Andres has finally stopped calling, texting, and emailing me. I have yet to actually speak to him about any of it. I know that if I were to speak to him at this moment and if he still wanted me, I would break, losing all resolve that I have desperately tried to hold on to. Then, I would only have to go through this all again when he leaves me, which I know he eventually would.
I have written him a handful of emails, trying to explain the reasoning behind my choices, only to delete them before I hit Send. I feel like an evil person. I know I am horrible. If the roles were reversed, I know it would have been even more painful for me if he had refused to speak to me about it. I am a cruel, heartless, weak person by not giving Andres closure, but I can’t. He deserves it, but I’m not strong enough.
Nadia calls and texts, and although she is trying to keep our friendship separate from my relationship with Andres, she has let me know how crushed he is. This further adds to my guilt because I have Nolan to fill the void in my heart. I wonder who Andres has to help him through this transition.
My thoughts recall Andres crying in the shower after the incident with his father and me. I think about Andres’s pain over the loss of his parents and all the promises I made to him. I am a disgusting human being. Not only did I not keep my promises, but I also added to his pain with my self-centered actions. I know I need to own up to my mistakes and talk to Andres. Although I dig deep, I can’t find the courage to do so.
In the past, if I had issues in my life where I needed guidance, Nolan would be there to walk me through it. I can’t go to him with this.
No way.
How selfish and inconsiderate would that be?
I created this awful mess, and I have to deal with it, regardless of how difficult it is for me.
Nolan has been great, of course. He is kind, loving, warm, and funny. At times, I actually do forget the mess I have made, and I am happy. It’s not every-cell-in-my-body-bursting-with-ecstasy happy, like I was in Spain, but I’m happy. Our relationship is, in essence, exactly like it has been for the past three years, but now, it’s more physical. The chemistry that Nolan and I have is incredible. Maybe the connection is not as heavenly as it was with Andres, but it’s definitely close to paradise. If I have to live in near paradise for the rest of my life, then I am a lucky girl. All the comforting familiarity is there with Nolan. It is the effortlessness of it that is so soothing to my soul. I don’t need to work to be content around Nolan or work to make him happy. We have always fit so well together, and it simply works. I can simply
be
, and that is my saving grace. If I had to work at anything more in my life at the moment, I would crack. Like always, Nolan is the glue holding me together.
The Wednesday before Thanksgiving—also known as the biggest bar night of the year—rolls around. I shove my laundry into baskets to lug home over the long weekend. It takes so much time and effort to haul a month’s worth of laundry to and from my parents’ house. In reality, it would probably cost me five dollars to do it at the local Laundromat, but the idea of actually spending my money at the Laundromat when I can use my parents’ machines for free doesn’t sit well. So, I carry another basketful of clothes to my car, steadying myself down our wobbly wooden staircase leading from our back porch.
Coming back into the house for another load, I stop to sit next to Cara. She is sitting on the couch, legs pulled against her chest, as she watches some stupid reality show about what appears to be—I don’t know…rich duck hunters? If she didn’t have such a scowl on her face, I would have taken this opportunity to tease her about wasting so much time watching complete crap.
Duck hunters? How is that even a show?
She is the queen of wasting time watching reality shows.
Anyway, since I caused Cara’s bad mood, I need to cheer her up before I leave. She is upset that I am heading home early and skipping out on our annual night-before-Thanksgiving party fest. Nolan flew home to Miami last night, and to be honest, the last thing I want to do at the moment is to get all fancied up and go out. I am looking forward to spending time with my parents and brother—all of whom are far removed from the mess I created in my life. I want a few days where I don’t have to think about any of it.
“I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad.” Frankly, I am surprised she wasn’t able to sway my decision. I have never been able to say no to her.
“I’m not. I know the past few months have been a whirlwind for you. I thought it would be fun to go out together, but I totally get why you want to go home and chill with your family for a few days. I wish you could leave tomorrow morning, like always.”
“I know. I’m sorry to bail. I really don’t feel like it tonight. Thanks for understanding.”
“Maybe you should call him this weekend to get some closure? You know, you went from super anxious and freaked-out about everything he was doing over there—which I was definitely not a fan of—to being in limbo, not fully committing to anyone or fully letting yourself be happy. I don’t know which one is worse. At least when you were freaking out daily, you were showing some emotion. Maybe if you spoke to him, you would feel better.” She sighs, leaning her head down to mine.
“I’m not in limbo, Cara. I made my choice. I chose Nolan.”
“I know you, Liv. You might be able to convince Nolan of your happiness—and I doubt that because he knows you almost as well as I do—but you are definitely not fooling me. I know that you are still troubled over your disconcerting love triangle. The smile that you plaster on your face every day isn’t fooling anyone. You need to let Andres go, and maybe talking to him would help you do that.”
“I can’t, Cara. I’m sorry. It takes time to get over someone you love. I just need a little more time, and I will be completely back to myself.” I don’t know who I am trying to convince more—her or me.
I pull up to the country-blue farmhouse with the big red barn, and I see my mom racing out of the house. She’s waving her hands with a wide smile that could light up a dark night. She loves when I come home, and considering I go to school an hour and a half away from my parents’ home, it’s not very often.
“Livi, baby!” she squeals as she pulls me into a bear hug. “I’m so glad you could make it home tonight.” She holds my face between her hands, plopping kisses onto each cheek. “Now, you can help me make all the pies for tomorrow while you tell me what is bothering that pretty little head of yours.”
My mother has always been able to read me like a book, and apparently, my smile isn’t fooling her either.
I walk into my parents’ house to see my brother and Dad sitting on the couch, watching ESPN. I honestly don’t care to even register what sport they are watching. Despite my three years on the varsity volleyball team, I have never been a fan of sports. I have a natural athletic ability, or so I am told, but I’ve never enjoyed competing. It has always brought such a state of anxiety to me. The simple act of watching sports brings back the sense of unease that always went hand in hand with competing. I was continually fearful that I would mess up and let others down. It wasn’t worth it, and senior year, I finally had enough courage to quit it all, much to my parents’ disappointment.
“Hey, Daddy,” I say as I bend to give my dad a kiss on the head.
He is a quiet man. We have never had deep conversations, like I do with my mom, but he is a good dad. He works hard, provides for his family, and has always been there when I needed him.
My dad opens his mouth to say some socially required pleasantry that one would say to his daughter who he hasn’t seen in a while—like
you look great
,
great to see you
, or perhaps
welcome home
—but before he can get anything out, Max has me in a bear hug.
Max is lifting me off my feet as I squeal. “Baby sister!”
I giggle as he twirls me in typical Max fashion.
Max is tall and well built with dark skin and dark eyes. I’m told he is insanely gorgeous. Growing up, all my friends always had a big crush on him. I don’t know much about Max’s biological parents, but it is evident he came from a good gene pool. Max is loud, fun, and confident to the point of being cocky. He had a football scholarship to the University of Notre Dame. He was slightly disappointed at the time since he has always been the biggest University of Michigan fan. Since college, he has been
finding himself
, which has consisted of a lot of traveling, partying with friends, and trying out new and exciting careers. He is currently residing in L.A., where he and a college buddy have been dabbling in producing music.
I’m sure it won’t take off, just as none of his other ambitious ideas have, but who am I to judge?
Squeezing me tight once more and setting me down, he asks, “How is that sexy piece of ass doing? Has she come to her senses yet?”
He is referring to Cara, the only friend of mine he has ever been interested in and the only one who won’t give him the time of day.
“Maybe if you didn’t refer to her as a piece of ass, she might be interested. Seriously, Max, you need to learn how to speak about women. Real women don’t want to be referred to as a piece of anything, especially ass.” I roll my eyes.
“I don’t know. I haven’t had any problems with that term of endearment with other hotties.”
“Well, I’m not sure what skanky STD-contaminated girls you have been hanging out with, but I can tell you that Cara is not going to be one of them.”
“Hey,” Max responds in a mock offended tone. “My hotties are STD-free. I’m not down with that dirty shit.”
“Language!” Mom calls in a singsong voice from the kitchen.
“Mom,
shit
is not even a real cuss word. Seriously, you should hear the shit people say out there now. It’s not 1960 anymore,” Max calls back.
I grab my belly and double over in laughter. I love my brother. It is impossible not to be happy in his presence. Regaining my composure, I continue speaking to Max, “You should visit us! You haven’t seen us since before I left for Spain. I think that is the longest you have gone without visiting.”
“Yeah, I should. I’ve been busy with Tony in L.A., but maybe I will stick around here until Christmas. I’m sure I could make it up there between now and then. I haven’t tried to get in Cara’s pants in a while. Maybe I will break her down this time,” he says with a wink.
“First of all, you won’t.” Using my fingers, I air quote as I say, “She’s just not that into you.” Laughing, I continue, “Second of all, ew…Mom and Dad can hear you talk like that. Have some decency. Gross.”
“Not listening!” Mom joyfully calls from the kitchen.
Max and I both break out in laughter.
I have always taken for granted how much work is involved in making a homemade, melt-in-your-mouth Thanksgiving feast. My mom is a great cook and makes most things from scratch—on top of working as a full-time nurse. Holding the metal whisk, I whip the egg whites. I switch hands when I think my other hand is going to fall off from sheer pain and cramping. The egg whites will turn into meringue for the lemon meringue pie, which my mom makes every year because it is my grandma’s favorite.
Trying to focus on our conversation instead of my cramping hand, I get my mom up to speed on everything, including the Andres-and-Nolan fiasco. I have largely kept her out of the loop about that because I don’t really understand it all myself. It is unlike me to keep things from her, but she doesn’t seem hurt or mad as she listens to me ramble on.
She sprinkles seasoning onto the bread that she is going to toast to make the stuffing. “Livi, love, I’m not going to give you an earful of advice. When it comes to matters of the heart, sometimes, you just have to figure it out for yourself. No one can tell you what the right answer is. You know we love Nolan, and we would be delighted if you ended up with him. I don’t know Andres, but I am sure he is wonderful as well if he captured your attention. You have to go with your heart on this one, honey. But what I won’t accept is you selling yourself short. I don’t understand. If you were so in love, why would you break it off solely on the possibility that it might not work out in the end? There are no guarantees in life, Liv, but if it isn’t worth fighting for, it isn’t worth having. Would Andres have broken up with you at some point in the future? Who knows? Maybe. But would the possibility of losing him be worth the chance to spend forever with him if he never ended it? I don’t know. You tell me.” She places the pies from the counter into the oven and wipes her hands on her apron before turning to me. “What does your heart tell you, honey?”
“I don’t know. I love them both. I know that sounds wrong, but I do. Is that even possible?”
“Sure it is! I think that you can love more than one person at the same time. Which one can’t you live without? That is the million-dollar question,” she says with a warm smile.
“I don’t know, Mom. I honestly don’t,” I say softly as tears threaten to spill.
Pulling me into a hug, she says, “You will figure it out, honey. Just give it time.”
I hug her tightly, relaxing into her warmth. The scent of my mom—a mix of lavender, soap, and sugar—comforts me. The combination takes me back to being a little girl and the love I felt as I snuggled up with my mom while reading a book on the couch.
Pulling back, I ask, “What if I choose Andres, but it is too late, and he doesn’t want me anymore? I could lose Nolan forever, and then I will have lost them both.”
“Liv, no one ever said love was easy. You need to decide if losing Nolan is worth the risk of having Andres.” She lets out a small chuckle. “Goodness, honey, you could end up with someone other than either of them. You are young. You could have several more heartbreaks until you find the one. Follow your heart, love, and enjoy the ride.”
“Maybe you were right all along. I am a messed-up person. I can’t believe I let it come to this. I should probably go back to therapy,” I say with a tone of resignation in my voice.
“Olivia!” my mom exclaims with exasperation in her voice. “I have never, ever said or thought that you were a messed-up person. You are a beautiful person, inside and out, and it saddens me that you don’t see that.” She lifts her hand and gently twirls a lock of my hair before releasing it.