Something Like This (Secrets) (28 page)

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Because it forces you to talk about your father?”

“Don’t push me to talk about things I don’t want to talk about,” he said, his voice elevated.

“Fine.”

“Do you want to try the crispy spinach?” he asked.

“Fine with me.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry I raised my voice.”

“I don’t care about that. I care that you’re hurting, but you won’t talk to me.”

The waiter came over and asked if we were ready to order. Reece told him we needed a few more minutes.

“I love you. I worry about you,” I said.

“And I love you. I worry about you, too.”

“Great, so we’re a couple of worrywarts,” I said.

“Yeah, but we’re going to be okay.”

“How do you know?”

“Because we’re together.”

I smiled. “Ready to order?”

“I’m starving. So, yes or no to the crispy spinach?”

“Yes, dummy.”

––––––––

D
ecember rolled around fast and with it came the cold. I wondered if my father would seek shelter. I wondered if he had sold my bracelet. I thought about him every day and still lit candles for him. He hadn’t called me. It had been about four months since I had seen him.

Even though things were going great between Reece and me, my father still haunted me. And Reece had yet to open up about his.

We spent a lot of time doing what couples do—going to the movies, eating out, staying over at each other’s place, taking walks in the park and visiting museums, and very little time talking about our issues.

We were like so many other people in the world, going about our day, smothering lurking demons, frantically trying to overcome our pasts. The old limping lady I had met at the cathedral had told me, “You’re not responsible for all the things that happen to you, but you are responsible for how you react to what happens to you. You either stay on your knees or you get up. Those are your choices.”

Her name was Ms. Gia, and whenever I saw her at the cathedral, I lit a candle for her daughter and promised I would never stay down on my knees for long.

I still hadn’t found the one manuscript that could save the All Write Literary Agency. Grace finished her manuscript, much to Mr. Walker’s and Tom’s delight. They hadn’t been able to sell it yet, but they were putting up a good fight and it was only a matter of time before a publisher made an offer.

Reece decided he wasn’t interested in publishing his novel after all. He wasn’t ready. One night, he put it in a drawer and declared it dead. Mr. Walker didn’t force the matter and neither did I. Hell, I had yet to read it. Reece had yet to offer, something that bothered me, but I kept quiet about it and respected his decision. I figured I had no right to bug him about his writing if I hadn’t even told him about my short stories.

My father once said to me, “You’re going to have simple moments, moments you will treasure and want to pause forever. Hold onto those moments, because they rarely last. Don’t rush your life away, keep some things for yourself and only reveal them when you’re ready, wait for a simple moment.”

I wanted to keep my stories to myself for a little longer; they represented a simple moment and I wasn’t willing to press play yet.

Tom and Grace were in a rocky as all hell relationship. That’s the only way I could describe it. One minute they were all over each other and the next they were arguing and swearing each other off. Drama queens, for sure. I did think they loved each other and just hadn’t quite figured out how to act like adults about it.

Anyway, Tom and I were cool. We kept it mostly to work with a little friendship thrown in here and there.

Reece’s mom was in remission and getting stronger every day.

Tonight, I was on my way to meet him at the Kennedy Center. We were going to see
The Nutcracker
. I had never in my life seen a play, let alone been to the Kennedy Center. Reece would have picked me up right at work, but he was babysitting his little brother and I told him to meet me there when his mom got home. I wanted some time to take it all in by myself.

When I was a kid, my father took me to the George Washington University campus. Smack in the middle of the city, it didn’t look like what I had envisioned a campus to look like, open space, green lawns, and lots of tall fat trees.

As we walked around, my father pointed out buildings, but one particular building caught my eye. There, on the other side of a busy highway, stood a grand, white box-like building. To me, it looked like it had been taken straight out of a fairy tale.

“What’s that?” I asked my father, pointing to it.

“That, my little
mosca,
is the Kennedy Center. It’s a place where people go to watch plays and hear music.”

“Will you take me there someday?”

He picked me up, spun me around and said, “
Si, si
, of course.” He put me down. “Do you know why we’re here today? Why I brought you here?”

I shook my head, my braided pigtails swinging in the air.

“So you can see what’s possible for you. Look at those kids over there walking up the steps. They’re going to class. They’re students here. Someday, you can be one of them if you want. You’ll learn lots of things. Study History, English, and Philosophy, anything you want. And you’ll also go to the Kennedy Center and listen to opera and watch actors act out stories on stage. You will have it all.”

I eyed the students, books in their hands, backpacks hanging from their shoulders...I didn’t fully understand what my father meant. I was only eight years old. But that day stuck with me. I knew it meant something important.

As I approached the Kennedy Center’s entrance, my heart thumping loudly, I held that memory in my mind.

Grace had let me borrow one of her dresses, a red one which she said was a replica of a dress Marilyn Monroe had once worn in a movie. She even let me borrow a thick shawl, which, if I was being honest, didn’t completely keep me warm. But far be it from me to hide Marilyn’s dress with a heavy winter coat. Whether Marilyn had ever worn a dress like the one I had on didn’t matter because either way, I felt incredibly glamorous and confident. At that moment, I felt that yes, I could have it all.

Opening the doors I stepped inside the grand foyer, plush red carpeting beneath my heels.

The foyer stole my breath for more than a second, flags from different nations hung above, and magnificent crystal chandeliers dangled from the ceiling. I glided my fingers across the white marble walls and let my senses take in everything about the place my father had said we’d someday visit.

My cell phone rang. I pulled it out of my little black purse.

“Hello,” I said.

“It’s your tia.”

“Tia Conchita, how are you? I’m so happy to hear your voice.”

“I’m here.”

“Where?”

“Here in DC. I came for a visit and wanted to surprise you.”

I couldn’t believe it. My aunt had really come.

“I’m so happy. I’m going to cry. I have so much to tell you.”

“Can you come to my hotel tomorrow?” she asked.

“Of course. Oh my God, I’m so happy. I can’t wait to see you.”

“I told you I would come.”

“I wasn’t sure you were telling me the truth.”

“You’re my niece. I would never lie to you.”

“I’m at the Kennedy Center right now. I’m meeting Reece. We’re going to see
The Nutcracker.
”

“That’s wonderful. Have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.”

“We’ll talk over a café con leche.”

“With lots of sugar.”

“Tons.”

“Bye, tia.”

“Adios.”

My beautiful aunt had made the trip for me. She cared about me. She loved me. I had family. I wasn’t alone in the world.

A text startled me. I saw it was from Reece.

Hi, angel. You look like you’re visiting us from heaven.

I looked around and ahead and saw him standing at the end of the long entrance.

Dressed in a black suit, he gave me a sailor wave.

My heart thumped even louder as I crossed the hall to meet him.

I felt like a princess running toward her Prince Charming.

“You look gorgeous in that dress,” he said when I reached him.

I twirled around for him. “Marilyn Monroe wore one just like it.”

“I’m sure she didn’t look as good as you do.” He placed his hand in mine. “Do you want to get a drink and go out on the terrace? We have thirty minutes before the show starts.”

I was in a perfect heaven. “That sounds delightful.”

“Okay, my red princess, let’s do it.”

We headed toward one of the concession stands, passing people outfitted in clothing ranging from glamorous gowns and suits to jeans and sweaters to ripped pants and bootie skirts.

Turning the corner, I halted and iced over. Up ahead, just feet away, was my father. He looked different, clean, shaven, and dressed in nice clothes, but I knew it was him. It was definitely him. Butterflies immediately attacked my stomach; my body shivered, my throat closed.

“What’s wrong?” Reece asked.

I didn’t say anything.

“Jadie, what is it?”

Tearing up, and pointing, I said, “That’s my father.”

Reece gave him a look. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“What do you want to do? Do you want to talk to him?”

I was overjoyed. Not only did I want to talk to him, I wanted to run to him and jump into his arms. My father was okay. He wasn’t in the streets living underneath train tracks, begging for food or seeking shelter from the cold.

I flew to him. “Papi!”

His stare on me, he yelled, “
Dios mio,
Jadie, my girl.”

We embraced. He held me tight.

“You look good,” I said.

“You look beautiful,” he said, glowing.

“How’s this possible? How are you here?” I asked, noticing his uniform.

“I help guests find their way, take tickets, things like that.”

Relief and extreme happiness overtook me. Was this really happening?
Please, God, don’t let this be a dream, please God, let this be real. I beg you, let this be real.

“I live in a group house. There are a few of us, we’re all trying together. We’re trying to be better, to get better.”

I hugged him again. “I’m so proud of you. I’m soooo proud of you.”

“It’s because of you. Do you remember when I told you I’d someday bring you here?”

“Yes.”

“It’s all because of you. I wanted to get better for you. You saved me.”

“We saved each other,” I said, waving Reece over. “I want you to meet someone.”

“You’re not embarrassed? I don’t want to embarrass you,” he whispered.

“I love you. You’re my father. I’m so proud of you.”

“Not as proud as I am of you,” he said.

“This is my boyfriend, Reece,” I said.

Reece held out his hand.

My father shook it. “Strong grip.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, sir,” Reece said.

My prince was meeting my father in a fairy-tale castle.

“She’s a sweet and special girl,” my father said, taking my hand and squeezing it.

Reece winked at me. “Yes, she is. I love her very much.”

“Will you take care of her?” my father asked.

“Always. I promise.”

“You look like a good guy. Are you one? A good guy?” my father asked.

“I am. I swear it.”

“I believe you.” Then my father turned to me. “Hold onto what you love.”

“I will,” I said.

My father touched the name pin on his shirt. “I’m going to keep trying. I don’t know if I’ll succeed, but I’m going to keep trying.”

Manuel Santiago. That was my father’s name. Thank you, God, thank you for helping him.

“Have you been out on the terrace yet?” he asked.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “Not yet.”

“Take her out there,” he said to Reece. “You can see the Potomac River. You can almost see the entire city if you look really hard. You can see it all, almost touch it.”

Reece tapped my arm. “Shall we?”

I swallowed again. “Papi, before we go. I need to know one more thing.”

“
Que cosa
?” he said.

“What color paint were you buying in the store that day? The day I saw you. What color paint were you buying?”

“Purple.”

He knew purple was my favorite color. I had told him during one of our Popeye’s lunches.

Digging in the pocket of his pants, he said, “I have something for you.” He held out my bracelet. “It’s always with me. That day in the coffee shop, after you left, I devoured all the muffins and the bagel and drank down the juice in two gulps. And I put your bracelet in my pocket. I was tempted to sell it, but I couldn’t go through with it. It wasn’t right. It belonged to you.”

I squeezed out a tear and took the bracelet from him. “Thank you for keeping it safe.”

“Go out to the terrace,” he said.

“Until we see each other again,” I said.

“Si, si, my daughter,
hasta luego.
”

––––––––

R
eece placed his hand on the small of my back and escorted me out to the terrace. The sun had set and the city danced in brilliant Christmas lights and decorations. The river humbly flowed down below as if it was afraid it would awaken sleeping souls if it moved too fast.

My heart was at peace.

“I meant what I told your father,” Reece said. “I will always take care of you. I have some things to work out, some issues to resolve, I know that. But you’re not one of them. From the moment I saw you, I knew it was going to be you. It’s you, it’s only you.”

“What was your dad like?” I asked him, taking a chance.

He glanced at the river. “He was kind. And funny. I miss him.” He moved closer to the terrace railing. “He supported my writing. He never told me whether or not he actually liked my stories, but he wanted me to be happy. He knew I was never going to be a lawyer, no matter how much my mom tried to push me in that direction.”

“Do you think you might let me read one of your stories?”