Chương 15
Claire mocked him.
Teresa refused to respect the spreadsheet.
“What is eleven-thirty to one?”
“Brunch.”
“No one eats brunch on Christmas Eve.”
“We do now.”
“I am making tamales.”
“Then brunch has tamales.”
“That is lunch.”
“Fine. Lunch.”
“At eleven-thirty?”
Adrian rubbed his forehead.
Rafael watched from the sofa.
“You found him. Now suffer.”
By spring, almost a year after the wedding, public interest faded.
Other stories replaced theirs.
That relief felt strange.
For months they had wanted privacy.
When privacy returned, Teresa discovered that being forgotten publicly did not repair anything privately.
She and Adrian still had difficult days.
He missed calls.
She took it personally.
She asked too many questions.
He withdrew.
He once canceled dinner because of work and Teresa said, “Of course. You have another family.”
The second the words left her mouth, she wanted them back.
Adrian went silent.
Rafael closed his eyes.
Teresa said, “I’m sorry.”
Adrian stood.
“No.”
“I did not mean—”
“You did.”
“I was angry.”
“That doesn’t make it less true.”
“It is not true.”
“You think I owe you time.”
She looked stricken.
“I think we lost time.”
“That’s not the same as me owing it back.”
He left.
Teresa did not call him for a week.
Not because she was proud.
Because Rafael stopped her every time she reached for the phone.
“You apologize once,” he said. “Then you let him decide.”
“He thinks I want to replace them.”
“Sometimes you do.”
Teresa looked at him sharply.
He continued.
“Not him. The years.”
She sat down.
“I cannot replace years.”
“No.”
“I know.”
“Knowing and behaving are different things.”
She hated him for ten minutes.
Then made coffee.
Adrian called on the eighth day.
Teresa answered.
“I’m sorry,” she said before hello.
“I know.”
“No. I need to say it correctly.”
He waited.
“I used what was taken from me to make you responsible for fixing it.”
Silence.
“That was wrong.”
Adrian exhaled.
“Thank you.”
“I am still mad you canceled.”
He laughed.
“I know.”
“You canceled twenty minutes before.”
“I know.”
“I had already cooked.”
“Teresa.”
“I am apologizing and complaining. Both can happen.”
He laughed harder.
“Okay.”
She smiled.
“When are you coming?”
“Sunday.”
“Good.”
That argument improved their relationship more than many peaceful dinners.
It taught Teresa that losing Adrian once did not mean every distance was abandonment.
It taught Adrian that boundaries did not automatically destroy connection.
It taught Rafael to leave the room when either of them started arguing because both accused him of taking sides.
The first anniversary of the wedding arrived quietly.
Claire and Adrian had never taken a honeymoon.
They had postponed it.
Then work intervened.
Then the case.
Then life.
Claire suggested they spend the anniversary alone.
Adrian agreed.
They drove north to a small coastal town where nobody recognized them.
Their hotel room overlooked gray water.
At dinner, Claire raised her glass.
“To the worst reception in American history.”
Adrian looked at her.
“That seems statistically unlikely.”
“I’m not researching it.”
“Good.”
They drank.
After dinner they walked along the water.
Claire took off her shoes and carried them.
Adrian kept his on.
“You know what I was thinking during our vows?” she asked.
“That you loved me.”
“No.”
He looked offended.
“I was thinking your tie was slightly crooked.”
“It was not.”
“It was.”
“You married me anyway.”
“I was brave.”
He groaned.
She laughed.
They walked farther.
Then Claire said, “Do you regret that Teresa came?”
He took time answering.
“I regret how.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I know.”
The water moved black beside them.
Finally he said, “No.”
Claire nodded.
“I don’t either.”
He looked at her.
“I hated her for a while.”
“I know.”
“I hated your mother more.”
“I know.”
“I hated you for about six minutes.”
“When?”
“When you told the police officer you wanted copies of everything before asking if I was okay.”
Adrian winced.
“That sounds fair.”
“It was not my finest six minutes either.”
They kept walking.
Claire nudged his shoulder.
“Still married tomorrow?”
He looked at her.
The question had changed over a year.
It no longer sounded frightened.
It sounded like theirs.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
On the same evening, Teresa found the green wedding dress at the back of her closet.
The dry cleaner had repaired the waist seam months earlier.
She had never worn it again.
Rafael was brushing his teeth.
She held the dress against herself in the mirror.
The scar remained beneath it.
She no longer hated the scar.
She did not love it either.
Bodies were not obligated to turn damage into symbols.
Sometimes scars were simply where a person had been cut.
Rafael came out of the bathroom.
“You wearing that?”
“No.”
“Then why are you holding it?”
“I found it.”
“You find many things in a closet when you open it.”
She looked at him in the mirror.
“You are very wise in old age.”
“I have always been wise.”
“You punched concrete because a doctor made you angry.”
“I was young.”
“You were thirty-seven.”
“Younger.”
She smiled.
Then folded the dress over her arm.
“What should I do with it?”
“Keep it.”
“Why?”
He shrugged.
“Throw it away.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is cloth, Teresa.”
She looked down at the repaired seam.
He was right.
Not everything needed meaning.
She hung it back in the closet.
Months later, Adrian came to the apartment carrying an envelope.
Teresa’s face tightened on sight.
“No more documents.”
“It’s not bad.”
“All documents are bad.”
“This one isn’t.”
Rafael took the envelope.
“What?”
Adrian smiled.
“Claire’s pregnant.”
Teresa sat down so abruptly that Adrian laughed.
Then stopped when he saw her face.
“You’re serious?”
“Yes.”
“How far?”
“Eleven weeks.”
“Is she okay?”
“Yes.”
“Doctor says everything is okay?”
“So far.”
“Why did you bring an envelope?”
“Ultrasound.”
Teresa covered her mouth.
Rafael opened the envelope.
He stared at the grainy image.
Then handed it to Teresa.
May you like
She took it with both hands.
For a long moment, nobody spoke.
