John places his espresso cup down gently. “It won’t be the easiest road ahead. It will probably be painful for a while. But I think God will surprise you.”
I run a hand through my hair. “I think the majority of the heartache is behind me now. I fought for the marriage, and I’m at peace about how it turned out—there’s nothing else I could do. I just worry about the kids.”
“You love them, that’s clear. Your kids know, too, even through all of this.”
“I hope so.”
A voice floats in from the kitchen. “Boss, you want a coffee?”
Camila knows me well. “Yes, please.”
“As black as your ex-wife’s heart, coming right up!”
“Camila...” I shake my head. She can’t say stuff like that. I look over at John—he’s laughing.
She comes over with the espresso quickly. “Really, you love my brilliance. It’s why I’ve been here all of these years.” She pats my shoulder with a motherly touch.
“You’re right. And for the coffee.”
She chuckles and disappears back into the kitchen.
“How’s Maria, John?” I ask as I sip what is probably my third espresso of the day. His wife is always his favorite topic.
“She’s good. Cooking up a storm at home as we speak.” He beams at the mention of her.
“Maria is a great cook.”
He pats his stomach. “My belly agrees.”
As we talk and catch up on life, I’m grateful for his company. He never mentions Iris again, sensing, I think, that I’m done discussing her for now. The worry about the kids lingers, stubborn as ever. I don’t know if it will ever fully fade.
After a while, John stands and we walk toward the door.
“I’ll see you on Sunday. But don’t be discouraged, Nate. Things will work out. Your kids will be okay.”
“Thanks, John. See you then.” I close the door behind him.
Camila pops out of the kitchen, waving a wooden spoon like a magic wand.
“Now, let’s get some more feijoada in you. You need lots of comfort food right now.”
“Not too much comfort food, Camila. I don’t want to fatten up after a divorce. How’s that going to look?”
“Like a man who enjoys good food. What else?”
I chuckle. “Okay, I’m happy withsomefeijoada. Leave some for the kids tomorrow too, please?”
“Already on it. I’ll be here for breakfast anyway.”
I sit down at the table as she brings me some of her wonderful black bean stew. Maybe everything feels unpredictable right now. I don’t like the uncertainty. Worry is clogging my brain up. But one bite into Camila’s wonderful black bean stew has me relaxing. Tomorrow will bring its own worry. Right now, I’ll soak up this comfort food.
2
Lizzie
1989, Switzerland
“Hubba, hubba, now that is a beautiful face for an instructor,” Olivia smirks at me. Olivia is the family’s grandmother, in her sixties. Her eyesight is crisp and clear and is taking in the beauty of this man, too.
