“Sure,” he says cautiously. “She’s been open about that.”
She sputters a little. “You do hear the irony in that statement, no?”
Miguel’s on the verge of glaring at her. “She’s related to someone who’s either in crisis or is a covert narcissist. I knowyou don’t choose your siblings—” Miriam raises an eyebrow at him, but he continues. “But she’s obviously protecting Jonathan. Which is something you and I, of all people, can relate to.”
“Absolutely. But Miguelito, spoken as someone who’s known you thirty-nine out of your forty-two years of existence, you’re a serial monogamist who doesn’t do casual. When you fall, it’s hard. And I just don’t want to see you wrapped up with someone who isn’t in this for the long run. You know what that did to Mami.”
“Fall? Who said anything aboutfalling? I just met Fiona, and she’s leaving tomorrow.”
“When she could have easily left today, or even the day before—and don’t tell me it’s about the puppy,” she adds, glancing at Walter, who’s in a pile near the fireplace. “Because I’m not buying what you’re selling. You’re into her.”
“Says who?” scoffs Miguel.
“You, every single time you talk about her,” says Miriam. “Miguel, you’ve been through so much. First Papi leaving us, then Mami passing, and now…” Her voice trails off. “If you get serious about Fiona and she takes off…I just worry about what happens then.”
He looks away. “Well, lucky for you, she’s leaving, so we won’t have a chance to find out. And lucky for me, you’re flying back to Puerto Rico and aren’t likely to entertain a relationship with Ding-Dong from two thousand miles away.”
“You know I don’t want you to be holed up here alone.”
“I’m not alone. I have Harold.”
“You do,” she says, casting a grateful glance at me. “I can tell Fiona makes you happy.”
“Happy’s not my goal anymore, Miriam. I just don’t want to be in pain.”
Now she frowns. “I’m pretty sure one leads to the other—but maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. Point is, I haven’t seen you like this in a very long time. Just go slow, okay? The last thing you need is a broken heart.”
“I appreciate that you’re worried about me, Miri.” Instead of meeting her eye, Miguel looks up at the ceiling. “But you don’t have to be. Because when your heart’s already been shattered into a million pieces, there’s nothing left to break.”
Thirty-One
“I’ll call you the minute I’m done with my interviews,” says Miriam, giving Miguel a hug. “If all goes well, Michigan’s Puerto Rican population will rise to eleven,” she adds, pulling back to wink at him. “So, wish me luck.”
“Don’t worry, cupcake. You’ve got this,” says Dane, who stopped by with a paper bag full of baked goods this morning to see her off. “And we all know that your brother’s geeked for you to move here.”
“Dane,” warns Miguel.
“Come on,” he says, waving his muffin at Miguel as I hover, waiting to catch any chunks or crumbs that fall my way. “You know it feels amazeballs to live near your favorite people.”
“Notallmy favorite people,” Miguel says gruffly.
Dane tugs at his hair with his free hand. “Oof. Sorry.”
“Apology accepted, Ding-Dong, but only because you’re not going with my sister.” Miguel squints at Miriam, whose nose is wrinkled like a bunny’s. Her bottom lip’s trembling, too. “I didn’t mean to make you upset, Miri,” he quickly adds.
“Does that mean you hope I get the job?” she teases, but a tear’s already trailing down her cheek. She wipes it away and adds, “Sorry, Miguelito. I’ve just missed you, and it’s been so nice to be together.”
“How can you miss me when I’m right here?” he says, enveloping her in his arms again. “And I hope whatever you want to happen is exactly what happens.”
“Me, too.” Then she murmurs something that I can’t quite make out. When she lets him go, his eyes are welled with tears. Is he finally realizing how much better it is when he’s surrounded by people he loves?
I hope so. And I know, deep within me, that I have Fiona to thank for that.
Miguel waves from the stairs while Dane walks Miriam to her rental car, then rides off on his bike. Once they’re both gone, I expect Miguel to head to the kitchen table; while I nip at my belly and backside to calm myself, work is his preferred method of self-soothing. But he goes upstairs instead, and after a moment, I hear his bedroom door close.
I should probably follow him just in case he’s gotten in the shower to finish the cry he started. I definitely should. That’s my job, after all, and while he talks a good game, he’s obviously sad to see his sister leave; she’ll be back, of course, but once she returns, then she’ll leave again.
Except…I’m terribly tired today. And not only do my paws and hips hurt, my torso’s strangely sore, too, which is probably from attempting to evade Walter; after I demonstrated how to hop on the sofa when the humans aren’t paying attention, he tried to keep the good times rolling by sinking his miniature fangs into my fur. I’ll just rest a minutein the kitchen. Though, come to think of it, the small rug near the front door isn’tthatscratchy. Yes, that’ll work just fine…
