Space For Breathing

by I. K. Velasco

  I tried hard to eat, to enjoy the meal that Rosa made for us like I always did, but it all just tasted bland. I sat in silence, shifting my food around on my plate, wishing I could make my tongue cooperate so I could enjoy it like before.

  "Maeva," Mr. Owen said. The tone in his voice was firm, almost like when he was going to scold me about something.

  I turned my attention on him, sitting up. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and stared at me, hazel eyes warming. "You miss Jacob."

  My eyes widened in surprise. Was I that transparent?

  "I…." I couldn't will my mouth to form a sentence.

  "Do you love him?"

  I stared at him, willing my voice to come back, but it wouldn't. I think I managed to nod. I could feel the invisible fog of tension dissipate when his face broke into a smile. But his eyes were sad. A lump formed in my throat, the surprising sting of tears behind my eyes.

  "Why aren't you with him?"

  I couldn't answer.

  "I've been lucky enough to know you, my Orchid. You are a good daughter, better than any daughter that could have ever come from me. You soul shines brighter than anyone one I have ever known. You've even managed to shine some into this old man's mundane existence." His grin grew wider. "You need to share that."

  "But what am I supposed to do?" I asked him. I felt so sure that he had the answer, just as he had for everything else in my life before this.

  "Whatever, you need to, Maeva." Simple, huh? Just do what I need to do. I didn't even know what that was.

  "I'm scared."

  He smiled reassuringly, reaching over the pat my hand. "I know, but that's what love is supposed to be. Love makes you so scared that you don't know what to do with yourself. You feel so many emotions – fevered, light-headed, dizzy, like your wonderfully sick. You're not sure of anything. The only thing that you are sure of is that other person causing all this sickness, that if you don't do something to be with them, that sick, scared feeling won't ever go away."

  "How do you know all this?"

  He laughed. "Probably the only benefit of being old, my darling. You probably couldn't imagine it, but I was in love once."

  I looked at him carefully. For the first time, I saw Mr. Owen differently. He wasn't just the enigmatic, but flighty father figure that I had known for 15 years. He was also an ordinary man, a man who had lived and experienced more things than he could tell about in the few months we spent together every year.

  "And if you can learn one thing from me, it's that love is that one gut feeling that you should never ever give up on."

  He reached across the table again and squeezed my hand. I stood up and sat down on the floor in front of him, laying my head in his lap, something I used to do when I was a little girl. He laughed a little stroking my hair and then urged me to stand up, enveloping me in a warm embrace. He hugged me close. "You were never mine to keep, little Orchid. Go and be with the one who has conquered your exotic heart."

  * * *

  It's a disconcerting feeling to have your whole life sprawled out in front of you, and you must decide how much of it you should be trying to fit into two suitcases. Dresses, pants, shirts, shoes, books, paints, pictures, jewelry, mementoes. It was difficult to decide what to bring when I wasn't sure how long I'd be gone or if I'd ever come back.

  I reveled in the battling feelings of anticipation and dread churning in my gut. Mixed in was a reassuring sense of hope that all of this would be worth it. I just had to keep reminding myself of what could be waiting for me on the other side.

  Rosa poked her head into my bedroom. "Need help?" she asked, smiling warmly like always.

  "Um…not really. I'm almost done."

  Rosa entered the room and looked around, shaking her head. She began to pick up clothes off the floor and on the chairs in the room, folding them into neat little piles. I chuckled to myself. She never did listen to me.

  "Are you flying directly into Los Angeles?" Rosa asked, placing one pile of clothes neatly into the corner of my suitcase.

  "Yes, it's a direct flight."

  "And how will you find him?"

  "There will be a car for me at the airport. Thank goodness Mr. Owen knew their manager. I wouldn't have known the first place to look for him."

  "Are you sure you're okay doing this by yourself?" Rosa asked, concern evident in the way her brows furrowed together.

  "Yes, I think so," I said, trying to sound confident. "Mr. Owen booked the flight for me and arranged for all my transportation and accommodations. I don't think I'll have a problem. Besides…" I coughed, trying to still the shaky nervousness in my voice. "I need to do this by myself."

  "Does he know you're coming?"

  "No, he doesn't," I said hesitantly. Rosa's eyes widened, asking for an explanation. "I…it took enough courage to decide to even do this. I couldn't…" I took a deep breath. "I couldn't bear to just speak to him on the phone. I have to see him. If he's going to reject me or love me…one way or the other, I have to see his face."

  Rosa stopped folding and turned her face to me, the ebony pools of her eyes filling with tears. As usual, I fought mine back.

  "My Maeva," she whispered. Rosa placed her hand on one of my shoulders squeezing lightly. "I'm so proud of you, you know?"

  I swallowed thickly. "I love you, Rosa," I choked out. "Thank you."

  She enveloped me in a warm embrace. I pressed my cheek to her shoulder, wrapping my arms around the plump, comforting warmth of her body. I allowed a few tears to flow, wetting her blouse a little. For Rosa, I could do that.

  She pulled away and kissed my forehead. "I'll miss you."

  "Me too, Rosa."

  Twenty-two

  Los Angeles, CA

  Maeva sat in the back of the limousine, carefully observing the scenery passing by. If the fourteen-hour flight from Manila had been disconcerting enough, comparatively the drive from the Los Angeles International Airport was significantly different than anything she had ever experienced before.

  Traffic was sparse on that cool fall day. There were hardly any motorists on the roads from the airport to the east side of the city. It was Sunday afternoon, and most of the city folk were relaxing in their homes or trapped in a shopping mall spending their hard-earned American cash. The wide-open, well-maintained highways and streets, free of grinding bumper-to-bumper traffic was something one rarely, if ever, experienced in the Philippines. Another small thing, adding to the many big things that contributed to the unease of what she was there to do.

  Maeva leaned back in her seat and watched the spidered shadows of palm trees whizzing by the tinted windows. She gathered the material of her thin cardigan sweater closer to her neck, shivering a little. It was an unusually chilly November in usually sunny Los Angeles.

  "Would you like me to turn up the heat, ma'am?" the driver asked, noticing her discomfort. "This is the coldest I’ve ever felt it here in tinsel town. I'm sure this weather is a far cry from the tropics of the Philippines, eh?" He glanced up at her through his rearview and saw the small smile she offered him.

  "No, it's alright," she replied. "I want to get used to it."

  A few minutes later, the car pulled into an ordinary suburban neighborhood. Small, upright townhouses with white porches and manicured lawns and short winding driveways lined the street. The houses were tiny, one family homes, none could rival the expanse of the Estate.

  The car stopped in front of a modest townhouse with a brick façade and a red tiled roof. The driver got out and walked around the car, opening the door for Maeva. She hesitated for a long time, staying rooted in her seat, feet dangling outside the car door.

  "Do you want me to go to the door for you, ma'am?" the driver offered.

  "No, no," she said immediately, taking a stilling breath. "I'll be fine." She allowed him to help her out of the car, and she headed for the front door of the cozy suburban house on shaky legs.

  She rang the bell and heard a small dog barking inside. The knob began to t
urn and a young man appeared at the foyer.

  Maeva stood dumbfounded for a moment, silent and unmoving. She knew her staring gaze was not a demonstration of the poise and politeness she wanted to portray, but she couldn't tear her eyes away. It wasn't just because the young man was beautiful. He had delicate features, almost too pretty to belong to a man, sandy golden hair and piercing blue eyes. Behind all that was the resemblance to Jacob. Riley.

  He cocked his head to the side, scrutinizing her when she didn’t speak. But his face was soft and open, more inquisitive, rather than anything hostile. His eyes lit up. "I know you…" he murmured, almost to himself. "You're Maeva."

  She smiled at him.

  "Wow," he murmured, almost to himself. "Jake's description did not do you justice."

  Maeva looked down at her feet, blushing.

  "Oh!" Riley said, finally coming back to his senses. "I'm being so rude. Please come in."

  Maeva reluctantly stepped through the entrance, standing off to the side as he closed the door. Riley noted the limo parked in the driveway.

  They both looked up when Diana Slone descended the stairs. "Riley? Who's at the door?" Her eyes focused on Maeva, and her face lit up immediately. "Oh, my dear! It's so nice to finally meet you!" she cried, excitedly, enveloping the young girl in a warm hug.

  Maeva was surprised, looking uncertainly at Riley over the older woman's shoulder. He smiled reassuringly, and Maeva returned the embrace.

  Jacob's mother pulled away from Maeva a little, still holding onto her shoulders. She examined her face, looking at her with the same inquisitive gaze as Riley's. Maeva smiled as warmly as she could. "You are beautiful, my darling. Now I know why Jacob has not stopped talking about you."

  "Do you want to have a seat?" Riley said, gesturing to the front sitting room.

  Maeva looked back and forth from Riley to his mother. "Um, no, thank you," Maeva said, quietly. "I'm sorry, but can you tell me where Jacob is?"

  "Oh! Yes, of course you are," Riley said, running a hand through his hair. "He's not here. He doesn't live here, anymore."

  "Oh," Maeva replied, disappointed.

  "Not to worry, my dear," Diana said. She rubbed her back, in a motherly gesture of comfort. "We'll find him for you."

  "Um, but I can show you where he lives, if you like," Riley said. "It's only a few minutes’ drive away. I can take you there."

  "I don't want to trouble you…"

  "No, no, I insist. You came all this way to see him. It's the least I can do to show you where it is."

  Riley grabbed his coat from the front closet and opened the door for Maeva. She turned to Mrs. Slone before heading out. "Thank you," she said. "It was very nice to meet you."

  "You too, honey. I'm sure I'll see you again soon." She smiled warmly.

  Riley and Maeva silently walked down the driveway to the waiting car. The driver opened the door for them, allowing Maeva to enter first.

  Riley gave the driver directions to Jacob's new place of residence, then sat back watching the familiar route go by from his window. They didn't talk for most of the short trip, but Riley started speaking, just to fill the awkward silence.

  "How was the flight here?" he asked, looking at her in that curious, pointed way.

  "Very long," she replied, laughing nervously. He smiled at her. The way the corner of his eyes crinkled, it reminded her of Jacob. "That was probably the longest plane trip I've ever taken."

  "Have you ever been to the US before?"

  "No, this is the first time."

  "Well, I'm sure that Jacob will show you around Los Angeles. It can be snobbish and artificial at times, but it’s home," he said, his voice laced with sardonic sentiment.

  Maeva laughed.

  The limo stopped then, in front of another townhouse, modest and unassuming.

  Riley led the way up the cobbled path. Maeva's heart began to pound. She tried to breathe deeply, swallowing a lump in her throat.

  Riley rang the bell and when no one answered, he peeked into the window. "Looks like he's not in."

  Maeva's shoulders slumped visibly. Riley couldn't even imagine what she was feeling, but he knew what it was like to wait for something you wanted so badly, and it was just within arms' reach.

  "We can go back to the house and leave a message for him," he offered. "Or I can wait with you, if you like,"

  "Actually, it's alright. You don't have to do that," Maeva insisted. "I can get the driver to take you back home. He'll come back for me."

  Under other circumstances, Riley would've insisted, but he knew this was different. He nodded, holding out his hand to her. "It was nice to meet you, Maeva."

  She looked at it for a second, like she was trying to decide whether he deserved a handshake. Riley swallowed nervously. Then his eyes widened when she reached up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She had to stand on her very tiptoes to hug his tall frame. "Thank you for taking me here, Riley."

  "You're very welcome," he said, hugging her back.

  They pulled apart, looking at each other awkwardly.

  "Well, I guess I'll go back. You know where I'll be if you need anything," he said.

  "Okay. Thank you so much."

  He backed away from her and headed for the limo.

  Maeva watched the vehicle pull away from the curb. Taking a deep breath to still herself, she sat on the porch steps and patiently waited. She didn't have to wait long.

  Jacob's car had passed the limo on its way out of his neighborhood. His brain noted its presence, but he didn't pay it much mind. He was more concerned about the young woman he spotted sitting on his porch. Jacob's hands started to shake when he realized who it was. He didn't even bother pulling into the driveway. He just pulled over and parked, too shaken up from seeing her there.

  He opened the door, instinctively grabbing the jug of milk he'd gone out to pick up.

  He had to blink to few times to convince himself she was real. And even then, his mind wouldn’t allow him to believe it.

  She was sitting on the porch, staring at him with eyes glossy as midnight. She stood up, smoothing the wrinkles of her skirt. She approached slowly, biting her lower lip.

  Jacob swallowed thickly. "Hi."

  "Hi," she choked out, the corners of her lips quivering. She laughed a little, pushing an errant lock of hair behind her ear.

  He had imagined this moment countless times since he left her. But nothing could prepare Jacob for her smile, her giggle and the way those little gestures disarmed every phrase that he had rehearsed and imagined he would say.

  "Jacob. I just traveled 10,000 miles to see you. Aren't you going to at least hug me?" she asked.

  He laughed, holding his arms out to her. She pointed to his jug of milk, and he laughed some more, putting it down on the cool grass at their feet. He folded her up in a tender embrace. She pressed her cheek to his chest. "I tried to forget about you," he choked out, his voice breaking.

  She leaned back to look up at him, indulging herself in his loving gaze. "I know. Me too," she replied.

  One of her lashes released a fat tear, falling onto her quivering bottom lip. She swiped at it angrily.

  A soft light seemed to creep over Jacob's face; starting at the corners of his eyes and shining in the bright smile he flashed her.

  "Always afraid to show a little weakness, aren't we?" he said, his voice lilting teasingly.

  She drew her shoulders up in defiance, causing another chuckle to rumble from Jacob's throat. Maeva silenced him immediately, pressing her lips to his. Jacob devoured her kiss, never wanting it to end. They pulled away from each other, breathless.

  Jacob pressed his forehead to hers, staring intently into her rippling midnight eyes. "Now that you're here, you're never leaving my side again. You do realize that."

  She smiled, nodding. "Alright."

  "And you're going to marry me," Jacob said, earnestly.

  At first, Maeva's eyes widened, both terrified and thrilled at the possibility. Bu
t the look on Jacob's face told her it was more than that. "Wh…what? Marry you? You can't be serious. I just arrived two seconds ago."

  "Maeva, just say yes. It doesn't have to be tomorrow or next week or next year, even. I just want to hear you say yes."

  The corners of her pretty mouth curled up into a radiant smile. "Yes," she whispered.