Page 59 of Wishing for La Luna
And it’s the somber light in his eyes that brings me back to his earlier words about how precious the moments I spent with my mom are. My heart shatters for him so fast.
His mom.
I want to hold him, but I hold myself back. I don’t want him to clam up. He needs to let it out. I guide him to the couch instead.
I tuck my legs under me and pull him to sit beside me. “Tell me. I want to hear it.”
“It was cancer. I found out two years ago. I had just finished a tour and she was here in New York. She found out before but didn’t tell me, waiting until I was done with that fucking tour to tell me. She waited about a month to go to the doctor, where they told us her days were numbered. We headed to the DR, and I took care of her until her last moment. I couldn’t be away.”
The flash of pain punches through my chest. He had to watch his mother die. I bite the inside of my cheek to stop the surge of emotion.
“Watching her fade away was as bad as losing her. She used to be active and lively. She was kind of like your mom, but a lot feistier. It hit me today after we got home from the last rehearsal.” His eyes turn cloudy, like a storm coming closer and closer. “The concert opens tomorrow, and I’m not going to hear her voice.Ella siempre estaba ahí.Before every concert, I got a call from her. But this time, she won’t tease me aboutchiviricasthrowing their panties at me onstage. She won’t give me her blessing and send 25-30 saints to stand behind me, hold my hand, or go in front of me. There won’t be candles on anyone’s mantel tomorrow or a mass offered with gratitude after.”
Tears glisten in his eyes, a knot in my throat. His hand tightens around mine. I’m impotent as the tears drop down his cheeks, and mine fall just as fast. My mom is my everything, and to think of him living my worst fear is just devastating.
“I don’t want you to cry,” he says.
“I can’t help it. I don’t want you to hurt like this.” I can barely get the words out because my throat hurts so much.
He covers his face with his hands, leaving the tears that keep falling as the silent sign of his pain.How many times can a heart break?
I pull him close, pressing his face to my chest, and hug him as tight as I can.
“Why did he do this to me?” he asks, and before I can ask, he adds, “Why did He take her? She was so good. She helped everyone. I needed her. I don’t have my dad anymore.Me dejo huerfano.He left me alone.”
Orphan.
I’m desperate to help him, but I don’t know how. I breathe and hold on tight. I let him cry and let my own tears cloud my eyes, fall, and clear my vision again. He’s not alone. Doesn’t he know that?
Maybe you need to say it.
“I’m here, Rio. I’m here with you.”
He pushes back, lifting his head from my chest. His red-rimmed eyes are moving all over my face. “¿De verdad?”
And I know what he’s asking.Do I mean it?The words came out of my mouth so fast, in a way that only the truth can. Because I do mean it. I’m here. I don’t want him to be alone.
“Yes, because...”
“You feel sorry for me, and you’re nice?—”
I press my fingers to his lips. “I’m falling in love with you.”
His eyes round. “But you said…”
“I know. My mouth says a lot of things, but…” I can’t seem to get all my words together, so I just press a hand to my chest.
He sits back on my couch with his hand tight around mine.
My heart pounds its way out of my chest. I just confessed I’m falling for him. I put myself out there when he’s confessing about his mom, and I don’t know if he feels the same.
I look toward the other side of the room and swallow.What the fuck did you do, Luna?
“Thank you,” he says.
My stomach knots, and fear settles like a puddle. He’s grateful.Shit.
“I don’t trust people, and I haven’t even been able to talk aboutellawith anyone.Ellaes sacred.”
