I arrive at home late in the evening, and Savannah meets me there, having left after the funeral. She helps me get all my stuff into the house. I first walk to my parents’ bedroom, expecting to see the shattered mirror and reek of stale perfume permeating the air, but nothing. The room smells like my lavender and rose shampoo and body wash. The mirror has also been replaced. I close the door, and when I return, I walk up to Savannah and hug her. “I never tell you how much I love and appreciate having you in my life.” Savannah stiffens and then relaxes at my words.
“Nadia, you never have to tell me. I know, and I do it because you are my family.” Tears streak down my cheeks.
“I feel the same, Savannah,” I tell her as she squeezes my hand.
“What are you going to do now that you are back here?” she asks innocently, and I shrug.
“I think I’m going to let myself grieve for one. Maybe box up more of my parents’ things like I did at the lake house.” I laugh, although there wasn’t anything funny about what I’m saying. “The possibilities are endless.”
She sighs dramatically. “Well, if you need anything at all?—”
I cut her off. “I’ll call, and thanks for being the best sister-friend I could have asked for.” I close the door behind her, and although she eventually leaves me, she tries to stay, despite me shooing her out the door. She’s done enough for me, and I need to start taking care of myself, so I throw my suitcase into my room and fall asleep quickly, embracing the possibility of a better day tomorrow.
When I awake in the morning, I unpack and sort the mail. Most is junk or bills I need to deal with, but one envelope with familiar handwriting catches my eye. When I open it, I see it’s from Layla. I take it with me and walk to my father’s office. I remember her saying how she wrote to him every year, but he didn’t answer her back, so I decide to go through each file in search of the missing letters and the key to understanding what happened all those years ago. I pull open another file cabinet that contains a file folder labeled as miscellaneous. “That’s weird,” I mutter. But when I open it, my heart cracks at seeing all those letters. The bastard saved them all. I upend the box and spread them out on the floor, organizing them by date and adding the new one to the end of the stack. Surrounded by her words, I decide to uncover their past, so that I may navigate my future.
I barely slept last night,haunted by dreams of Manny and Catalina, and my mind replaying the things that Layla said. Onething that made me almost bolt upright in bed, is remembering Layla saying that she had written my father so many notes that were never returned. So today, I am on a mission to read them and learn more about what happened all those years ago. I get dressed and brew some coffee. Walking into my father’s office, I place the steaming mug of coffee on the desk, sitting in his chair that I helped pick out. I used to sit in his lap as he worked. I can almost smell his cologne, embedded in the upholstery. It smells like leather, furniture polish, and sandalwood. I inhale deeply, almost hearing him laugh when I told him I wanted to be just like him. I only knew one side of him, and it kills me that he could have been so different with his other daughter. Despite the circumstances, she didn’t deserve it. The one who hurt the worst was my mother. God, how she must have felt at his betrayal. After she tried so hard to get pregnant with me, I guess I’ll never know everything that happened.
I once again retrieve the miscellaneous file, containing the now-organized stack of letters I found yesterday. I open it, picking up the one dated fifteen years back. It is of a young Layla, so hopeful to meet her father. I can feel the excitement, and then I notice a picture of her in the envelope with her grade, which reads, 'To my dad.' My tears fall on the scattered stationery as I pull another sheet of paper out, and I sob louder, seeing it is a letter from my dad that he never sent. “Why, Dad? Why did you not send it? You fucking coward!” I scream into the office void. He tells her how pretty she looks in her picture and asks about her grades. He tells her about me and hopes we can meet someday.
I decide that I can only read one more before I am emotionally drained. He answered every one of her letters. It appears they stopped when she entered high school. I’m honestly surprised that she continued that long. The next day, I get up and do the same thing, and then each day goes the same until I have read them all and I understand a little more about my sister, I can sense her anger at the end for not having received a response and in her last letter, she talks about finding someone who loves her. She tells him about his grandchild and how beautiful she is. Layla talks about her family and how she is trying to be the person they need. It all ended so tragically. I suppose that’s where her story ends and mine begins.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
School starts on Monday, and Nadia will return to the city. I haven’t been the same since she left. She took a piece of my heart that I can’t get back. It was the hardest thing I have ever had to go through in my life. My divorce from Layla was nothing in comparison to caring for Catalina, who not only lost her mother but also lost Nadia, who did more for her in that short time than her biological mother had. She instantly became a part of our lives these past few months, and then vanished without so much as a goodbye. So, of course, the impact was devastating, not only for Catalina but for me. I had let myself be open to the idea of someone who would be there for me and my daughter, to have my fear confirmed when it all went to shit, and I had to nurse my broken heart along with a little girl who didn’t askfor any of this.
My mother stayed to help care for us both, but Catalina has struggled, holding onto the rabbit that Nadia gave her. When I asked her if I could read her a bedtime story, she just curled up around herself, shaking her head. So today, I was happy that she decided to go out with my mother to buy school supplies. She starts school this week, and our town is fortunate to have an all-day kindergarten. I appreciate having such supportive parents who pick up and leave to help me whenever I ask. Catalina has been adding sparkle stickers to all her folders and notebooks to ensure everyone knows they are hers. I bring the last of her bags into her room, and she squeals in delight. I walk out, and my stomach growls at the delicious smells permeating from the kitchen.
“Amá, what are you making for dinner? It smells amazing.” I pick up the cover from the casserole dish, inhaling the aromatic meat stew. “Calabacita con puerco,” she says proudly, coming over to turn the pork and squash stew. My mouth waters, and I realize it's the first time since everything happened that I have had an appetite. As if noticing the same thing, she grabs a bowl and serves me a hearty portion with some fresh rosemary olive oil bread.
“Look, Papá.” Catalina comes in with her new school backpack, loaded up to the top with her brand-new school supplies. She puts the backpack on her shoulder, and I see my little girl growing up so fast right before my eyes, and there is nothing I can do about it. I wish I could slow it down, because before I know it, she will be graduating from college. She runs back into her room to place her stuff away. Another smaller version of my meal is placed by my chair, and Amá grabs herself some food sitting in the chair beside me. I can tell she wants to ask me more, but is afraid to pry. I don’t know why, it’s never stopped her before.
“Spit it out, Amá,” I tell her, and she chuckles.
“Mira?” She laughs. “I was going to ask you if you plan on doing something about getting your girlfriend back, mijo.” My spoon stops midway to my mouth. I give her a look that would scare most men away, but she laughs at me instead. “No me mires así.” She chuckles, clearly unimpressed if she’s telling me not to look at her that way and laughing at me. I smirk as I take another mouthful of her stew.
I sigh, knowing that she is relentless, so I might as well get it over with. “Okay.” I put my fork down in the bowl. “I’m listening if you have any suggestions.”
“I thought you’d never ask.” She leans in, and that’s how I’m trying to find Nadia at the university home to over thirty thousand students. She’s a business major, so she’s probably somewhere around the business school. I’ve been walking around campus for over four hours, and still nothing. I decide to pick through my lunch bag and sit on a park bench in the commons. It is getting cooler, but not cold enough to make me want to sit inside.
I grab a handful of nuts and drink my seltzer water. I’m glad that I decided to bring the lunch I usually take to work with me. I feel like I blend in this way. I laugh to myself, remembering my college years. God knows that was so different. For one, I had Catalina at the end of my senior year. In fact, I was about the same age as Nadia, juggling so many things.
Although I love my daughter, I wish that I was able to finish my last year without a newborn and Layla, who was unable to care for our daughter as she struggled with her own issues and postpartum depression, or at least that is what they diagnosed her with then. God, Layla. I hang my head, taking another bite of my sandwich. I feel a buzz across my skin, and when I lift my head, as if she could sense my presence, Nadia turns around, catching my stare, and I stop mid-chew, standing and dropping my lunch on the leaf-covered grass. Her mouth opens to tell her friend something, who nods and walks away.
She stands there, deciding whether she wants to approach, but I don’t give her the chance. I run over to her and stop right before I get to her. There are tears in her eyes. “Manny,” she whispers, and I close the distance, scooping her in my arms.
“Mi cariño.” I hold her tightly like I never want to let her go, breathing in her scent of lavender and roses. God, how I want to bottle that scent and bring it home with me. She looks around, and I set her mind at ease. “She didn’t come. She’s at home with my mom. I wanted to see and talk to you. Is that okay?” She nods, and I take her hand in mine as we walk over to the park bench where my discarded lunch lies on the ground.
Snow fallsoutside my front windows that overlook the yard, and there is a knock at the door. I see the postal service dropping off a package at my door, so I walk over to it, and when I open it, I see a box addressed to me from Nadia. As I pick it up and bring it to the counter, I search for some scissors to cut the clear tape away, allowing me to open the flaps of the parcel. When I peer inside, I see a present for me and one for Catalina. I pull the black fabric apart to see the white writing across it.BET TOGE? I look at it, wondering if it has a hidden meaning, but nope, that’s just what it says. I put it on anyway, not understanding the meaning.
I pick up the other box, and it is a beautiful hardback ofAlice in Wonderland. Inside, there is an inscription.
Catalina,
Women are stronger when they arm themselves with a few simple truths, so read lots, love more, and be happy, Pickles.
Love, Nadia
I call out to Catalina so that she can see her gift. She comes running over, clutching the book to her chest. “Do you think she’s coming back someday soon, Papá?” Catalina asks, her eyes hopeful.
