“No, I really can’t.” I pull my hand away. “I can’t risk losing this investment and everyone knowing the truth if Silvana sees us together and decides to spill the truth.”
“Are you serious?”
I finally look into her eyes, almost in awe.
“Yeah, Val. I’m serious. I don’t live your life. You don’t get it. You don’t understand what it’s like to struggle. To be months behind on rent. To be two unfortunate events away from being homeless with your cat. To want so badly to keep your last memories of someone who meant so much to you.”
Valentina scoffs.
“What?” I snap.
“You’d rather have people believe a lie about you than be with someone who cares about you for who you are and not for what you have? It’s just a restaurant, Isa.”
“It’s all I have left of my father, Val!” I shout, alerting a young couple walking on the sidewalk a few feet before the front gate.
“It’s just a stupid building that sells food. It’s not your father. He doesn’t live in the walls, Isa. Your father is in your heart, but you’re too damn scared to let go to see that. The people who care about you the most are in your heart.”
I lay back on the headrest, staring up through the moonroof. The tall trees huddle over the sky, creating a dark canopy. The moon shines between the branches, sending streaks of light into the car.
“So you’re really going to turn your back on something real here for a restaurant that’s already breaking you?” She pauses, searching my face. “I know it’s not easy. But can’t you see what we could have? Don’t you want something that’s just for you?”
“Val, please,” I whisper. “You just don’t get it.”
“Oh no, I get it. You’re little miss perfect in your mother’s eyes. She thinks everything is going swimmingly because of you. You can’t risk that. What will you have if you don’t have the restaurant, right? Because there’s nothing else you could see yourself having or doing.” She shakes her head, now avoiding my eyes. “You can take the cabin until we leave. I’ll sleep somewhere else.”
“Where are you going to go?” I ask.
“Don’t worry about me. Since it seems like there’s only one thing you care about.”
Valentina pulls the handle and opens the door, whose rusty hinges break the silence in the forest, causing a few birds to fly away in fear. She slams it shut and leaves. I watch her slowly disappear through the rearview mirror. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself down.
As the tears begin to well up in my eyes, my breath hitches in my throat. My chest tightens, and a lump forms in my throat, making it hard to speak or swallow. I try to fight the tears, but they spill down my cheeks like a broken pipe. Sobs shake my entire body, causing me to tremble and shake.
The tears keep coming in waves, and I can’t control them. My face is red and puffy, and my eyes are swollen, making it difficult to see. I gasp for air, trying to catch my breath between sobs, but my crying only worsens. My emotions are consuming me, and my thoughts are racing a mile a minute. No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop the flood of tears. Each sob is a painful reminder of what I lost. What I let go of.
The sound of my crying is loud and guttural, like that of a wounded animal. My heart aches, and the tears won’t stop flowing. I haven’t felt like this since the day I heard the news about my father. I cry for what feels like an eternity, until finally, my sobs slowly begin to subside. My breath is still ragged, and my face is still wet, but the tears have stopped. I wipe my face with my sleeve, trying to clear away the evidence of my outburst. But the pain in my heart remains. I know that I will cry again, that this won’t be the last time. But for now, I just sit here, feeling raw and exposed, trying to catch my breath and calm down. I reach into my bag and grab my father’s journal for some comfort and distraction.
I slowly skim the pages. A photo of him standing in front of the restaurant appears. A handwritten caption below says, “My dream came true.” This is why I need to win this investment. This simple sentence solidifies it for me. I can’t lose my father’s dream. Valentina would never understand. I continue flipping through the book and reach a page that causes me to stop instantly. It’s an envelope taped to the paper. It has my name and dorm address from college on it. I slowly rip it off the paper, trying not to damage the journal. I tear the envelope open and pull out a letter written by my father. This must have been a letter he was going to send me right before he passed away. I rub my eyes as they continue to blur from my tears.
My dearest Isabella,
I wanted to tell you how much you mean to me. You are the light of my life, and I am so proud of the strong, kind, and beautiful woman you have become. I hope college is going well, my brave little girl.
I know that I haven’t been feeling well lately, and it’s difficult to talk about, but I wanted to let you know that even though I may not always be here with you, I will always be in your heart. You have brought so much joy and love into my life, and I am grateful for every moment we have shared.
I want you to know that I believe in you and know that you have the strength and resilience to overcome any challenges life throws your way. You have proven time and time again that you are capable of achieving great things, and I have no doubt that you will continue to do so.
As you go through life, my dear, I hope you find a love as strong as I once had. A love that will support you through thick and thin, a love that will make you laugh and cry, and a love that will stand the test of time. You deserve nothing but the best; I know you will find it.
I may not always be by your side, but I will always be with you in spirit. I know I couldn’t be the most successful man for you and your mother, but please know I tried. I only wanted the best for you. You deserve it, my Isabellita. I love you more than words could ever express, and I will always be proud to call you my daughter. I hope you’ll always be proud of your father, despite all his faults. Your strength will get you through everything, but your love will help you soar.
Forever and always,
Dad
I flip the page and find a small poem written on the back.
As I grow old and tired, my dear,
