Page 62 of Matched

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Tony

Coronado, being so close to San Diego, has been amazing. I haven’t had carne asada fries in so long and they have the best ones. This is one of my first off days, and I’m heading toward my old stomping grounds, but instead of looking forward to some delicious food, my hands are clammy and my heart is racing.

I’d spent most of last night running through my big blowup with Inara for the millionth time. How had I let things get so far off track that I’d panicked and walked away? Had I made the biggest mistake of my life? The angry texts I kept getting from Taya and Marge, saying exactly that, didn’t help. So, when my dad texted during an especially dark moment, I caved and told him I was in town. Of course he asked if I’d meet him for a meal, and I agreed.

And just like the time I signed up for the marriage-matching program, when the dust settled, I once again regret my actions. But it’s too late. Even I’m not a big enough of an asshole to cancel on my dad this late in the game. Although, Inara might disagree.

I wince. It’s unbelievably pathetic, my inability to go more than fifteen minutes without thinking of her. When I spot my dad waiting for me outside his car in the Coronado Visitor Center parking lot, I’m almost happy for the distraction.

He spots me and his eyes shrink to near nothing because of how wide his smile is. I don’t contain my grin either, as complicated as it is to see him. A warmth spreads over my chest. He has not changed one bit, except for maybe leaned out from all the Zumba, but his eyes are still his eyes and his smile is still his smile.

“It’s been too long.” He pulls me in for a hug and I let myself fall into him, or onto him, given how much bigger I am.

“It’s good to see you.” I give him three strong pats on the back causing short breaths to leave his lungs. I didn’t intend for them to be that hard.

He steps back and looks me up and down. “You look different. Good, but different.”

“Thank you.” My voice sounds so formal and I wish it wouldn’t. But I can’t shake the nervousness nor the anxiety I have pushed aside for a few years too many.

“Why don’t we head over to Roberto’s?”

I nod and step around him to get into the car. I haven’t had their surf-and-turf burrito in years, but the idea of going there makes me salivate. “Let’s go.”

We cross the bridge, the city coming into view about forty minutes later, and I can’t help but feel nostalgic having my dad drive me somewhere. It’s both pleasant and painful, if that’s even possible. We drive over to the tiny taco shop with the mosaic-tile tables and gaudy umbrellas. We can only sit outside, but I don’t mind, even with the chill in the air. And the noise of the passing traffic drowns out other customers. We order our food and sit and wait for them to call out our names. This is an unrecognized gem in Oceanside, but the food is five-star.

“How long has it been since you’ve been here?”

I groan. “Too long.”

There is a moment of silence between us before mi apá clears his throat. “So, I think it’s time we talked about the fundraiser.”

I recoil, every muscle in my body going rigid. The fundraiser is an extra-loaded subject now, since it’s a big part of the reason Inara and I broke up. “Do we have to do this now?”

He takes in a slow, deep breath while momentarily closing his eyes. “Yes, I think we do. Talk to me, mi hijo. Just tell me what you’re thinking.”

Like it’s just that easy. Talking, and about this subject.

He glances over at me. “Come on. Give it a try. Good or bad, tell me what you’re thinking.”

I try one of those breathing things Inara always does. Count my inhales. Count my exhales. To my surprise, the vise gripping my throat loosens up a little and words start to pour out. “I want to help you. I want to be a part of it. But I don’t know if I can relive all of that. Talking about Mamá is hard enough. Putting on a fundraiser in her honor will bring it all back and make it all so much more... unfair.” I am staring at my hands to avoid looking my father in the eyes. I feel like a failure somehow, and I hate it.

“I know, and it was unfair, it really was.” He exhales after a few seconds and continues. “But I want you to know, as much as I understand, I only push you because I think it will be good for you. Raising money, it has been a highlight for me. And it has helped me connect more with your mother.” He taps his chest over where his heart lies.

I have not felt my mother, or her memories, in years. I clear my throat and meet my father’s gaze. “But doesn’t it hurt to carry that all, every day?”

“Some days more than others, but mostly, it feels healing,” he says.

The men at the counter call our names and we stand and walk over to pick up our burritos and chips. We bring them back to the table and start opening the tiny half-ounce containers of salsa.

“It’s your decision, son, but one thing I know for sure. You can’t avoid the pain that life comes with.” He lets the words hang in the air a beat before he spares me from having to respond. “Now, tell me what I really want to know. How is Inara? How are you two?”

Damn.I didn’t even think about this. I was so worried about one difficult conversation, I didn’t prepare for the other topic that was likely to come up—my fake wife-turned-lover-turned-not-wife.

“Things aren’t good, Apá. Not at all. I wasn’t very honest with you about that relationship.” I pour green salsa all over my burrito and take a big bite before I continue. “What exactly did Inara tell you?”

“Not much. Just that you kind of rushed into things,” he says. “Like you got married pretty quickly after meeting. From what she said, I’ve been imagining love at first sight.”

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