“You’re quiet tonight,” Mark said, giving me a sidelong glance.
“Just tired.” I forced a smile.
“What’s that about?” he asked, and I knew he could read my sour mood. Sometimes he was so in tune with me it scared me. I thought I would never get this close to a man. I had intended to safeguard my heart.
“I don’t really want to go home for the holidays. Every year it’s like a fucking gong show between my mom and dad guilting me about who I should spend Christmas Eve and Christmas morning with. I hate the holiday in general. Matt is gone, and when it’s just me with my father and his girlfriend, it’s awkward, and the same goes with my mom and her boyfriend.” I frowned.
“You could do Christmas with us,” he offered. Looking out onto the road, I guessed he was driving toward the beach, which was surprising because he wasn’t a huge fan of the ocean.
“Really?” My brows dipped together. I was also surprised by the invite.
“Yeah, why not? We’ve been together a long time, Nat. You should meet my family.” We had been together for three years and not once had he invited me over to meet them. Maybe I should have pushed to meet them earlier, but I had my own reasons for putting it off. It felt safe not meeting them because meeting them meant things were serious, and I had no plans to settle down even though deep down I was more than curious to meet the parents of the man I had spent three years dating. I’d met his brothers and one sister at the sandwich bar on many occasions, but I had never been to his childhood home, and since Mark shared an apartment with Rafael, his older brother, there was never a real reason to go there.
“Um yeah, okay,” I answered, trying to hide the hesitation I felt building up in my chest. As curious as I was, anxiety built up inside me, knowing what this would mean. I wasn’t delusional. We had been dating for three years, but it was because I saw myself as a monogamous person. I wasn’t the type to jump from boyfriend to boyfriend, and Mark and I had good chemistry even after three years together.
“Don’t sound too excited.” He chortled.
We arrived at Santa Monica Beach and I turned to Mark, a deep crevice formed between my brows. “Why are we here? You hate the beach.”
“I know, but you love the beach. I want to talk, and I need you relaxed. The beach is your place so here we are. Come.” He got out of the car and went to his trunk where he pulled out a big thick blanket.
We walked hand in hand toward the shore. He laid the blanket down and used a part of it to cover us from the wind brushing off the ocean. It was already dark, so there wasn’t anyone in the water. People walked by on the boardwalk behind us. I inhaled deep long breaths as I usually did, taking in the salty scent in the air. My brother had given his life to the ocean, he had ridden the waves of the ocean as if he were a part of the large water force, the ocean was where I felt close to him, where my soul felt most at peace.
Mark took my hand in his.“I want to talk to you about the future,” he began and that ease I felt only a moment before seized my chest, and my breaths grew tight and labored.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Marks eyes creased at the sides. He had these dark soulful eyes I sometimes felt understood me more than I understood myself. “You’re going to be finished with college in the spring. You probably plan on going back to Florida. I don’t want to lose you. I want to have you in my life,” he said.
Where it was difficult for me to use words like I love you, Mark said them with ease.
“I love you, Nat, with all my heart. I see a future together with you.” He smiled warmly. I was thankful for the dark because I assumed it covered up the panic I must have felt. I didn’t want to show Mark my fears when he was showing me nothing but love.
“I-I- uh . . .” I stuttered.
Mark chuckled. “Not the response I was expecting. I knew you’d be scared, babe, that’s why I brought you here. I need you as relaxed as you can possibly be for this conversation.” I tried to figure out his angle. Instead of reveling in this handsome man’s love, I tried to get in his head and figure out what he wanted from me.
“Okay.” It was truly the only word I could muster.
“Nat, I know your parents weren’t much of an example to you growing up. I know you have your reservations about marriage and long-term relationships, but here’s the thing. I’m completely crazy about you. My parents have been married thirty-five years, and they still hold hands when they walk down the street. It’s completely adorable.” He smiled wide. “I want that with you. I’m not asking you to marry me tonight, because I know you. You need time to think on this, you need time to figure out exactly what I said. So here it is. I want to marry you, I want to have kids with you, and I want to grow old with you.” He paused as a mischievous smile danced in his eyes. “I’ve stunned you into silence.” He laughed.
“No,” I finally choked out. I took hold of his hand; it felt warm against my cold skin. “I l-love you, Mark. You’re right. I never saw myself getting married until I met you. I’d be lying if I said the thought hasn’t crossed my mind, but it also scares me senseless.” I took a deep breath and looked to him for an answer.
“I could be the guide in this relationship. I could show you that you can trust me, I only want you, always.” He sealed those words with a hot kiss, and for the first time in our relationship I allowed myself to envision a future with Mark. He understood me, he knew what I needed. I trusted him completely. As the night grew darker, Mark and I made out on the blanket. He hovered above me as my body melded into the sand. It was a perfect night, and it solidified in my mind that I indeed wanted a future with him. Beneath my fear and disappointment, I had been a hopeless romantic. Mark made me see that.
The next day I called my parents to say I would be spending the holiday in LA with Mark and his family. My mother asked me if there was a ring on the horizon, and I told her there might be. She didn’t sound too pleased, even though she’d never met Mark.
A few weeks later, I spent Christmas with Mark’s parents, his three brothers, and one sister since his sister Bella left for school in Boston and wasn’t coming home for the holidays. Mark’s parents were truly lovely and warm. We spent the night eating delicious food his mom had prepared, drinking wine, and singing all kinds of Christmas songs in Spanish. I felt a true sense of family for the first time in a long time.
When Mark proposed to me on New Year’s Eve, I didn’t question my answer, it was a definite yes. I trusted Mark with my heart and soul.
Thinking back to those times made me feel like a fool. Mark used to be like an open book, or so I thought. Now come to think of it, it seemed odd that I hadn’t met his parents before that Christmas. Three years of dating was a long time. He was convenient, comfortable, understanding, and supportive, but I had all the time in the world. I hadn’t thought of marriage, but what were Mark’s reasons for not bringing me around his family more? They were this loving and supportive family. He wanted to marry me, why keep me away? I wanted answers. After years of floating through life, my eyes were now wide open.
After work I picked up Lily and Liam and went over to Immy’s. Shay offered to help me locate Bella, Mark’s sister. I knew it was wrong to go behind my husband’s back, but he left me no choice. His secrets had come between us. I deserved to understand who the man I married truly was. Mark had once promised to be our guide in this relationship, but he had abandoned ship. I was going to ask his sister for the answers he was unwilling to provide.
It didn’t take long for Shay to find the information on Bella. I decided to call into work sick the next day so I would be home alone when I made the call. With Mark out of the house and the kids still in school, I dialed his sister’s number with shaky fingers. My heart beat rapidly as I remembered how angry Mark had gotten when I mentioned talking with Bella. I didn’t know where that lie came from other than my gut told me she had answers I was looking for.
The phone rang once. I prepared myself that she might not pick up or be a
vailable, but after the second ring I heard a woman’s voice. “Hello.”
“Bella, this is Natalia,” I said nervously. “Mark’s wife,” I added since I heard silence. It was strange that I had to clarify who I was, but I’d never met her.
“Natalia? Is Mark okay?” she asked, concern in her voice.
“Oh yes, I’m sorry. No, he’s totally fine.” I paused. I hadn’t thought of exactly what I wanted to say.
“Okay.” She sounded hesitant.
I fingered the necklace around my neck, a nervous gesture. “I know we haven’t met, and you don’t really know me, but Mark and I are having some trouble, and I was wondering if you could help me understand him better. He has completely shut down.” I was almost babbling.
“Natalia, I’m sorry. I’m probably the wrong person to talk to about your husband. I left home a long time ago. I haven’t seen Mark in well over fifteen years.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I just . . .” I exhaled. “Look, we have two kids and our marriage is on the rocks. I’m doing whatever I can to try to save this marriage, for our children to have a family, but also because I love Mark and I want to help him.” It wasn’t a lie; I loved Mark even if I felt desolate and lonely in a life he promised to guide me through.
Her soft exhale made her sound a little exasperated with me already. “What is it you thought I could help you with?”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “I was wondering about your parents, I guess. What was it like growing up for you guys?” Shit, could I have asked a bigger open-ended question than that one?
“Whoa.” She giggled nervously. “You get right to the point, don’t you?”
“Sorry.” I laughed. “I don’t mean to pressure you, I just need answers.”
“Well, I’m sure Mark told you Dad is an alcoholic,” she said, and my breath hitched, fully clogging my throat. I held my breath to prevent myself from coughing.
He did not.
“Yes, he mentioned it,” I lied.
“It was hard growing up with him. He liked to spend time with us, but he would drink a lot and while he did he became rougher. I’m not really sure how to describe it. Papa was playful, but when too much alcohol was involved, a small tap on the back felt like we had the wind knocked out of us. We could go out for ice cream and Papa would want to race us or something along the boardwalk, then he would grab us and give us a noogie, only it felt more like his arms tightened around our necks and cut off air, or maybe like he would snap our neck. If you know what I mean.” And no, I didn’t know what she meant, but it sounded terrifying.
“Yes,” I said, trying to hide my mortification at hearing this news.
“It got to a point when we didn’t want to play anymore because it hurt too much. The same happened with Mom, although she put up with him hitting her. We all witnessed it, but we weren’t supposed to talk about it. Mom made it very clear we were always supposed to act as if our family life was normal. Like Papa was a fun-loving, playful man.” Her voice trailed off and I prayed she would continue speaking. What she was telling me had my stomach in a twist. “Then Papa had a breakdown and went into a hospital for a while. We thought it was to cleanse his body of the alcohol, but we learned he had some sort of mental breakdown. Mama never really explained it to us, and we weren’t to ask questions.” I shifted on the couch shocked to hear any of this. I had been with Mark for so many years, and he always rubbed in my face what a perfect family he had and what a screwed-up family I had. Was he delusional, or was he carrying out his mother’s wishes to keep their life a secret?
“And what about Consuelo?” I asked, holding my breath. She was Mark’s sister who had drowned in the ocean. The day I met Mark, he had been on the beach to commemorate the anniversary of her death.
Her harsh intake of breath cut through the line, making my pulse race.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I know it must be hard to talk about her. I was just wondering. I know Mark said he doesn’t like the ocean . . .” My voice trailed off.
“I don’t know if I should talk about her,” she answered.
“I understand. I lost my brother when I was eighteen. He drowned during a surfing competition in Hawaii. I understand what it’s like to lose a sibling to a drowning,” I said, and I hated that I sounded like my parents at that moment. I was repeating their denial over my brother’s death. Matt had gone into the water that day, high on crystal meth. Certain groups of world-renowned surfers were known to party hard. Matt was also taking prescription pills to fight his depression. After a night of getting high on meth, he reached the competition on the north shore of Hawaii. The competition was cancelled due to a trifecta of waves, a perfect storm that didn’t occur often. One of the eyewitnesses told an investigator the day of the competition, “When you are near those waves, you know they will kill you.” The only reason I knew those details was because I had read a file on the investigation into Matt’s death. A file I didn’t think my parents had planned to share with me. In the file one of Matt’s surfing buddies stated to police that he told Matt not to go in the water, that it was too dangerous, the waves too high rolling in at nineteen-second intervals. People stood and watched some of the waves reaching 40 feet. Apparently Matt answered something along the lines that he didn’t plan on coming out. His friend was also high and only understood the meaning of Matt’s words when his lifeless body was pulled from the water after a wave sucked him under. My chest squeezed at the memory, making my breaths short and ragged. It took everything in me to pull my mind back to needing answers about my lying husband. If I had to lie about Matt’s death to get answers, so be it.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice broke the silence.
“I don’t think it’s something we can ever get over.” Wasn’t that the truth?
“Are you on a landline, Natalia?” she asked, confusing me. Why did she care about that?
“Yes,” I answered, unsure of what she was truly asking.
“What I am about to tell you, you shouldn’t repeat. I mean . . . the Lopezes never speak of it. We’ve all been trained to never mention it, and we go to great lengths to keep the secret.” Sweat prickled my forehead. What could she possibly say?
“You have my word. I don’t want to hurt your family. I just want to understand the father of my two children better.”
“Okay. You know how I told you Papa liked to play rough with us? Well, we used to go to the beach every Saturday when we were small. We were all close in age. The day Consuelo died, she went into the ocean with Papa and Mark. They went too far out. Consuelo was smaller, she hung on to Papa’s arms, and Mark swam out with them. Papa pried her off his arm and started a game of cannonball where he threw them up in the air, and they shot into the water. Consuelo wasn’t a good swimmer. She didn’t like the game. She was crying. Mark tried to convince Papa to leave her alone, but he wouldn’t. He kept throwing her.” My heart slowed down with each word she spoke. My poor husband.
“A strong tide came and sucked her under. Papa was too drunk to really swim, and by the time the lifeguards got their boat and searched for her, she was lifeless.” She finished her last words, and I swiped tears I didn’t know were falling.
“I’m so sorry. And Mark . . . poor Mark.” I was shaking. My heart ached for young Mark. He probably wanted to save his sister, and he had to deal with a monster of a father. I realized how much he hid from me. How much he was hiding.
“Mark was destroyed. He felt responsible. Today as an adult, I know it was my asshole father who was drunk. He isn’t mentally well, although I don’t know exactly what is wrong with him. My mother hasn’t seen him in over seven years,” she said, and I was shocked.
“What?” I didn’t understand what she said.
“Dad left Mom. One day just picked up and took off. Look, Natalia, I hope I helped you out. I have a normal life here in Boston with a husband and children of my own. I can’t drag myself back to problems of the Lopez clan. I worked hard for the life I have. I won’t let them
drag me down again.” Her words were unnerving. I could understand her not wanting a relationship with her parents, but why not her siblings? I knew our conversation was reaching an end, and I wouldn’t get much more out of her.
“I’m sorry to have made you dredge up all these bad memories. What you shared truly does give me perspective.” My mouth felt dry.
“Keep your children close to you, especially your son.” She said the words like a silent warning.
“Why is that?” I asked. Mark wasn’t much of a drinker. I didn’t think he was a threat to the kids. He just wasn’t much of a father.
“I really should go. I’ve said too much as it is. Please don’t call me again,” she said, and the phone call ended.
My stomach sank as her words penetrated my mind. Nausea overwhelmed me as I thought of what Mark’s childhood must have been like. Mark lied to me over and over again. Did he see it as lying? Was he still trying to protect his family’s image even as a grown man? I thought back to the one and only Christmas I had spent with his family. Had it all been an act? Mark’s father had been loud and rambunctious that night. His mother had played it off, smiling at me and rolling her eyes playfully at her husband’s antics. I hadn’t seen what had been right in front of me. Mark told me to expect a warm and loving family, and I thought that was what I saw. How wrong I had been?
Chapter Eighteen
Natalia
“Hey, Mom.” She picked up after the first ring and my heart sped up in my chest.
“Natalia, this is a surprise.” I deserved the comment. I called her maybe once a week to check in, and even then our conversations were limited to small talk and polite questions.
“Come on, Mom. We talk once a week,” I countered. I couldn’t admit she was right because I would never hear the end of it, even though she could easily pick up a phone too.
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