ll always love you.”
“I love you, too, son. And I’m sorry.”
Chapter 34
Veronica
“Vero, hand me my cup.” Miguel’s words are loud and clear, but I ignore them. “Vero?”
I stare at my cards, acting like I can’t hear him. Cindy sits next to me. I can feel her gaze on me, but I don’t care. I didn’t even want to play our traditional Go Fish game. She begged me, hoping to get me back into some kind of normalcy.
“You can’t ignore me forever, V,” Miguel says, and it’s all it takes for me to snap my eyes to his.
“Watch me.”
“It’s been weeks,” he laments. “I’ve apologized over a dozen times. What more do you want?”
Dropping my cards, I grab his cup. “What more do I want? Really? You screwed everything up!”
“I didn’t screw anything up!” he yells back.
Tomás gets to his feet. “Okay, guys, you need to calm down.”
“She’s the one who needs to calm down,” Miguel responds. “If you had just told Tim to beat it, I wouldn’t have had to call Micah in the first place. It’s your—” He stops himself.
My eyes squint, knowing what he’s going to say. “Say it.”
“Nothing,” he grumbles, lowly.
“Say it, Mike. Tell me it’s my fault. Say it!”
“It is!” he yells at me, and I hurl the cup at him.
He ducks out of the way, and it crashes into the wall behind him. I knew it was empty and it’s plastic, but even if it were glass and full, I probably still would have thrown it at him.
“Are you crazy?”
“V,” Cindy whispers, grabbing my arm, but I pull it away.
“No!” I yell at her before turning back to Miguel, Tomás now standing between us. “You don’t think I know that? You don’t think I wish I could take it back? I do. But even if everything with Tim happened and Micah wasn’t here, I would’ve told him. I wouldn’t go back to Tim, and I would’ve told Micah. But, no! You had to text him and act like some overbearing protector and put that on him, didn’t you? You’re such an ass!”
I’ve heard the whispers between the boys. They don’t know everything that’s gone down between Micah and me, but they know enough. Javier stares at everyone, still sitting down at the table, unsure what to do. Miguel, as usual, comes down from his overbearing brother persona and now looks like he wants to apologize. It’s been the standard split personalities he’s been displaying for the past two weeks. And Tomás is in the middle of it all. He watches me carefully, while still standing in front of Miguel.
Spinning around, I head straight to my room and collapse onto my bed. I don’t know how to fix this. Micah walked out the door, and I haven’t heard from him. I’ve debated sending him a text message. It starts with ‘I’m sorry,’ and I am, but then I delete it. While I am sorry, Micah jumping to conclusions and not believing me makes the anger inside rise, almost to the levels of my sorrow. Then I begin to ask if we can or should talk, but I delete that, too. What can I say? What can he say?
“Knock, knock,” Cindy says lightly, opening my door. “You okay?”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I sit up, pulling up my knees. “I wish people would stop asking me that.”
“Sorry. Did you want me to stay? I could go get us ice cream, and we could veg out for the rest of the night.”
I shake my head. “I think I just want to be alone for a while.”
“Oh, okay.”
I hear the door click shut and wish I could go to sleep, but I know if I try I’ll only toss and turn. Getting up, I cross my room and find a picture I printed out of Micah and me. We visited the street fair a few more times, and the picture is one he took of us sharing a milkshake. Probably something we’ll never do again.
After a small knock at the door, it cracks open. “Cindy, seriously, I don’t want to do anything.”
“She left.”
Looking over at the doorway, I see Miguel standing there, an anguished expression across his face. “Oh.”
“Vero, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter. I know it’s my fault and I’m sorry. I wish I never would’ve told Micah. And I didn’t do it because I thought something was going to happen between you and Tim, I just did it because I knew you wouldn’t listen to Tomás or me and I wanted that jerkoff out of our house. After what you told us he did, it took everything in my power that day to not punch him as soon as I opened the door. So I texted Micah, knowing if anyone could get rid of him, Micah could. I’m sorry for everything.”
Putting the picture back on my desk, I pull out my chair and lay my head down on the desktop. “It doesn’t matter, Mike. It’s over. Everything’s over.”
“Don’t say that.” He walks over to my chair, resting his hand on my shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you as happy as you are with Micah. And you’re a pretty freaking happy person.”
Even as tears fall, I let out a giggle. “Thanks.”
“Just give it time. Me and Javi will drag his ass here if we have to.”
“Don’t.” I squeeze his hand, trying my best to smile. “Please, don’t. This is bigger than just Tim being here.”
“Okay.” He nods and leans over, wrapping his arms around me. “I love you, sis.”
“Love you, too.”
For the rest of the night, I constantly check my phone, continuing to debate with myself about texting him. Ever since the Tim fiasco, I’ve decided it’s better not to post any quotes or heart-wrenching love-song lyrics. And then finally, I fall asleep, wishing everything was a bad dream.
One thing I have been doing is helping Tomás out with payroll for the company. He doesn’t seem to mind, even if he is just letting me help knowing I’m trying to keep my mind occupied. He’s out, going over an estimate, and I’m filling out paperwork when Yesenia comes into the house.
“How’s it going, Veronica?” she asks in her usual bubbly way, so I know she’s not asking for the same reason everyone else has been.
“It’s fine,” I acknowledge her, stapling some papers together. “Just finished a stack. You know, Toto never told me how many people work for Papá. It’s a lot.”
She laughs. “Yeah. When we started dating, he loved to act like a big shot. He’d tell me how he was in charge of this or that and seemed so proud. Now, I think he’d do anything to have one of your brothers join the business to help him out.”
I join in on the laughter, but it quickly dies out. I remember when they started dating, but only bits and pieces. Miguel always makes fun of how in love he says Tomás was. But thinking about them being in love is the last thing I want on my mind because it only reminds me of Micah. My gaze breaks away from hers.
“So, I know it’s none of my business, and we don’t really talk much about this stuff, but like I told you before if you need to talk, I’m here.”
I nod, getting up from the table and walking to the kitchen to open the fridge. “I know. Thanks, Yessi, but there’s nothing to talk about.”
“Are you sure? I might be able to help.”
Help? Right. Because she obviously knows something about being heartbroken, and trusting someone, when she’s been with Tomás for the last six years, and been married for four of them. The thought makes the anger boil over, and I can’t stop from snapping at her. “No offense, Yessi, but you really couldn’t.”
“Tomás told me what he said.”
I slam the refrigerator door, clenching my eyes shut to fight back the tears.
“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 t
he 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.”
