Page 110 of The Crush
Eighty-Eight
Daniel
I turn down the usual path, steering my truck into the worn treads in the dirt before I get out to climb the time-carved trail up the hill.
When I reach the top, I place a bundle of sunflowers beside another from my dad, the cheerful yellow blooms keeping company with an array of tied wildflowers that I’m certain are from Eva.
“Hi, Mamá,” I murmur, pausing briefly with my hand on the stone. Her name inscribed there still manages to catch me off guard no matter how much I try to prepare myself beforehand.
“I still look for her,” I’d admitted to my dad at this same spot a few days ago. “I still expect her to be at the kitchen table with her cup of coffee when I get up.”
“I do, too,” my dad told me in return, standing close enough that I was able to lean into him a bit and that he could do the same. “Probably why I still talk to her like she is.”
It’s advice I had already started following without realizing. The first time being that first day I finally drove out here. Not knowing initially what I wassupposedto say, I had stumbled over trying to find the right words a few times until I’d finally sat on the ground with my back against the stone and let myself just talk. Anything and everything that came to mind spilling out until the daylightran dry, and I had no choice but to make my way back down the hill in the dark.
Sometimes Isabel comes out here with me, too. Stands next to me with her hand in mine and offers an unexpected gift of new memories to fill some of the emptiness left by all the ones I lost the chance to make on the day I lost her.
Today I stand on the hill and wonder if I should tell Mamá about Brenner. Although I’m starting to find comfort in the idea that there’s little I can tell her that she doesn’t already know.
“I really am done this time,” I say anyway. “I’m done.”
Eventually I hear the welcome open and shut of a truck door, a slow measured pace of footsteps up the incline until the new arrival is close enough to me to speak without needing to raise his voice. He never really needs to anyway.
“Afternoon,” my dad says. “I hear you’ve had an exciting day.”
I turn, not even remotely surprised that I have once again been outrun by the La Orilla phone tree. “Who told you that?”
He shrugs, bending down to swap out his old sunflowers with fresh ones. “A few folks actually. I ran into some people at the feed store. They said something about you talking to some asshole in a suit at the cafe. Looked as if you weren’t getting along.”
“We were seeing eye to eye by the end,” I tell him. “I met with Brenner. He’s—”
“I know who he is.” My dad’s expression turns grim, his posture tight. Clearly as thrilled with the idea of that meeting as Isabel had been in the beginning. “What were you doing with him?”
“Telling him to go fuck himself.”
My dad nods in approval, visibly relaxing. “Well that’s certainly deserved. And overdue.” He eyes me speculatively. “That why you had Isa tell me to meet you? You wanted to tell me about Brenner?”
“No, no, although Iwasgoing to tell you,” I say quickly. “Would have told you before I went but I didn’t want you to worry over it.”
“You’re my kid, Danny,” he gently reminds me. “I’m never going to stop worrying about you.”
“Right, no, I know. I know but…” All the things I wanted to say are getting tangled up in it instead of remaining perfectly assembled like I hoped they would on the ride over. “I only met with Brenner so that he’d finally get it through his head, and now that hehas…” I take a deep breath. “I really wasn’t thinking of going back. I’m only trying to get things sorted out, and I didn’t want it hanging over me anymore.”
“I didn’t think you were going back,” he reassures me. “I know you’ve been working on things. I can see you are.”
“Good. That’s good,” I mutter, hoping that really is the case. “Right, no, that’s good, because I wanted to tell you that before I… I want you to know you can count on me.”Christ, I’ve never had to fight so hard to say something in all my life, but I’m also certain I’ve never cared about something quite as much.
“Mijo.” My dad’s hand lifts to affectionately pat my cheek like he used to do when I was a kid. “You never have to convince me of the kind of person you are, all right? I’ve always known. Even if you forgot yourself for a while.Ihavealwaysknown. Why don’t you spit out what it is you want to ask me before you have a stroke?”
“Right.” I let out a laugh at my own expense. “Sure, okay. I—” I take one more deep breath and then say, “I wanted to ask you if I could have Mamá’s ring. ForIsabel.”
The wind whips up, an unseasonably warm current for a December day swirling around us as my dad starts to grin. “That so?”
“Yes.” I’m still anxious over his answer, certain that askingEvafor her blessing had been easier than this. “If you’re not sure…”
My dad reaches into the pocket of his denim jacket, pulls out a small box, and tosses it in my direction. I catch it, lift the lid slowly, my fingers a bit shaky as I reveal a simple and well-loved gold band with a single diamond. Almost more than a barely eighteen-year-old ranch kid had been able to afford even after having to promise payments for more than a few seasons.
“Wondered when you would get around to asking me,” my dad says as I stare down at the piece of jewelry, picturing so clearly how it had looked on my mamá’s hand as she held fast to my dad’s. “Surprised it took you as long as it did.”
