Chapter 3 - WHAT RAFAEL WANTED BACK
Rafael crossed the road toward us.
His eyes never left the letter.
“Give me that.”
Eusebio folded it against his chest.
Rafael stopped.
“Dad, this is not the place.”
“I agree.”
“We have Claire’s wedding today.”
“I heard.”
A muscle moved along Rafael’s jaw.
“We were going to tell you.”
“When?”
“After you settled in.”
“After the guests left?”
Rafael looked at me.
“This is exactly why I made arrangements.”
“You made no arrangements,” I said. “You left him at the gate.”
“A driver was supposed to come.”
“What driver?”
He did not answer.
Eusebio watched him with an exhaustion deeper than anger.
“My bag has everything they gave me when I left prison,” he said. “Two shirts, my papers, forty-three dollars. If a driver existed, you can give him the address.”
Rafael stepped closer.
“What did Iván send you?”
Eusebio’s hand tightened around the letter.
“That question tells me enough.”
My husband looked at me.
“Monica, get in the car. Bring Dad home.”
“No.”
It was a small word.
I had used it with him before over dinner plans, paint colors, vacations.
Never like this.
Rafael blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“He asked me not to take him home.”
“He has been incarcerated for five years. He is overwhelmed.”
Eusebio gave a tired laugh.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The part where I become confused if I stop doing what you want.”
Rafael lowered his voice.
“Dad, Iván has spent years feeding you nonsense.”
“Iván wrote me once.”
That surprised both of us.
Eusebio continued.
“One letter. This one. It arrived twelve days ago.”
“What does it say?”
“That he finally found someone willing to listen.”
Rafael’s composure broke for half a second.
Then it returned.
“Monica, Claire is waiting for you.”
There was the weapon.
Not anger.
Duty.
Our daughter.
The wedding.
The family photograph already scheduled for four-thirty.
Every emergency in our marriage eventually became a test of whether I would ruin something for everyone else.
I opened the driver’s door.
Eusebio looked at me uncertainly.
I said, “Get in.”
Rafael started forward.
I looked directly at him.
May you like
“Not you.”
Then I drove away from my husband on the morning of our daughter’s wedding with his father beside me and Iván’s address entered into the navigation system.
