Page 129 of Sombra
The kitchen feels empty withoutKim, though.
I eat my dinner in silence, scrolling through my phone. I know it’s antisocial, but while my heart is a little lighter after talking with my mother, I’m still not feeling like talking to anyone. I’ll apologize to them later. Right now, I need to talk to Kim, and this is the only way I know how to speak in a language she’ll understand.
I’m searching my phone for photos.Clues. Anything we did together. And in the middle of dinner, I jump up and go to a few places, taking pictures.
When I return to my seat, frenzied, I post the last of the peonies I picked for her in the garden when she found out she was sick. “I will always care for you like these flowers,” is my caption. And I think of our baby growing in her.God, I need her back.
I post a photoof my guitar, with the words, “I will always play for you. And I will help you learn anything you wish.” She had progressed to playing three chords and a little tune. And I can’t help but see the sexy back of her neck as she plays.
A candle from my room.I caption it, “What we shared together was precious. Is precious.” I exhale. All of those times in my casita. Not just with me insideher, with our vulnerabilities, our souls joining. With her gone, I’m not even half of who I was.
A package of Cola Cao.“My brothers and my family miss you. They treated you wrong.” This is the only kind of packaged food she should have.
The sea sponge in my bath.“If something goes wrong, you can trust me. I will always make it comfortable for you.” Thinking of her in the bath withme makes me ache.
The view from Sergio’s cave into the Albaicín.“I love trying something new with you.” I think about her face trying a cigarette. And our drunken kiss in the Alcazar. And—
The cream and red scarf we bought.“We still need to use this.”
That snow walker cat.“May we never run out of new experiences, no matter how small. And may we forever be open to them.”
A bottle of our olive oil.“All is well. All is well.” She needs to not worry about us or our finances. We are fine.
A strawberry.“Spain wants you to come back. Its food calls to you.” Her face when she tried one. The moans she made.
The plaza where we danced.“I want to dance with you for the rest of my life.” The way she felt in my arms, still forbidden.
I keep goingand going. The last post is a photo of a new dragonfly drawing I did. I type, “You know the dragonfly means adaptation, transformation, realization, clarity, illumination, and whatever else Dani said. You illuminated and transformed my life. I see you clearly. I hope we can adapt together. I love you.”
I sit back and wait. Hoping she’ll get the message. Hoping she’ll understand.
Seeing me put my phone away, Trent elbows me. “Listen, Tavo. You can take a break—”
“This is the worst time to take a break.”
He gestures toward la huerta. “We got a good head start on it today. We could be done tomorrow. At the latest the next morning.”
“With my help.” I press my lips together.
Trent sighs. “If you won’t accept my advice, will you accept my frequentflyer miles?”
My brain stops mid-course and is slow to change direction. “What?”
Grinning, he puts his arm around Dani’s shoulders. “Listen. We’ve spent a lot of time together, and I’ve never seen you with anyone the way you are with Kim.”
“Right.” Dani swallows her bite. “And I know Kim is in love with you.”
“What do you mean?” I say sharply.
“I just know. Isee you two together. You’re meant for each other.”
“We are. I agree.”
“So,” Trent rips off a piece of bread with his teeth. “Go to her. Right after we finish.”
I shake my head. “No, I could not accept. Who will make the decisions, here?”
Dani sticks her thumb out like she’s hitchhiking and points to my brother Guillermo, who is back to ignoring us, eating at the endof the table like he’s never eaten before. Harvesting olives is hungry work.
