Page 36 of Raise The Bar
“How are you, mi tesoro?” My father’s deep baritone engulfs me like a bear hug and this term of endearment warms my heart. He grew up speaking Spanish, but rarely uses it anymore. He calls June and I “mi tesoro” or “mi ángel” because that’s what his father called his daughters.
My grandparents immigrated to Maine from Puerto Rico in the late 1950’s when the booming farming industry had a dire need for workers. They worked hard and raised a family there. My father and his siblings were all born and raised in Maine. Dad moved to Massachusetts for school, where he met my mother. He never left.
“I’m great!” I say with more enthusiasm than necessary. “I’m keeping busy and staying out of trouble.”
“I don’t doubt it. I’ve never worried about you getting into trouble. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. You can thank your mother for that.” There is fondness in his voice, like there always is when he mentions Mom. There was a time when that wasn’t the case. After we lost her, the pain was too raw. We didn’t talk about her for a while. It was too hard. We couldn’t remember the countless good times without triggering the bad ones. Her sickness. The treatments. When we realized she wasn’t going to win her fight.
My mom always said that dad was an elementary school teacher because he wanted to be amongst his peers. He really is a big kid at heart. Throughout my childhood he was always playing practical jokes. His favorite was jumping out from behind something to scare us. We would scream and run, he would chase us and we’d all end up on the floor in a pile laughing.
Dad took longer than any of us to heal, which I suppose is understandable. He loved her for longer. She was his partner in every sense of the word. When we lost her, we lost him for a bit too. He gradually came back to us over time, but she took a piece of him with her when she left us.
Strangely enough, meeting Valerie seemed to help him heal that final bit. They met through a mutual friend three years after mom passed away. It was clear from the start that she wasn’t trying to replace my mother, but she’s loved and supported June and I like we were her own from the beginning. She’s always encouraged us to talk about Mom, never threatened by her memory.
“Have you ordered your suit for the wedding yet?”
“Yes, mi tesoro, but if Valerie keeps making me sample her new hor d’oeuvres, it’s not going to fit next month.” Valerie owned a catering company for years. She sold it last year, but she still helps the new owner with big events. Creating new and interesting recipes is her favorite hobby, and she specializes in unique flavor combinations.
“If she needs a taste tester, I volunteer as tribute.” Just thinking about Valerie’s culinary delights makes my mouth water. She has a gift for pairing flavors no other human would think to put together.
“Are you eating enough? Our fridge is full. You’re welcome to come visit.”
“I wish I could, Dad. But I have an appointment this afternoon and I work all day tomorrow.” I’m really looking forward to my appointment with Winnie later today. We’ve made some good progress in my last few sessions, and I’m feeling less like my life is a map with no labels. She always manages to gently point me in the right direction.
“You’re not working too hard, are you mi ángel?” I can hear the concern in his voice. “I know you’re busy, but make sure you’re not spreading yourself too thin, okay? Especially with the wedding coming up.”
“I promise, I’m not, Dad.” I assure him. “I’ve even booked the week of the wedding off, so don’t worry. I’ve got it all under control.”
We chat for a few minutes more before saying our goodbyes. Hanging up, I see Callum’s last text still waiting for an answer. I send him a quick text before I can waiver anymore.
Me:Crazy busy this week. We’ll catch up soon.
Was that so hard? Brief. Casual. Unaffected.
I’ve got it all under control.
If only.
***
“Did you want to invite him in?” Winnie asks as she watches me carefully from behind her desk. Her curls are wild today, and I mean wild. We are talking Patty and Selma fromThe Simpsonsvolume. She wears a long-sleeve color block dress that is so bright, I dare not look directly at it for fear that it blinds me.
“No. Yes? I don’t know,” I answer honestly as I slouch down in my high-backed armchair. “I wanted to, but also I didn’t want to want to.” I swear, I normally make more sense, but my brain feels so jumbled. “I’m trying to go after what I want, but how can I do that when I keep changing what I want every five seconds?”
“You’re familiar with the phrase ‘the heart wants what it wants’, right, Maggie? In your case, I think your heart wants what it wants, but your brain is trying to talk it out of it. It’s a defense mechanism. And it’s not always a bad thing,” she smiles sympathetically at me. “Your head wants to protect you from getting hurt.”
“And I appreciate that, but for once it would be nice if all of my body parts were on the same page,” I groan miserably.
“They’ll sync up eventually, I’m sure of it.” I wish I was sure of anything right now. I’ve gone to bed feeling great about my plans to expand my business only to wake up in the middle of the night, uncertain if I’m doing the right thing. One minute I want to stay away from Callum and his laissez faire way of life, the next I want to climb on top of him and claim him as my own. “Has Mark reached out again?” Her hushed tone pulls me from my thoughts.
“No, thankfully,” I sigh. “I’m hoping he’s realized that I won’t change my mind, but that’s probably foolish of me.” I doubt this is the case at all, but a girl can hope. Mark is not one to back down easily, and I’ve never stood up to him like this before.
“Hope is never foolish, Maggie. Studies show it reduces feelings of helplessness, increases happiness, reduces stress, and improves our quality of life. Just because something seems unlikely doesn’t mean we shouldn’t hope for it.” Her eyes crinkle at me and her smile is so pure I can’t help but mirror it.
“I won’t give up hope.” I’m not only making a promise to her, but also myself.
I won’t give up hope.
Chapter 21
