Hearts on Air
Page 81
Trev blew out a slow breath. “Don’t hate me.”
Now I became even more apprehensive. “Why would I hate you?”
He flicked his gaze to mine, both determination and apology all in one. I huffed a loud, panicked breath and folded my arms across my chest. We’d been having the most wonderful morning. Why would he try to ruin it like this?
“I’m sacrificing myself for the greater good.”
“This is not the greater good, Trev. I know you think it is, but it isn’t. I want to go back to the apartment.”
“Just hear me out.”
I barked a hysterical laugh. “What reasoning could you possibly make? You’re driving me to my aunt’s house. It’s the middle of July. You know my entire family is going to be there.”
At once I regretted all those hours I’d spent telling him about my summers in Madrid. He knew every detail, from the names of my cousins to my aunt’s address and the church where we attended mass on Sundays.
I felt my throat constrict when Trev blurted, “An email isn’t enough.”
I glared at him. “What are you talking about?”
“You said you sent your sister an email but she never responded. Emails are too easy to ignore. She needs to see you in person. She needs to know you’re a real, living, breathing human who feels pain, because otherwise she’ll never reach out. It’s like a sniper, or someone controlling a remotely operated drone. It’s easy not to feel bad about the people you’re killing, because you’re miles, if not whole countries away. The distance creates comfort. If your sister sees the pain in your eyes, if you tell her about all the hardship you’ve endured, then she’ll want to be in your life. And if she doesn’t, then she’s not worth the heartache anyway.”
I stared at him, because he’d obviously spent a lot of time thinking about this. I was touched, but I was also angry. He had no right to lay this on me, no right to interfere, to trap me.
By the time I looked back out the window, Trev had pulled to a stop on a suburban residential street. We were a couple of houses down from my aunt’s place. The familiar pink hibiscus bushes in the front garden made my chest ache.
“What are you expecting me to do here, Trev? They aren’t going to welcome me with open arms. If they see me, my parents will be furious.”
“I could give a fuck about your parents. As far as I’m concerned, they can go jump off the edge of a cliff. I want you to talk to your sister, and maybe your brother. Not the dick one who sold you out, but the other one. You don’t think I see it, Reya, but I do. I can see your heart bleeding for them. You want them in your life.”
“It’s not that easy,” I whispered as tears sprung to my eyes.
We sat in silence then. I stared at the house with its terracotta bricks, the sun beating down on the roof, and happy childhood memories flooded me. I couldn’t tell if I was angry at Trev for bringing me here, or grateful for the chance to see it again, because this place was a part of me. If it weren’t for him taking this risk, I might never have come back.
A long time went by as we just sat in the car, the air conditioning on full blast. Without thinking I brought my hand to the door handle and pushed it open. I stepped out into the midday heat and sweat instantly dotted my forehead. My hair was always somewhat untameable, but today the humidity made it impossibly curly.
Trev didn’t follow. Instead he stayed in the car and watched as I walked down the street. Glancing at the neighbouring houses, I was amazed at how little they’d changed. The last time I was here I was seventeen. That was almost a decade ago, but still, it felt like longer. It felt like another life. It was strange seeing it through the eyes of an adult. I’d changed. Grown older. But this place had remained the same.
Birds chirped and somebody’s dog barked from one of the gardens. I bent to breathe in the pleasant scent of a flower bush when I heard a shocked voice utter my name.
“Reya?”
I froze in place, then straightened back up and slowly turned around. My sister, Paula, stood in my aunt’s garden, a cup of coffee in hand. She stared at me, her expression full of shock. Neither one of us knew what to say, but finally I found my voice.
“Paula, I—”
“¿Qué carajos crees que estás haciendo aquí?”
My mother came barrelling out of the house like a hurricane. She was only a small woman, but right then she held all the fury of a sumo wrestler about to take down an opponent.
My sister turned to her. “Mamá, don’t.”
My mother didn’t even glance her way. Instead she came hurtling toward me, her features drawn in temper. In the distance, I heard a car door open and shut, then footsteps approach I was sure belonged to Trev. He didn’t come too close, but I sensed his presence near, watching out for me.
A man who lived in the house next to my aunt’s came outside to water his plants and my mother shot a disgruntled look his way. She switched to English. God forbid he understand what she said as she tore her estranged daughter a new one.
“Go now, before your father sees you. You’re not welcome here.”
I swallowed and stood firm, meeting her livid gaze. “I’m here to see Paula and Samuel.”
“Well, they don’t want to see you, so leave,” she spat, disdain dripping from every word. You’d swear I was some junkie who’d come knocking on her door looking for money for a fix.
I glanced at Paula, willing her to stick up for me, but she didn’t breathe a word.
For a second I wanted to wither away, roll up into a ball of pain and hurt and leave this place. But then I remembered how much she didn’t matter. I remembered what a flawed, fearful, awful person my mother was and I drew strength from that.
I was far from perfect, but I was a good person. I wasn’t a liar like she wanted to believe. I had nothing to hide, whereas her whole life revolved around hiding things, creating a falsely perfect façade for people to see.
I met her stare head on. “I’m not leaving until I talk to Paula. Alone.”
My mother’s eyes narrowed to slits and then she brought her attention to my sister. “Do you want to talk to her?”
There was a long, agonising pause as Paula bit her lip. Her face showed frustration, but also fear. In the end her eyes came to mine for a brief second, full of apology as she whispered, “No, I don’t.”
Now I became even more apprehensive. “Why would I hate you?”
He flicked his gaze to mine, both determination and apology all in one. I huffed a loud, panicked breath and folded my arms across my chest. We’d been having the most wonderful morning. Why would he try to ruin it like this?
“I’m sacrificing myself for the greater good.”
“This is not the greater good, Trev. I know you think it is, but it isn’t. I want to go back to the apartment.”
“Just hear me out.”
I barked a hysterical laugh. “What reasoning could you possibly make? You’re driving me to my aunt’s house. It’s the middle of July. You know my entire family is going to be there.”
At once I regretted all those hours I’d spent telling him about my summers in Madrid. He knew every detail, from the names of my cousins to my aunt’s address and the church where we attended mass on Sundays.
I felt my throat constrict when Trev blurted, “An email isn’t enough.”
I glared at him. “What are you talking about?”
“You said you sent your sister an email but she never responded. Emails are too easy to ignore. She needs to see you in person. She needs to know you’re a real, living, breathing human who feels pain, because otherwise she’ll never reach out. It’s like a sniper, or someone controlling a remotely operated drone. It’s easy not to feel bad about the people you’re killing, because you’re miles, if not whole countries away. The distance creates comfort. If your sister sees the pain in your eyes, if you tell her about all the hardship you’ve endured, then she’ll want to be in your life. And if she doesn’t, then she’s not worth the heartache anyway.”
I stared at him, because he’d obviously spent a lot of time thinking about this. I was touched, but I was also angry. He had no right to lay this on me, no right to interfere, to trap me.
By the time I looked back out the window, Trev had pulled to a stop on a suburban residential street. We were a couple of houses down from my aunt’s place. The familiar pink hibiscus bushes in the front garden made my chest ache.
“What are you expecting me to do here, Trev? They aren’t going to welcome me with open arms. If they see me, my parents will be furious.”
“I could give a fuck about your parents. As far as I’m concerned, they can go jump off the edge of a cliff. I want you to talk to your sister, and maybe your brother. Not the dick one who sold you out, but the other one. You don’t think I see it, Reya, but I do. I can see your heart bleeding for them. You want them in your life.”
“It’s not that easy,” I whispered as tears sprung to my eyes.
We sat in silence then. I stared at the house with its terracotta bricks, the sun beating down on the roof, and happy childhood memories flooded me. I couldn’t tell if I was angry at Trev for bringing me here, or grateful for the chance to see it again, because this place was a part of me. If it weren’t for him taking this risk, I might never have come back.
A long time went by as we just sat in the car, the air conditioning on full blast. Without thinking I brought my hand to the door handle and pushed it open. I stepped out into the midday heat and sweat instantly dotted my forehead. My hair was always somewhat untameable, but today the humidity made it impossibly curly.
Trev didn’t follow. Instead he stayed in the car and watched as I walked down the street. Glancing at the neighbouring houses, I was amazed at how little they’d changed. The last time I was here I was seventeen. That was almost a decade ago, but still, it felt like longer. It felt like another life. It was strange seeing it through the eyes of an adult. I’d changed. Grown older. But this place had remained the same.
Birds chirped and somebody’s dog barked from one of the gardens. I bent to breathe in the pleasant scent of a flower bush when I heard a shocked voice utter my name.
“Reya?”
I froze in place, then straightened back up and slowly turned around. My sister, Paula, stood in my aunt’s garden, a cup of coffee in hand. She stared at me, her expression full of shock. Neither one of us knew what to say, but finally I found my voice.
“Paula, I—”
“¿Qué carajos crees que estás haciendo aquí?”
My mother came barrelling out of the house like a hurricane. She was only a small woman, but right then she held all the fury of a sumo wrestler about to take down an opponent.
My sister turned to her. “Mamá, don’t.”
My mother didn’t even glance her way. Instead she came hurtling toward me, her features drawn in temper. In the distance, I heard a car door open and shut, then footsteps approach I was sure belonged to Trev. He didn’t come too close, but I sensed his presence near, watching out for me.
A man who lived in the house next to my aunt’s came outside to water his plants and my mother shot a disgruntled look his way. She switched to English. God forbid he understand what she said as she tore her estranged daughter a new one.
“Go now, before your father sees you. You’re not welcome here.”
I swallowed and stood firm, meeting her livid gaze. “I’m here to see Paula and Samuel.”
“Well, they don’t want to see you, so leave,” she spat, disdain dripping from every word. You’d swear I was some junkie who’d come knocking on her door looking for money for a fix.
I glanced at Paula, willing her to stick up for me, but she didn’t breathe a word.
For a second I wanted to wither away, roll up into a ball of pain and hurt and leave this place. But then I remembered how much she didn’t matter. I remembered what a flawed, fearful, awful person my mother was and I drew strength from that.
I was far from perfect, but I was a good person. I wasn’t a liar like she wanted to believe. I had nothing to hide, whereas her whole life revolved around hiding things, creating a falsely perfect façade for people to see.
I met her stare head on. “I’m not leaving until I talk to Paula. Alone.”
My mother’s eyes narrowed to slits and then she brought her attention to my sister. “Do you want to talk to her?”
There was a long, agonising pause as Paula bit her lip. Her face showed frustration, but also fear. In the end her eyes came to mine for a brief second, full of apology as she whispered, “No, I don’t.”
