by Mia Sosa
I drum up the courage to inject a tenor of authority into my voice. “Kurt, look at me.”
He raises his gaze to the ceiling and slowly brings it down to meet my stare. “What’s up?”
“Ready to clear the air? Because unless I’m mistaken, you’ve got a business to run, and not speaking to your right-hand man isn’t conducive to doing that.”
He places his elbows on the desk and clasps his hands together. “I’m listening.”
I look him dead in the eyes and say what I should have said immediately after he discovered what I’d done. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Eva’s swimming experience. I should have, and for a number of reasons, I regret not saying anything about it. I can admit my feelings for her clouded my judgment, but my analysis was sound. She hasn’t finished training. Underwater stunts aren’t ideal for first-timers. Production was running on borrowed time because they wanted to minimize the equipment rental costs. And Simms is an asshole who cuts corners. We had all the makings for a disaster cocktail. I didn’t want her to be a part of it. And I didn’t think the job was worth it—to her or to us—no matter how much you like Simms.”
“Why didn’t you share all this with me, then?” he asks, tilting his head to study me closer.
“I’m human, Kurt. I make mistakes. I made one here. A big one. And I’m sorry.”
The air is thick with tension as I wait for him to respond.
A few beats later, he leans forward, resting his upper body weight on his elbows. “Can you see now that a policy barring relationships with trainees makes sense? Do you see how things went wrong?”
Here’s when I should clarify mine and Eva’s relationship, but I hesitate to do that because I’m not sure how to. “I don’t want to say too much, but Eva and were together before training started. And this won’t be a recurring issue. She’s been different from the beginning. I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. The point is, I did something you’re understandably upset about, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about the business, or you. I’m going to fuck up. It’s part of life. What matters is how I respond to it. So tell me how to fix this.”
Kurt smiles. “You just did it.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, scrunching my face in confusion.
“You want to be a co-owner, act like a co-owner. Show me that you’re thinking about the business. Exercise good judgment. And when shit doesn’t turn out right, accept your responsibility in the situation and figure out how to move on. That’s all I’ve ever expected of you, and that’s just what you did. It’s a start, at least.”
It’s not enough, though. Because Kurt isn’t the only person I hurt in this situation. And more than anything, I don’t want Eva to suffer because of me. “Kurt, there’s one other thing I need to do, and I need your help to do it.”
He raises a brow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’m guessing my presence would cast a cloud on the remainder of Eva’s experience during the training program. Would you be willing to take over?”
Kurt strokes his chin as he considers me. “I couldn’t pay you for those classes.”
I nod. “I know.”
“It means that much to you?” he asks.
“It does.”
We may not be together, but yes, Eva absolutely means that much to me.
Chapter Thirty-Three
So if I’m understanding this poem correctly, it doesn’t really matter which road I take? Well, shit, Robert Frost was an asshole.
Eva
On Sunday, Tori invites me to lunch before my training session at EST, and because she’s working today, she asks me to meet her at the café around the corner from Every Body.
We choose to sit on the covered patio of the Mediterranean restaurant that’s popular with the studio’s staff and clients, both of us donning our sunglasses, not because it’s sunny but because we want to people-watch. The gray weather matches my mood, and the neutral expression on Tori’s typically vivacious face isn’t helping to improve it.
After we order, she squeezes a dollop of sanitizer on her palm, and when I hold out my own hands, she squirts sanitizer on them, too. We rub in silence, until I realize this is how Tori acts when she’s noodling through an issue.
“Out with it, Tori.”
She flinches, as though I’ve pulled her out of her thoughts. But if the wistful smile on her face is any guide, they’re good thoughts.
“Sorry,” she says. “I’m not being a very good lunch date, am I?”
“What’s going on?”
“Several members came to see me this morning. To discuss you.”
Shit. People are already complaining about me? Those backstabbing bastards.
“They were raving about your self-defense class takeover,” she continues. “Said they wanted to take that class on a regular basis and asked why it wasn’t available. Apparently most of the class agreed.”
Those amazingly intuitive geniuses. I can’t help knocking my knees together in excitement. If I’m not too careful, I might float away. Is Tori for real? “Seriously?”
She nods. “Seriously. I haven’t thought all of this through, but I was thinking we could try a full schedule of cardio self-defense classes. Call it Kickass Power Hour or something.”
I wrinkle my nose at her. “Let me work on the name.”
She shakes her head. “Fine. Point is, you’ve come up with something that you’re uniquely qualified to teach, so I can justify giving you more hours if you want them. I’m thinking evenings, three times a week. And if the class works, we can add another one at a different time of day in winter. What do you say?”
I lean over and grab her hands, flailing for us both. “I think I couldn’t be more excited than I am right now.”
She gives me a wide smile. “I figured you’d say something like that.”
My enthusiasm wanes when I think about Anthony, however. “Would I be replacing the current self-defense class?”
She shakes her head. “No, not at all. That class is a community service, for members and nonmembers alike. Your class would be a member benefit only. Plus, I was using Anthony’s class to gauge interest in self-defense classes generally. It just turns out the interest veered in a different direction and now I have someone on staff who can meet the need. It’s perfect.”
My experience at Every Body has been nothing but positive, and I’m beyond excited to spearhead a new set of classes at the studio. I’m bringing value to the business and loving the challenge of this new venture. “Tori, this is the best news. When would you like me to start?”
She pulls out her phone and opens her calendar. “How much time do you think you’ll need to come up with the routines?”
“I’d probably want three in the bag before we get started, so I’d say a few weeks at a minimum.”
She swipes the calendar ahead one month. “Okay, and when does stunt training end?”
Our server arrives at our table, delivering a basket of pita triangles and a wide, shallow bowl of hummus with olive oil and spices drizzled on top. “This looks amazing,” I exclaim as I dig in.
“Eva, look at me.”
Reluctantly, I place the pita on my bread plate—it really does look amazing—and meet her gaze.
She frowns at me, her features scrunched in confusion. “Are you thinking about not finishing the training?”
“The thought had occurred to me.”
She shakes her head, blinking owlishly and pretending to be shocked by my reluctance to resume training. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You’re doing your post-breakup ritual wrong. Debrief, discuss, disengage, remember? This is the disengage stage. You should be turning off your emotions and moving on.”
I drop my head, exhausted at the mere thought of showing up for another class and seeing Anthony again. “I know. Believe me, this isn’t easy for me. But how can I show up there? He’s one of my instructors.”
“He is now a part of your past. Or he would have been any other time. Is there
something about this breakup that’s different?”
This time, I shove a pita triangle in my mouth, chewing as I speak. “No.”
She places her elbows on the table, rests her chin on her hands, and stares at me.
I’m not sure she can hear me when I finally, quietly, say yes, but her tender expression tells me she did.
“So what’s different this go-round?” she asks.
Everything’s different. I can’t recall another time when a breakup affected me like this one has. Anthony and I had so much promise. It’s as if I had a few weeks of being with the perfect person for me, and then he was snatched away for no good reason. “He’s different. I’m different with him. This go-round, I can’t shake the sense that I was so close to finding my forever person.” Until he fucked it up. “Tori, I think I’m in love with him. But he won’t let me in. So, of course, I want to smack him upside the head and tell him to grow up.” I wipe my eyes. Fucking inconvenient tears. “And there’s this teeny, tiny part of me telling me I can’t handle being in the same training room with him. Not when I’m still raw.”
Tori’s wearing this awww face that makes me want to puke. “Sweetie, you’re entitled to feel everything you’re feeling. But I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, as to whether you should finish your training, that teeny tiny part of you needs to shut the fuck up.”
She says this with an evil grin that scares even me. But not really. Because this is Tori. And she knows exactly what to say to clear my brain of my negative thoughts. “No, you’re right. I’m going. Giving up is not an option.” I raise my glass of water in the air. “Besides, how else would I prove to my father that he’s wrong about my future while simultaneously pissing him off.”
Tori lifts her glass and taps mine. “To pettiness.”
Indeed.
My father calls when I’m on the bus traveling to EST. This time, I answer.
“So how’s my Eva Knievel?” my father asks.
I’m glad we’re not face-to-face; this way, he can’t see my reaction to the silly nickname he’s made up for me.
“I’m doing great, actually,” I say in a singsong voice.
“Oh? Why’s . . . that?”
“I received some wonderful news about my work. I substituted for a class at Every Body and it was so popular, Tori wants me to teach a new class. More classes means more money.”
“More fitness classes. How exciting.”
His sarcasm stings. With just a few words, he snatches away the joy I felt when Tori told me people were clamoring to take my class. It’s one thing for him to ridicule my stunt training, but his disdain for the one thing I’m truly passionate about rankles.
It takes me a few moments for my thoughts to sink in. But when they do, I’m seeing the past several weeks in stunning clarity. The one thing I’m truly passionate about is fitness. It’s always been enough for me. But it’s never been enough for my father. And as much as I’d like to think I can dodge a manipulator with my well-trained eye, I still chose to undertake stunt training to prove that I could be more, and even then it wasn’t enough for him—because it’ll never be enough for him.
Anthony suggested as much when I told him why I wanted to train, but I didn’t want to admit that I could be manipulated that easily. Joke’s on me. But no more.
What I do is enough to pay the bills. What I do is enough to keep me engaged. What I do is enough to fulfill me in all the ways that matter. And if my father can’t respect that, he’s the problem, not me. “Dad, I love you, but—”
He chuckles. “Well, that sounds ominous.”
“Let me finish. Dad, I love you, but I’m not coming back to Philly, no matter how much you want me to. I’m choosing to settle somewhere that’s going to help me be the best version of myself, and for now, it’s here. I’m doing what I enjoy, and I’ll find a way to make it work financially. If that doesn’t meet your approval, then so be it. I’m almost thirty years old, and it’s time I worry more about meeting my own approval.”
He sighs. “Sweetie, it’s not that I don’t approve of your choices, I just want more for you. And I think you could have it. In Philly.” He clears his throat. “I never imagined you . . .”
“What? Never imagined what?”
“I never imagined you wouldn’t be here,” he says. “With me. Or near me.”
“I’ll call more, I promise.”
“But what about our dinners?” he asks sullenly. “And who’s going to drag me out to the movies?”
Oh God. Why didn’t I see this before? My move to California affected him just as much as it affected me. And now he’s lonely. He wants me back there because he doesn’t know what to do with himself. “Dad, I’ll come back for the holidays and to visit other times, too. And you can spend some time here with me. For a couple of weeks over the summer, maybe?”
“Sounds nice,” he says.
“And let me ask you this. When’s the last time you went on a date?”
He answers in a huff. “What kind of question is that? What does that have to do with anything?”
“I just think you need to focus your attention on someone other than your daughter.”
“Well, now you’re being ridiculous,” he says in an affronted tone. “I’m your father. Of course I care about your welfare.”
“Dad, I’m fine. It’s time to let go and do your own thing. I mean, isn’t there someone you could take out for coffee or dinner?”
My father’s voice crackles on the other end of the line. “Hello? Eva? Are you there? I think I’m losing you. Hello?”
When I hear the dial tone, I almost slide to the ground realizing he’s taken a page from my playbook and is pretending that we lost our phone connection.
Well played, Dad. Well played.
Thanks to the Metro bus, I’m a few minutes late to class. Today, we’re learning about harness and wire work. I’m excited to fly around and pretend I’m Storm from the X-Men.
I slip inside and join everyone in the circle. Kurt, with the help of a gentleman I’ve never seen before, is demonstrating how various harnesses and cables work together to create the pulley system for high-flying combat scenes.
My gaze bounces around the room. Anthony’s nowhere to be found. All the stress of seeing him again slowly leaves my body, although it’s replaced with a big question mark as to his whereabouts. I lean over to Megan, whispering as softly as I can while still being audible. “Hey, where’s Anthony?”
She raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know where he is, but I know he’s not here. Kurt says he’ll no longer be instructing this session. He did emphasize that Anthony would be back on board after this boot camp, so I don’t know what happened.”
I’m stunned speechless and can only respond with a nod. So, rather than see me again, he withdrew from the class?
No. Stop it, Eva. Think for a minute. He may be avoiding the class, but I refuse to believe he’s avoiding me. If I had to guess, he’s no longer teaching the course because he wants me to finish it and doesn’t want to interfere with my progress. This time, I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt. Because in my heart, I know he’s a good person.
See there, Satan? I’m finally on to you.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Anthony
I’m in the middle of watching an episode of Caso Cerrado, a beer in my grip and a bag of chips by my side, when my father enters the living room.
I eye the overnight bag in his right hand with suspicion and frown at him. “Where are you going?”
“I’m spending a few days away. I’ll come back for the rest of my things soon.”
I glance around the living room, noticing for the first time that he’s tidied up the place and some of his stuff—books, playing cards, even the case for his eyeglasses—are gone. “What are you talking about?”
My father sighs heavily, drops the bag by his recliner, and motions for me to give him space on the couch. After he lowers himself onto the cushion, he slowly rubs
his hands. “Antonio, it’s time for me to go.”
I sit up and frown at him. “Go? Go where? You’re not making any sense.”
“I don’t think we should live together anymore, Son.”
That’s not a statement I ever thought I’d hear my father make. And it pisses me off to hear it. “Why the hell not? That’s always been the plan. You, me, a dog maybe.” I nudge his shoulder with mine. “Is it the dog? Because if it is, we can buy one this weekend.”
He sucks his teeth. “It’s not the dog. It’s you. Me. Us.”
My chest feels tight and there’s a ringing in my ears I can’t explain. “Well, damn, Pop, why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”
He doesn’t look at me as he speaks. “Mira, I don’t doubt that you love me, but we’re living together for a reason, and it isn’t a good one.”
“Which is?”
“I’m here to remind you what happens when you try and fail at love,” he announces as though this nugget of wisdom should be obvious to me. Newsflash: It’s not.
I draw back and stare at him. “What does that even mean?” Smiling, I say, “You need to stop watching telenovelas all day.”
He throws his hands up in frustration. “Mijo, take a good look at yourself. You’ve created this life that makes it impossible for you to fall in love. You tell women you don’t date, don’t want to get married, don’t want to have kids. You do those crazy dangerous stunts. You live with your father. Dios mio, what woman would ever see you as someone she could live the rest of her life with?”
My heart feels like it’s skittering to a stop. Eva would. She’d put the same energy into making our relationship work that she puts into everything else she does.
Papi strokes his chin, looking more thoughtful than I’ve seen him in a long time. “You tell yourself it’s because love doesn’t last and you don’t want to hurt anyone when it doesn’t work out, but . . .”
“Don’t stop now,” I prod. “You’re on a roll.”
“But I really think it’s the opposite . . .”
