After the Rain (22 page)

“Yeah, like me.”

“Are you a good man, Dr. Meyers? I mean, to your girl?”

My jaw tightened. “I want to be, Noah.”

“Cool.”

“Cool,” I said back and then put my fist out to give him a fist bump.

I walked casually out of Noah’s hospital room and then ran full speed down the hallway to my office and booked a flight to Spain.

CHAPTER 23

Not My Home

Avelina

M
y mother hadn’t changed in five years. She was as beautiful as always except her hair was a lighter hue from the strands of gray running through it. I had heard her voice often on the phone, reminding me in Spanish to pray for Jake’s salvation over and over. The fact that my mother believed Jake was in some burning hell because he took his own life didn’t make conversation with her easy.

She picked me up from the airport in Barcelona and drove me to her small apartment. It seemed that time had healed her and the grief she’d worn like a cloak was gone. Once inside, she showed me to a guest room. When I sat down on the bed she sat next to me and pulled me into her arms. In Spanish, she told me how full her heart felt because I was there. She said I was stronger than she was. I told her how she seemed better and she agreed. She credited prayer and time for the healing of her heart and soul. I asked her about her grief, which I had never done.

In Spanish I asked, “Does it ever go away?”

“No,” she replied. “I still hear your father’s laugh like he’s
in the other room. There will always be something a little off, but like a three-legged dog, you’ll learn to walk again. Soon you’ll be running as if nothing is missing.”

Her sincerity felt so warm and true. I’d missed my mother. “I needed you,” I told her.

“I was always here. I just wasn’t well for a long time.”

“What’s changed?”

“Carlos.”

In my mind, I heard the screeching of a needle being jerked across a record. “Excuse me?”

“I met a man, Ava, and I’m in love. He’s handsome and kind and perfect.”

I had several conflicting thoughts in that moment. The old-fashioned part of my brain thought,
How could she?
But then I saw the happiness in her eyes, something I hadn’t seen in many years, and thought,
How could she not?
She wasn’t dead.

“I’m happy for you, Mama.”

There was a rapid knock at the front door. Like a giddy thirteen-year-old, my mother jumped up and ran out of the room. In walked a clone of Javier Bardem.

“Oh my god,” I said a little too loudly in English.

“Carlos, come meet my beautiful Avelina,” my mother announced.

He kissed my hand and practically bowed. “As beautiful as your mother,” he said, winking.

“Avelina, Carlos has a daughter your age.”

“Yes, Sabina lives in this building on the second floor. That’s how your mother and I met,” Carlos said in broken English.

“Shall we have Carlos call Sabina to join us for dinner?” she asked, hesitantly.

“Um . . . actually, I’m completely exhausted. I think tonight I’d just like to rest.” I didn’t wait for her to respond. I turned away and stumbled toward the hallway. Just before I left the room, I looked up to see Carlos wearing a sympathetic smile. I returned it kindly and then entered the guest room and plopped down on the bed. My mother came in a few moments later. “You don’t need to find me friends, Mama,” I said but I think my frustration actually came from how confused I was about her new life and the new man in it.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I just want you to enjoy yourself while you’re here. Sabina can show you around. She’s a lot of fun and a smart girl.” Her expression was genuine, and I realized I should be grateful to her for trying to help me. I just needed to figure out how or if I would fit in there.

“Can you give me a few days, Mama? This is all a lot for me to take in.”

Finally, something in her broke away. She came over to me and wrapped me up in her arms. “I know you will figure out what to do
, belleza
, just like I did.”

“You think so?”

She nodded. “I know so,” she said, and then she kissed my forehead and left the room.

Almost a week later, I finally agreed to meet Sabina, Carlos’s daughter. I figured meeting without our parents present was best even though I had warmed up to Carlos over the couple of days I was there. My mother seemed like a new person and Carlos was always gentlemanly and polite toward me.

Sabina and I met at a café on a Friday afternoon. She was not what I expected at all. She was covered in tattoos,
smoked cigarettes nonstop, and said fuck for every other word. Frankly, it surprised me that my mother considered her a good influence. I, for one, loved Sabina’s uniqueness and envied how self-assured she was. She spoke almost perfect English and told me how most people our age in Spain went out to clubs and got drunk and danced and had casual sex. I felt like an inexperienced extraterrestrial.

“So I want to take you to El Sol. We’ll dance the night away, but we have to find you something to wear first. You dress like a twelve-year-old.”

I looked down at my oversized cable-knit sweater and jeans and laughed. She was right. Sabina took me to her apartment and gave me an armful of dresses to take back to my mom’s and try on.

“I’ll come get you at eleven,” she said as I walked toward the door.

“Huh? Like, eleven p.m.? I’m usually in bed by then.”

“The clubs don’t even go off until after twelve.”

I was shocked.

At my mom’s place, I tried on all the dresses, most of which barely hit me mid-thigh. I chose one of the more decent black dresses. It was made of a tight, stretchy material that showed off a lot of leg but it had a turtleneck top and long sleeves. It was the most conservative dress in the lot.

While I was curling my hair, my mother came into the bedroom and sat down on the bed without uttering a word.

“I’m surprised you’re okay with me hanging out with Sabina. She’s got a crazy streak.”

My mother spoke something in Spanish under her breath.

“What’s that, Mama?”

She stood and came up behind me. We were staring at
each other through the mirror. “Look at you,” she said in Spanish. “Look at yourself. A grown woman, but life has made you a child again. You don’t need my permission anymore, or my approval.”

I took what she was saying in the spirit it was intended instead of feeling offended. “I know. Sometimes I forget so much time has passed.”

While I finished getting ready, I told my mother all about Nate and the uncertainty I felt. She told me to wait and see what he would do. I really didn’t have another choice anyway. I could have gone back to his house and waited for him, but there were things I needed to know about him and myself, things that only distance could tell me. Would we just forget about each other and go on with our lives if we were a world apart? Would he go back to being a workaholic and would I go back to walking through life numb and alone? Sadly, there was something strangely comforting about the idea of that. The unknown is a scary place, and I had spent a lot of my courage trying to stay warm in the cab of his truck that night at the hospital.

Sabina arrived promptly at eleven. In the short time since I had seen her that morning, she had bleached her hair to a platinum blond. Her eyebrows were still dark and her lips were a true blood red. She looked stunning in a shimmery metallic dress and four-inch stiletto heels.

“You look amazing!” I said, eyes wide.

“You’re not so bad yourself, sissy.”

“I can’t believe you bleached your hair. You’re so brave.”

“Thanks but it’s just hair.” She shrugged. “Some people don’t have any.”

We took a taxi to the club. Sabina dragged me through the long line to the entrance. She looked up at the giant
bouncer and batted her eyelashes. “Well,” she said in English, “what are you waiting for, you big oaf? Open the door.”

He shook his head but opened the giant red metal door. “Wow, did you know that guy?” I asked.

“My papa owns this place, along with half the other clubs in Barcelona.” I was shocked once again that my mother was dating a club owner.

Sabina was confident and demanding but she was also really caring. She wanted me to have fun.

“You’re going to have the time of your life, I promise you,” she yelled back as we pushed our way forward. I followed as she moved quickly through the crowd and up a short stairwell to an exclusive VIP section. The booths were high-backed red velvet with gold inlaid swirls of fabric. She yelled to a waiter in Spanish to bring the best bottle of champagne. Soon people gathered around the booth, some of whom were Sabina’s friends. She insisted to everyone that her American friend needed to have the best time.

It wasn’t long before a handsome Spaniard pulled me onto the dance floor. I spent song after song dancing my heart out, but I still wasn’t able to get rid of my thoughts of Nate. Eventually the beats of the music started to run together, my muscles relaxed, and I was finally able to let go. Sabina and all of her friends danced around in a circle with each other. It seemed like all of the bodies were in fluid motion together, moving as one.

I got lost in the freedom I was feeling. It reminded me of racing with Dancer through the fields.

It seemed like there were really no answers to the questions I had about where my life was going. I just knew that my desire to live and transcend Jake’s tragedy had become
strong. Regardless of what I had been told, I knew deep down in my heart that Jake would not be judged for the brevity of his life, or for the way he ended it. I believed that to be a truth, and my faith in that truth was enough for me to go on.

Sometimes love can be easier to find than purpose, but I don’t think it’s any less important. I had made Jake my purpose, which was a mistake. I was beginning to realize everyone needs a reason to go on apart from one another. Nate had his job and I knew that was his purpose, his lifeblood. I thought I had mine with the horses, but it wasn’t enough. As I bounced up and down on the dance floor, staring across the circle at Sabina, who seemed to do everything with reckless abandon, I wondered how people viewed me. Probably as a sulking, sad, grief-stricken, tortured soul, the way I remembered my mother after my father died. I wanted to change that, find my purpose, hold on to love, and truly live my life, but I needed the courage I had lost along the way.

I realized I had gone to Spain not because I didn’t think it would work with Nate or because I couldn’t get out from under the massive amount of grief I felt after Jake’s loss. I went to Spain to remember what my own voice sounded like before I got swept away listening to someone else’s. Determined to redefine my life with so much ahead of me, I didn’t want Jake’s life, Jake’s accident, Jake’s horrible, tragic, and pitiful death, to define me anymore. I went to Spain to find myself, and the first place I looked was the bumping dance floor of an after-hours club.

Less than twenty minutes later at least one of my questions was answered.

“I’m getting tired!” I yelled to Sabina.

“Okay, girlie. Let’s head home.” Sabina grabbed my hand
and held it. Just before we reached the top of the stairs, she put her arm around me and pulled me close. She kissed me on the cheek. “I feel like we’re sisters separated at birth.”

I felt like Sabina was one of the most genuine girls I had ever met. Unable to form bonds with girls in school always made me feel like such an outsider, but Sabina had the kind of personality that just pulled you in and made you feel comfortable. Maybe that’s why my mom wanted us to spend time together.

Only one step down, Sabina’s giant stiletto got caught on the lip of the stair and she went tumbling down. I tried to grab her at the last second but she was out of my reach. The stairs were steep and metal, and as I watched her fall I hoped she would avoid hitting her head. She grabbed the railing and righted herself about halfway down but I could see a huge gash on her leg. I rushed down to her.

“Oh my god, are you okay?!”

Her eyes squeezed shut very tight but tears still broke from the corners. She cursed quietly under her breath in Spanish. If I didn’t have my ear so close to her face I never would have heard it. It was too dark in the club to actually see how badly she was injured.

“Are you okay?”

“No, my ankle. I think it’s broken.” There was also a fair amount of blood streaming down her calf.

“Here, let’s get you down the stairs.”

“Where is my fucking father?” she yelled to one of the waiters. In Spanish, he told her that her father was at a different club.

“Ava, help me to my father’s office.”

When she stood up, she screamed, and I could see her ankle was very badly swollen. Her foot seemed to be hang
ing in a very precarious way that indicated there was most definitely a broken bone. She was in so much pain she could barely speak. I hitched her up on my hip and called to the waiter to find the bouncer. A giant burly man came running in and quickly swooped her up. We made our way to her father’s office, where I ordered the bouncer to call the paramedics. I found a first-aid kit in a cabinet drawer and began wrapping up her ankle as she leaned back in her father’s giant leather chair.

Pain etched her face and black mascara streaks ran down her cheeks.

“Hold on, Sabina, they’ll be here very soon. Hang tight.” I found a clean rag, wet it, and put it on her forehead.

When the paramedics arrived, Sabina wouldn’t let go of my hand. “Stay with me,” she kept saying in her lightly accented English.