I need to change that. Convince her I’m not going to leave her. I’m not like everyone else. I’ll stand with her if she’ll have me. But shit. Will she have me? If I push, can I get her to change her mind? Or is it truly too late now. Three weeks might not sound like much, but it’s felt like forever. Did I wait too long?
Thirty-three
Bibiana doesn’t go to work for another few hours. She’s working the closing shift, which I only know because earlier this week she asked if I wanted Luis an extra day when she had to go in. I agreed right away. Obviously. But Jae said she wasn’t home, and I’m not due to pick Luis up until six. That’s still three hours away.
I pace my room as I wait, the minutes ticking by at a snail’s pace when the distinct sounds of my brothers and sister returning greet me. They’re laughing about something and it’s a sound I’m not used to hearing here, in this house. At first, I tense, my body certain that the noise will draw unwanted attention, but then my mind catches up. Raul is gone. We’re safe.
I let myself enjoy my baby sister’s laughter. Listen to the ease and joy she has and take comfort in knowing she never has to worry about being hit again. Not here in her own home.
I want to hear my son’s laughter here too. To have all of the ugly memories I have in this house replaced with new ones. Better ones.
The door to my bedroom opens, my oldest brother leaning in. “What are you doing?” Roberto asks, his tone gruff but not unwelcome. Having him home still feels weird. We were never very close and being overseas the last four years didn’t help us get any closer, but I meant what I said when I told him we were good. I can tell he’s trying. He goes out of his way to check on all three of us, and he’s been great with Luis when I bring him over, really taking on the role of uncle. My hard exterior brother has a soft spot for my boy.
I look down at the football in my hands for a second longer before throwing it in a box. I’ve been wracking my brain all afternoon on how to show Bibiana that I’m different. That I can change. And this is one of the ways I plan to show her I’m ready to put her, put our family first. I know she’s insecure. Has issues with other girls flirting with me and I don’t know how to make that shit stop but, I sigh, I need to get the fuck over myself. This is the right move. I had a back-up plan for a reason and an educational scholarship is just a good as a football one and will take some of the attention off of me.
If I have any chance of winning my girl back, I need to put her and Luis first. They have to be my primary focus. Not football. I need to be sensible. Get a real job. Take care of them. And I can’t do that and chase my dreams at the same time. I’ve had nothing but time to think about this. It has to be this way.
“Just packing up some junk,” I say, tossing my cleats in next.
He considers me for a moment, and I try and ignore the way his stare makes me feel. Like I’m a problem he can’t quite figure out. My brother is good at that, puzzling things together, assessing a situation and then responding in the manner he thinks is necessary. I’d blame it on the military, but a part of me remembers him always being like this. He sees too much that others don’t.
“I never thought I’d hear you say anything football related was junk,” he muses.
“We all have to grow up at some point, right? Isn’t that why you came back home?” I don’t need to look at him to know my words hit their mark.
“Do you love her?”
I take a deep breath and ignore the need to snap at him. Isn’t it obvious? If I didn’t love her, I wouldn’t be this much of a fucking wreck. I wouldn’t be packing up all my shit. Closing the door on all the things that matter most to me. And I sure as hell wouldn’t be taking Jae’s goddamn advice. “Yeah, man. I do.”
“Do you love her more than you love being angry with her?”
“What the hell does that mean?” I’m not angry with her. Not anymore. I mean, I was, sure. But I get it now. I understand her damage, or at least I think I do.
“It’s a yes or no question,” he says.
“I’m not angry,” I say with a huff.
He shakes his head. “Yeah, bro, you are. You’ve been angry for a few weeks now and all I see is you getting angrier by the day.”
“Nah, man. You don’t know—“
He raises a hand and starts ticking off the reasons he believes I’m angry. “You’re mad she isn’t giving you a chance. You’re mad she’s made opinions about you that you don’t think are true. You’re mad she’s got your boy most of the time while you get visitation. You’re mad—“
My blood boils over. “I’m not fucking mad.” He raises a brow and I exhale a harsh breath. “I don’t enjoy being angry with her. I don’t want to be pissed off at the girl I care about.” But he’s right, I am. I’m so fucking angry, even as I’m miserable without her. Even as I convince myself that Jae has the right of it, that she’s damaged too and that I have to fight for her because dammit, I want her to fucking fight for me too.
“Do you want to be angry at her for forcing you to sacrifice your dreams, too?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Yeah, man, it is. If you give up on football, you’re going to resent that girl. You might get her back, but it’ll only be temporary. You’ll sabotage it. Trust me. I know.”
“Then what the hell do you suggest, huh?” How else do I show her that I’m in it for the long haul? I’ve been sitting here for hours and this is the best I’ve come up with. If Roberto is saying it isn’t good enough, then fuck me, because I don’t know what is.
He looks at me like he’s trying to explain psychics to a toddler. I wait.
“Let the anger go. It’s that simple.”
I scowl. “I did. I am. I—“
