A rushing sense of déjà vu passed over me. I had been in this spot before. But unlike the maddening indignant wave that had crowded me the last time I sat in this seat—one that made me want to run away as fast as I could, now I was willing to sit here as long as it took to get some answers. Because in some ways I felt further along than I’d ever been before, but in others, I felt completely lost.
I thought I wanted to ask my parents how they knew they knew when a choice was right for them. Or how did they realize what they wanted to do in life? But that’s not what came out.
Instead, my eyes alighted on my mother. Tracking her hand as it slid up my father’s arm and landed on the back of his neck. Such a familiar touch. So loving. And yet I touched Con like that without a second thought. All the time.
I zeroed in on the movement. My mouth growing dry as my body knew what I wanted to ask before I did.
“What do you think it's like when something means everything to you?”
“Well that depends,” Apá said.
“On what?
“On what this something is. There’s a difference between everything and everything that matters, mija,” he stated. I just blinked at him, and he straightened just a little bit. “Everything is, well, everything. Generic, mundane, everyday things. Everything that matters is the reason why we put up with all the other stuff.”
I shook my head, “How do you tell the difference?”
“Everything might as well just be anything, Celestia. You can take or leave it no matter how it goes,” he explained. “But when it matters to you, it’s wired to the core of you. Burned there. And no matter how far, how wide, how often you try to push it away, it always finds you.”
“Is it the same for people?” I asked.
My parents looked at each other, not even bothering to hide their surprised expressions. I ignored this.
“It’s the same,” my dad said, blinking. “Maybe more—what young man is telling my girl she is everything to him?”
“Not a guy, Apá,'' was my gut response because I was so used to saying it. But Connor was a guy. A man. I don’t know why I had never thought of him as anything other than this blob in the best friend category until now. But if anything, from his strong words and actions to the strong body he knew how to use, Connor was a man. And this was about him.
“What person is so in love with you?” Apá deadpanned.
“Love?” I squeaked. They both looked at me funny.
Ama got up and sighed. “We had better not worry about it. Whoever it is, she has probably already given them a run for their money if she doesn’t even know that they love her. It’s like she’s doing our job for us.”
I gulped. I didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. She was making a huge jump from being important to someone—which I didn’t doubt I was to Connor—to being in love with them—which I highly doubted he was with me.
He had been acting weird and saying a lot of stuff and maybe he had been a little bit handsy. But in love? That was a whole different ball game. A game that Con and I didn’t play.
I shook my head to clear the thoughts tangling there, and only stopped when my mom came over and smoothed hair away from my face. “Stop thinking so hard, mija. Just do what feels right, si?”
I nodded, though not completely convinced. It was hard when what felt right was being in Connor’s arms. Not when he was holding me like he would a friend either. What felt right was Connor’s lips and his body and his sweet, sweet words that were absolutely spoiling me rotten. What felt right was everything I had been telling myself was wrong. What felt right was this overwhelming emotion that I promised myself I would never feel for him, because if I did, I could wind up losing him.
What felt right was against the rules.
She sighed and leaned down to place a kiss on my forehead. “Well anyway, I came in here because your brothers and sisters are home. All of you here, and it’s not even family dinner, ha! I think they want to talk.”
I just nodded again. Of course they’d hunt me down. “I’ll be out in a second.”
“Okay, mama.” she smoothed one last hand over my cheek before leaving the room.
I sat there for a while, just sort of looking at my hands, at the wall, at my father. Processing. Absorbing. Reasoning. Then finally, as my eyes began to clear and my dad came back into view, I saw that he was looking at me too.
Everything that matters…
I went to him. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders from behind his chair, I placed a kiss on his thin head of hair. Into his person I whispered, “I come in here when I miss you too, Papi.”
Chapter Thirty-six
CECI
