Page 63 of Matched

I chew slowly and contemplate how much I want to tell him. As I swallow, then stuff a chip into my mouth to buy more time, I know I am tired of secrets and avoidance. I just want to be honest. “Well, the rushing into things is true enough. But we didn’t exactly fall in love spontaneously. We were assigned to each other. The military has a spouse-matching program they created.” His eyebrows furrow together at that, but I go on explaining. “Basically, it was like a blind date. We both took personality tests, had numerous interviews with a committee, and were eventually paired up.”

His eyes open wider and he takes a bite of his burrito, just like I did to buy time. “Well, then, you two must be a good match.”

“I thought we were, but our relationship is over. We got into a fight and I said some harsh things. The program director overheard. He cut me out of the program.” I take a few more bites and savor the shrimp and beef combining in my mouth.

“That’s rough. And now you’re all the way out here.”

Part of being away has been good. But the past few days, I find myself wishing I was home, trying to work through this with Inara. Coming to training, even if it’s required of me, was running away. My shoulders slump forward and I wince when once again, I relive the words I’d flung at her in the heat of the moment. Things that, even in the midst of my anger and pain, were grossly unfair. “Yeah, it was very sudden. But fight or not, it’s part of my life. They also rejected my Officer Candidate School application because of it all. Everything I have worked for, gone.”

My dad sets his burrito down and reaches across the table to squeeze my shoulder. “I am so sorry that so much went wrong so fast. What happened, if you don’t mind an old man asking? What did you fight about?”

I clear my throat and look down at my plate. “You, actually. The way she talked to you on the phone and helped organize the fundraiser, behind my back.”

My dad’s eyebrows lift. “Really?”

My neck heats up. I want to escape this terrible conversation, but we’re here now, and I’m trying to be honest about my feelings. Might as well see this through. “Yes, really. When she told me about your conversation, I don’t know, I just saw red.”

My dad takes a sip of water, the knowing quirk of his lips that used to drive me nuts when I was younger setting in as he returns his glass to the table. “And why do you think that is?”

I stifle a groan. “Because I was mad she’d pushed past my boundaries and tried to worm her way into my extended family against my wishes?”

He reaches down to pick up his burrito. “Or maybe you were scared.”

I scoff. “Scared? Why would I be scared?”

Apáswallows a bite and pats his mouth with a napkin, before shrugging. “Maybe you’re worried to take a chance again? After your mamá died. You might have been away from home for some time, but I know you. I know your heart and your eyes.” He goes back to his burrito. “What I see in your eyes is love, mi hijo. And if you love her, you would want her to be part of your family. Unless you’re afraid of something. Like maybe, afraid that she won’t always be there.”

I stare at my food, tearing bits of tortilla away with my fingers. That’s so stupid. He is right about one thing. I have been away for a long time. But he doesn’t know me. Not anymore.

And yet, the gaping hole that took up residence in my chest after I moved away from my family has grown a thousand times larger since I left my home with Inara. There’s also all the times throughout a given day that I light up when I think of something funny to tell her, only to deflate that we’re no longer together. I miss everything about her, so much that it’s a physical pain. Her scent. The silky texture of her skin. The husky sound of her voice when she comes undone in my arms.

Guess my dad is right about two things, because I do love Inara. Which means, maybe he’s right about the other part too. I bite into my cheek as I recall our fight and how earlier that day, I’d sought her out for reassurance and taken comfort in her smile, only to become uneasy immediately afterward. Was my underlying worry about growing dependent on Inara because I couldn’t rely on her to stick around, making me all the more vulnerable to falling apart if she left?

Guess the joke is on me. Turns out, I pulled that switch way too late to save my world from imploding. “You’re right, I do love her. And I don’t know what to do. I’m thirty-five and this is practically the first real relationship I’ve been in. Not to mention how right it feels. That’s not scary, it’s downright terrifying.” I take a few gulps of my horchata since I’ve mangled my tortilla to the point it’s beyond repair.

“That is how I felt with your mother too, Tony. An overwhelming sense of rightness, but also fear, because it was new in so many ways. If you love Inara, you need to fight for her, and be honest with her. And whatever you did, you make it right.”

“But, Apá”—I pause and my heartbeat speeds up—“what if I do all that and then... something happens to her? Like what happened to Mamá. I don’t know if I can go through that again with someone else in my life.” I fidget with a chip, breaking it into tiny bits.

All this time I’ve been afraid of what it would mean to really love someone. I was afraid of giving someone the opportunity to break my heart again by leaving. That’s why I got so overprotective on the phone about search and rescue. It brought up the very real possibility that someone I loved could be taken from me again.

“Tony, I know losing your mother so young was difficult for you. You suffered and it changed your entire life. But you cannot live in fear. You cannot make choices with the idea that terrible things can happen at any time.” My father leans in and puts his arm on my shoulder again, giving me a tight squeeze. “What I had with your mother, it was the most magical thing I had ever experienced. It was a love that I will cherish for the rest of my days. I do not regret any part of that relationship.”

I look into his eyes and ask the one question I need my father to answer wholeheartedly. “What about now, knowing all that you know? Would you do it all over again?”

“Absolutely,” he says without a moment’s hesitation. “She was a beautiful person, inside and out. And she brought me so much joy, including my five magnificent children. She was a wonderful wife and mother. I don’t regret any of it. I would do every single day again, even knowing the hard days were coming.”

My eyes start to sting and I’m overcome with a longing to have my mother here. To see her again. And even as my chest aches in this longing, it’s the closest I have been to her. And when my gaze connects with Apá’s again, all the same emotions are reflecting back at me. How could I have been this selfish for so long? I closed up, turned my back on Inara because of my pain and anger. The same thing he had done to me. So how could I not forgive him if I expect Inara to forgive me? “Thanks, Apá, for saying all that. I know it was so hard for you then, and must still be hard for you now.”

“Losing her was hard, but the risk was well worth the rewards.” He takes a bite from his burrito and turns his head to the side to hide the tear rolling down his cheek. When he recollects himself, he turns to face me again. “Our entire lives are risky. Look at you, here on training. When you signed up for the SEALs, you knew you would live a life of risk. All the time you are gone, both in training and in very real dangerous situations. Yet, Inara still chose to be with you. She knew the risk and she chose it anyway.”

Being married to a SEAL brings a level of uncertainty to life every single day. Marge and Taya experience it, but I never stopped to think, or ask, how my job affected Inara. She never had a father or stepfather remain in her life for a long period of time, yet she still chose to try to make things work with me, even with the very real possibility I could return in a pine box. My stomach drops. Yet I did leave her in a different way when I walked out to come to training, cutting her off completely.

Hell, I made her live through my own fears. Because while my dad hadn’t walked out physically, he’d checked out emotionally. For so long. And yes, that still hurt, but I understand him a little better now. He’d been dealing with his own demons, and he’d done the best he could. Young Tony hadn’t understood that at the time, but adult Tony could.

I toss a chip onto the table. “God, I’m such an asshole. How could I leave Inara without saying anything?”

“We all make mistakes. I have my own regrets, about how I should have taken better care of my mental health, back after your mom passed, instead of just going through the motions. I blame your marriage problems on myself.” My father reaches across the table and grips my hand before I can speak, his eyes blazing with a fierce light. “But now is the time for you to turn that around. Yes, pain is the risk that you accept when you put yourself out there, when you put your trust and heart in someone else. But without that risk, there is no reward. Do you think, in a million years, I would trade all those wonderful days with your mom if I’d known that she would get sick? Would you?”

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