But they weren’t lovers, either.
He never understood until now that being someone’s lover requires longing, a painful wait that turns small moments into several eternities. Since they’d never felt the threat of losing each other, they’d never known the pleasure of needing each other. He sees now what brought him here during those early-morning drives. He finally recognizes what his concern for Elena was disguising. Not nostalgia, or guilt, or even consolation that Marabela would be all right so long as Elena was. What brought him here, stumbling, weak, and dizzy from the loss of everything he’d built his life around, was the need for orientation. Every day they’ve spent apart, every year he shared with Marabela, and every moment he received with his children was a gift with a hidden purpose. He needed to lose Elena to long for her.
He kisses her now, again and again, until she finally stirs. Even with her eyes still closed Elena smiles, recognizing his touch, and because he doesn’t want to ask anything else of her but to listen, Andres begins to speak. “You’ve always been too good to me. The first time I came to see you, I was so afraid you’d be angry that I hadn’t come sooner, and you welcomed me as if I’d never left.”
Elena opens her eyes and smiles. The sadness he’s come to recognize has started to fade. “I’d been angry for so long, but when I saw you it didn’t matter. I didn’t understand it at the time, but all I felt was calm. Like this was how it had to be.”
“Because I had to be ready?”
“Because we both did,” she says.
“I think I’ve always needed you.”
She shrugs, her movements lazy and quiet. “Maybe we didn’t know it at the time.”
He remembers a game they used to play as children. “Remember gallinita ciega?” Elena would blindfold him, and spin and spin him until he got so dizzy it was as if the world were falling away from his feet. In this state Andres was tasked with tagging her.
“You always wanted me to spin you more,” she says.
“I liked the chaos more than the search.” Now, he is so tired of spinning. “I got so dizzy I could never find you. And that was the whole point of the game.”
“The point was to have fun. We just had different ideas of how to do that.”
Elena turns to him and Andres marvels at how she can bring him so much calm even when she’s the one who’s hurt.
“And now?” he says.
“I saw Marabela. She apologized.”
“She’s moving on, Elena. I think she’s doing it for us just as much as for herself. You’ve helped in ways you’ll never know, and she’s getting stronger every day. But she wants to do it on her own. Without me. She thinks our lives have been going in different directions for some time now. After everything that’s happened, I can’t help but agree.”
Elena takes this all in and chuckles.
“What?”
“Look at us, all shuffled together like a deck of cards, trying to pick up where we left off. It’s crazy.”
“We’re all a little crazy,” Andres says, bringing his hand to her face. When he does, she takes it and kisses his fingers, just like he did minutes ago. He smiles because he remembers what it was like to not be ready for this, to fear it. The feeling rushes back to him because it is the flip side of the same coin. Now that they’re together again, he’s not sure they’re ready to love each other, but the longing is there, waiting for them both to uncover it.
He helps her up and kisses her on the neck, on the only small piece of skin that isn’t hidden beneath her hair. She closes her eyes and tilts her head to the side, exposing herself just a little more, trusting him with the most vulnerable part of her, her pulse beating beneath his lips.
Acknowledgments
I’m never shorter on words, never more humbled, than when I think of those who helped make this book possible. If you’re reading this, thank you—know that my gratitude runs deeper than pen on paper and that I’ll carry it with me always.
Endless thanks to my agent, Brandi Bowles, for her tireless belief in my work. I don’t know how you do all you do, but I can always trust that you will. To my editors at Amazon, Katie Salisbury, for being a source of calm reassurance along this incredible journey, and to Liz Egan, for having faith in this story and making it become a book. Your enthusiasm and support are the stuff all writers dream of. My deepest gratitude to all who contributed their talents and hard work to this book: Jenny Carrow, Nancy Tan, and Phyllis DeBlanche.
Over the years I’ve been lucky to have found not one but three writing groups that prove our craft is far from a lonely endeavor. Thank you to Roxanna Elden, Gariot P. Louima, Nicole Tallman, and Jackie Taylor for reading draft after draft of my work, for the honor of reading yours, and for your continued support even after I moved. To Terence Cantarella, A. J. Hug, and Nadine Seide Gonzalez: I often think of our regular meetings at MDC and it warms my heart. And finally, to Demery Bader-Saye, Everlee Cotnam, Kate Cotnam, and Barbara Sparrow, who’ve read and helped shape this and other books before it. Your feedback has always been invaluable, but what I treasure most is the friendship we discovered along the way.
A special thank-you to the Florida Center for the Literary Arts and the Writers’ League of Texas for their incredible resources and guidance. Much gratitude also to Richard P. Wright for your time and expertise.
I’d like to thank all the teachers and mentors who’ve made a difference in my life. Amy Scott, you may not remember (though I’ll never forget) that you once told a shy ninth grader to never, ever stop writing. To Susan O’Connor, for always reminding me that there’s a story behind every story. To M. Evelina Galang, who helped nurture the first seeds of this story when I was a senior at the University of Miami, and who once told me, “If you’re gonna go there, go there.” To Jacqueline Sousa, who gave me my first yes in a sea of nos when I started submitting my work to magazines.
Thank you to countless Twitter friends and bloggers whose encouragement and support inspire me daily (you know who you are). We’ve shared e-mails, phone calls, letters, inside jokes, family pictures, meals, hardships, and triumphs. If that’s not true friendship, I don’t know what is.
I have a big, beautiful family that’s filled my life with more love, strength, and happiness than I could ever describe. To my cousins, aunts, uncles, nonnos, abuelitos, tíos, and tías: I could write a book about the adventures and life lessons you’ve taught me, and I suspect in many ways, I always will be writing it. Thank you (those words fall so short) to my parents. Ceci, when I struggle to find strength—in myself, my writing, my characters—I look to you. There are pieces of you in all I do. Ramon, ever since I was little you’ve always had a book in your hand and words to make me smile. Thank you for inspiring my love of reading, for sharing part of our family’s story with me, and, most important, for trusting me with it. To Abuelito, for your bravery, and Abuelita, for your quiet strength through it all. Mi tío Juan Carlos, who walked me through the Yuyanapaq: Para Recordar exhibit in Lima in 2003. The images and your retelling of those years will forever stay with me.
To my older sister, Ursula: I love you not just because we come from the same place, but because you’re always at my side no matter where I go. Thank you for always making me feel loved, protected, and like there was nothing I couldn’t do. To my precious nieces, Sofia and Olivia: your life has helped me grow. To my primas hermanas: Franca, because every conversation we have changes me in some way, and Flavia, for helping me see things in myself I didn’t know were there.
My deepest gratitude to Nadine Ferranti, for saying hi to the new girl and being proof that neither time nor distance matters in the face of true friendship. Daniel Chor, for being the kind of friend who pushes you to be a better person but stays by your side even when you’re not. Maggie and Pita (yes, you!), for the simple joy you bring to each and every day.
Thank you to my in-laws, Odalis Sylvester, Rey Sylvester, and Kathleen Sylvester, for treating me like family since day one and for your unwavering sup
port as Eric and I dreamed the dreams of our lives.
And finally, always, Eric. Moments with you take my words away and bring them back with new meaning. Thank you for every kiss good night and every kiss good morning. It all starts and ends with you.
About the Author
Photo by Eric Sylvester
Born in Lima, Peru, Natalia Sylvester came to the U.S. at age four and grew up in South Florida, where she received a B.A. in creative writing from the University of Miami. A former magazine editor, she now works as a freelance journalist and copywriter. Her work has appeared in Latina, Writer’s Digest, and The Writer and on NBCLatino.com. She lives in Texas with her husband and their two rescue dogs.
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