“That’s more like a revenant than a specter.”
“Jo, God damn it,” Aida scolded, but the laughter in voice betrayed her. “Are you hearing me?”
“I hear you, Aida. I’ll think about it.”
“Thank you.” Aida smoothed Jo’s disheveled hair and cuddled against her shoulder. She kicked at the blankets until her feet were exposed. “It’s fucking hot under here.”
“Sorry. My AC isn’t great, and it’s too humid to open a window.”
“At least tornado season is over, right?”
“Yeah.”
They grew quiet as Jo ate another nugget and thought about tornadoes. And shelters. And Felix. Being in his arms. Feeling safe. She sniffled.
Aida took her hand and weaved their fingers together. “Tell me.”
“I wish… I wish I had told him I love him.”
“Do you love him? Or do you just wish you’d said it?”
Jo didn’t answer right away, giving the question the thought it deserved. Loving Jeremy had been hard sometimes. A lot of the time. Loving Jeremy had meant making excuses for him and laughing off his shitty behavior. It had meant chipping away at herself and constantly apologizing and giving up the things she loved to go along with what he wanted.
Being with Felix wasn’t like that at all. Maybe that was what made it so hard to recognize that what she felt for him… was love. She loved his smile and the gray in his beard. She loved the way he laughed at her jokes, that high-pitched chuckle such a stark contrast to his deep voice. She loved his body and the way it made her feel. She loved how kind he was, how hardworking and thoughtful and meticulous and patient. She loved that he dove headfirst into Monsters and Mythology and gave it his all and was honest about his opinion of it. She loved watching him with Tito—their affectionate gibes, the gentle way they spoke about Lita, how Felix had dropped everything to be with him when his world came crashing down.
Loving Felix was easy. It was the easiest thing in the world. Now that Jo finally saw it for what it was, it was undeniable.
“I love him, Aida. I love Felix.”
“Of course you do, babe,” Aida said with a soft smile.
Jesus Christ, even her pragmatic best friend had figured it out before she had.
“So does that mean you’re ready to talk to him?” Aida asked.
Ah, there was that pragmatism again. Thank God. Jo would be lost without it.
She shook her head. “I think—” Tears welled up in her eyes. Why was it so hard to say out loud? There was no shame in it, of course, and Aida wouldn’t judge her. (It was her goddamn idea in the first place.) But there went that voice in her head, the part of her that expected to be ridiculed and let down, warning her to be careful. And that, in and of itself, was enough to prove that this was the right choice.
Closing her eyes, she said the words that needed to be given voice. “I think I need to talk to a therapist. I need to figure out some things for me before I bring Felix back into my life.”
Aida pulled Jo in for a bone-crushing hug. The last two nuggets slid off Jo’s plate into the mass of blankets, never to be seen again.
Ashville Memorial Park was quiet that Sunday. The late-morning air was muggy and close, stirred only by the occasional breeze. Felix and Tito sat side by side on a shaded bench overlooking a small pond in the middle of the cemetery. Lita’s grave, freshly adorned with the orange and yellow gerbera daisies they’d brought, was to their right.
Tito gripped Felix’s hand tightly, his eyes following the birds that flitted down to cool themselves in the pond. When Lita was alive, their backyard had been filled with bird feeders and bird baths. She had stood on the back porch every day, drinking her morning café and counting the different birds who visited. Tito had chosen this spot for her so she would always be near the creatures she had loved so much. It was eleven months to the day since Lita’s death, and Felix hadn’t needed to ask to know how Tito wanted to spend their morning together.
“La echo de menos, hijito,” Tito whispered. “I miss her so much.”
“Yo también.” Felix draped his arm across Tito’s thin shoulders, and Tito rested his palm on Felix’s knee. Silence wrapped around them, broken only by birdsong and the rustling of leaves.
“Thank you for this,” Tito said after a while. “And please thank Jo for me for giving us some time alone today.”
“Oh, well…” Felix hesitated, staring out over the water. “We’re not seeing each other right now.”
“What? Felix, what happened?” He shook Felix’s leg. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s not important right now. It’s Lita’s day.”
“Of course it’s important. Your lita wants you to be happy, just like I do. She won’t mind if we talk about it.” He turned toward Lita’s headstone. “¿Verdad, mi vida?”
Felix smiled fondly.
Tito looked back at him. “She doesn’t mind. What happened with Jo?”
He shifted uncomfortably. What could he say that wouldn’t violate Jo’s privacy? He loved Tito, but the man wasn’t exactly tactful. As long as Jo worked at White Hills, he needed to watch what he said. He finally settled on, “We took some time apart to decide if we really want to be together. Things were moving fast. Too fast, and she just got out of a relationship.”
“What’s wrong with fast?”
Felix gave his grandfather a wry grin. “Says the man who took one look at Lita and told his friends he was going to marry her.”
Tito’s eyes took on a dreamy, faraway look as he gazed toward the pond. In Spanish, he said, “She was so beautiful, my María Isabel. I didn’t even know her name. I just saw her smile and knew I wanted to be the one to make her smile for the rest of her life.”
Felix replied in Spanish. “Except it doesn’t work like that for everyone. You two got lucky.”
“Lucky?” Tito shook his head. “Luck had nothing to do with it, besides putting us in the same plaza on the same afternoon. Luck didn’t make me go talk to her. Luck didn’t force her to agree to dinner with me. Luck didn’t make us get married or bring us to America or bless us with your father. Those were choices we made for each other, Felix. To work hard and give one another the best life we could.” He broke into a smile, his wrinkles deepening, and his eyes narrowing into slits. “You want to know a secret, hijito?”
