Page 44 of A Follow-Through in Faking
I waste no time getting to Catalina.
As Charlie said, she’s sitting on the floor, tears streaming down her face as she stares at the television that isn’t turned on. It’s a black screen, but I’m almost glad she isn’t torturing herself by watching replays of her match.
“Hey,cariño,” I say softly, but Cata doesn’t even lift her head to look at me. “Can I sit with you?” Nothing. No response. She simply continues staring at the TV, not moving except for the steady stream of tears flowing down her cheeks.
This is exactly how I get during a depressive episode. I don’t talk much. Darkness consumes every part of me, so I often don’t have the energy to do anything at all. Manu usually helps me open up, to talk about it until I feel better, but everyone responds to depression, anxiety, or any other mental illness differently.
But I only know one way to deal with it from experience, so I go with what I know best.
“I’m absolutely terrified about the match tomorrow. Blake is a really good player, and although I’ve won every match againsthim so far, I don’t feel as confident as I normally do,” I rant, trying to get any kind of reaction out of her.
Cata doesn’t even look at me.
“Have you eaten yet? I’m starving. Charlie said they're getting some food, so I’m very excited. Papá never lets me eat whatever I want the night before matches because—” Catalina carefully places a hand over my mouth, shutting me up mid-sentence.
“Yo sé que a ti te encanta el sonido de tu voz, pero no necesito tus palabras. Necesito silencio,” she says, keeping her hand on my mouth. I kiss the palm of her hand, surprising her so much, she removes it, giving me the chance to speak. I don’t. Not yet.
Words won’t help her. The fact that she hasn’t yelled at me yet for being here, for being so annoying, shows how detached she feels from reality as she wallows in her pain.
I lift my hand to wipe away a tear that drips down her face, and Cata leans into the touch as soon as I cup her face. My heart flutters at the sight, my stomach tumbling. One wrong move, and I will ruin the moment, so I stay as still as possible.
A habit I’ve adopted since I promised myself I’d make it up to Catalina.
She stares directly into my eyes, and I feel myself holding my breath, hoping she will never look away. Hoping she might want to stay in this moment for as long as I do.
“You have such beautiful eyes,” she says seconds later, my thumb finding courage in her words to start rubbing along the apple of her cheek.
“I do?” I ask, my voice breaking a little.
Catalina is the romantic one of the two of us. It’s not surprising she’d say something so sweet. It simply surprises me that she would say that tome.
“I’ve always thought so, but I never said it out loud. I was too angry,” she replies, raising her hand to run her fingers over myleft brow. I drop my hand to the side of her neck, letting her study me as much as she wants.
“Are you not angry with me anymore?” The only thing keeping me from begging for her forgiveness is me biting down on my tongue.
“I still am. You fucked up and didn’t even apologize for it. You got angry with me in return, and that isn’t something I can simply let go of. Not after a decade of building resentment.”
Although her words have my heart beating a little more heavily, she continues to trace my features. She even uses her second hand to place her thumb on my bottom lip, running it along its length.
“Which is a shame because you have a wonderful soul, Santi. You are kind and so special. You used to be one of my favorite people, and it makes me sad whenever I think about how far apart we’ve drifted.”
“Catalina—” She presses her finger down where it rests on my mouth, shutting me up before I can respond to everything she’s said.
“I’m emotional because of the loss today and saying things I’ll probably regret having voiced tomorrow. There is nothing you can say to magically fix anything right now, so maybe it’s best if you say nothing at all,” she goes on, and I can’t even argue with her because I’m not about to tell her how to feel.
Cata has gone through a lot today, and while I thought she might scream at me, call me every terrible name in the English and Spanish languages, she hasn’t.
Perhaps letting her anger out on me isn’t what she needs after all.
“I am sorry, though. For everything, Catalina. I had no right to my anger. You didn’t deserve my prioritizing my career over our goals. You didn’t deserve many of the things I did.” She runsher index finger over my other eyebrow now, studying its thick shape.
“You deserved a lot of the things I did and said.” She smiles a little, but it falls soon after. Her eyes drop to my lips, stopping my breathing once more.
“I did,” I whisper, trying not to tremble when she leans forward, still studying my mouth.
“Santi?” she asks, and I press down on the side of her neck, trying to feel if her heart is racing as quickly as mine is.
It is.
