Page 7 of I Survived and will rise again

“You’re such an ass.” I laugh.

“Hey, no cussing in front of the baby,” he teasingly scolds as he looks down at Sophia and tenderly rubs her back. She’s wearing a Brewers sweatshirt he bought a few months ago before shit hit the fan. Jo playfully twirls the matching silky ribbonstied in her bouncy, curly locks that are styled in adorable pigtails.

“What are your future plans, Sade? Are you going to college?” Jo asks.

I shrug and look away, afraid of how he will respond to my answer. “I don't know, but I applied to a photography school where Donnie will be.” I turn back to Jo and add, “In Tennessee. It’s a great opportunity for me. But I haven’t heard anything yet, so I’m not getting my hopes up.”

He doesn’t respond right away, leaving my stomach tied up in knots. I've been riding the rollercoaster ride of emotions since Jo has come back from the dead. On the one hand, I'm excited about the opportunity to attend college. Something I thought I'd never be able to do.

And then there's the mixed feelings of anxiety, sadness, and guilt about leaving Jo behind after I thought I had lost him forever. These conflicting emotions are fucking with my head, making it difficult to decide what to do next.

I fear he might think I’m abandoning him, especially after everything he has been through. Should I withdraw my application, take classes closer to home instead, and reapply when he's ready to be alone?

“Stop it,” he says firmly, his eyes fixed on mine. I furrow my brow and stare back at him. “Stop what?” I ask, my voice reflecting my confusion and uncertainty.

“I know what you're thinking,” he replies, his voice softening. “You need to start thinking about yourself and what's best foryou.”

Tears well up in my eyes as I shake my head. “I don't want to leave you,” I admit, trying not to burst into tears.

He gives me a sad smile. “I'm a big boy, Sade,” he says gently. “And you're notleavingme. I hope you get in. If anyone deserves happiness, it's you.”

Damnit. I can’t stop the tears from falling down my cheeks. “And who knows, maybe I'll follow you and take Mom and Abuela with me,” he says casually.

My eyes widen in shock. “Really?” I ask, the hope in my heart rising.

He nods, a determined look on his face. “Yeah. Maybe we all need to get the hell out of here and start over. Besides, there's nothing left for us here anyway.”

He's referring to Papi. I sense the tension in his voice and don’t want to pry further. The mere mention of Papi will open the door to a flood of painful memories I knew all too well. Memories that haunt us day and night could keep anyone up all night, so I keep them locked with chains behind the red door in my mind. But I also knew that healing takes time, and sometimes, one painful memory at a time is all we can handle.

But Jo's fear and sadness are still palpable, a weight that must be heavy on his chest and one he can’t seem to shake. He looks at me with a sad, vulnerable expression. “I'm fucking terrified,” he admits. “Scared I'll never get past everything that happened.”

My heart aches at the admission, at the raw honesty spilling from his lips. I reach for his hand, squeezing it. “We will help you get through this, no matter what,” I reassure him. “I won’t let you fight this alone.”

A tremor passes through him, his shoulders heaving with a sigh that carries the weight of a thousand burdens. “I'm afraid of relapsing again, Sade,” he confesses, the words hanging in the air. “I'm afraid of fucking up again.”

“As long as you stay on your medications and follow through with your treatment, we will find a way to navigate through this together,” I promise, my voice tinged with determination. But as the words leave my lips, doubt and uncertainty creep in. How do you reassure someone when uncertainty seems to loom at everyturn? How do you fight back against the fear that threatens to consume a person whole?

"I have nightmares,” he whispers. “Every time I close my eyes, all I see is Vince and Neo...and Elisa...” Jo shakes his head as he lowers his gaze, unable to finish.

I can't imagine what it was like for him the whole time he was gone, fighting the battles and the scars that still plague him. I take a deep breath, mustering every ounce of strength I have to offer.

I search for the right words, the beacon of hope I desperately want to offer. “You are stronger than you realize, Jo.”

The tears that glisten in his eyes speak volumes, reflecting the turmoil and pain beneath the surface. “I don't feel strong,” he confesses, his voice breaking. “Strength isn't always about feeling invincible. You’re not Superman. It's about having the courage to face your fears, to keep moving forward even when you have doubts,” I tell him.

There is a flicker of something in his eyes that struggles to break through the veil of despair. In a voice barely above a whisper, he says, “I want to fucking believe that.” The fragility of hope is palpable, as if it is a delicate flower that’s trying to bloom.

“Thenwewill believe itfor youuntil you can believe it yourself,” I vow.

“For fuck’s sake. When did these medications get me all weepy and shit?” he complains out of nowhere, wiping his face.

I flash a playful smile and reach for Sophia's bottle from the diaper bag, teasingly suggesting to Jo, “Maybe I need to giveyouSophia's bottle instead since you're acting like a big baby.”

However, as I turn back to him, I can't help but notice a scowl on his face. Before he can say anything, Sophia impatiently grabs the bottle from my hand. She eagerly begins to drink from it andmoves to nestle her little back against Jo's chest. As I glance at Jo, I notice a mixture of annoyance and amusement in his gaze.

I missed this.

Teasing each other.

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