Page 74 of Bound and Blitzed

My phone rings and I smile when I see Abuela’s face appear.

“Hola, Abuelita,” I answer.

She smiles at me, the lines in her face folding into well-loved wrinkles. “Que tal, mi tesoro?”

I sigh and Abuela frowns.

“What’s wrong?” she asks gently in Spanish.

Tears well in my eyes and I shake my head.

“You are in Chicago, with your family?” she asks.

I nod as more tears gather.

“And your Avery is playing football in Boston,” she continues.

I nod again.

“What is it, Valentina?” Abuela presses, even though I think she knows the answer.

As the tears spill over, the entire story tumbles out. I tell her all about Mamá, Papá, Ale, and Carla showing up on Christmas morning. About the terrible, awkward, uncomfortableness of their visit. About coming to Chicago and Mamá’s comment. “No one accepts him. They don’t accept us,” I explain, pointing to my chest.

“They don’t know him,” Abuela says.

“They don’t want to know him,” I clarify.

“Ay, yes. That’s the heart of it,” she agrees.

“What do I do?” I ask, miserable.

Abuela sighs. “You do what is right in your heart, Valentina. If Avery is it for you, if he is the man that you want to commit your life, your love, to being with, then you fight for him and for your marriage.”

I’m quiet as I process her words. I look at her, waiting.

She sighs again, more heavily this time. “And if he is not, then deep down, you know that too. But only you can make that choice.”

I nod, knowing she’s right. We talk for a few more minutes before I say good-bye.

Snuggling into the bed, I rest my head on the pillow. My mind spins. Everything over the past few months has happened at warp speed. Since the moment I met Avery, it has been highs and lows. Soaring and sinking.

Is our fake marriage built to last? Or am I trying to convince myself that our love is real because we’re already married?

If I was certain of my place at Avery’s side, would a few sharp words from Mamá and Papá have such an impact? Would their opinions of Avery, of our marriage, cause me to question things so easily?

A headache forms as I try to get a handle on my thoughts. On my feelings.

Needing a connection to Avery, I text him.

Valentina

Missing you.

I wait for ten minutes but he doesn’t reply. Sighing, I drop my phone on the bed, close my eyes, and nap until dinner.

That night, I meet my family at the hotel bar for drinks. Then, Mamá, Papá, Alejandro, Carla, and I make our way to a trendy restaurant where we talk and share and spend time together for hours. There’s an ease, an effortlessness, that didn’t exist when we were at Avery’s and my condo in Knoxville. For the first time in years, I feel caught up in the mix. I feel like a true Garcia.

It leaves me wondering—will my husband ever fit in with my family? Or will he take my place and be the only member constantly apart?

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