Mine Would Be You (13)

I love living on my own. But this Brooklyn house will always be home, and I’ve never been more thankful for it or my parents.

Dad goes to stand next to Mom as she flips the empanadas for the last time, his brown skin just a bit lighter than hers and mine. My dad is black and white, and my mom is Columbian, hence the mix of skin tones between all of us. He wraps an arm around her waist and presses a soft kiss to her temple. Just standing there in her presence, in her space. The love between them is clear as day as he starts to dance around her to the beat of the song and she shoos him away, though there is a goofy grin on her lips.

They’re the epitome of the lucky ones. I know I want that one day, what they have.

But I don’t think I want it anytime soon.

Looking away, I watch the swirls of the coconut milk in my drink instead.

My parents always treated me like a princess for sure, but today, the treatment is above and beyond. My plate is served with at least three scoops of sweet potatoes, two scoops of rice, and six empanadas. I don’t complain as we dig in, their eyes on me the whole time in that gentle make sure she’s okay parent look they have.

And I barely have any time to digest my dinner before my mom is serving us slices of torta negra cake. When she places mine down, she presses a slow kiss to my forehead. I’m cried out from this week. Shed all the tears I felt I needed to. But being here with them, I can’t help but feel the emotions start to bubble again, just a different kind.

I savor the mix of the cake and the vanilla ice cream, letting the flavors melt on my tongue and fix all the little cracks in my heart. Because my parents and their cooking can most definitely do that. After we finish, my mom shoos my dad out of the kitchen, and I can hear the music turn up just a little. I grab plates and silverware to help her, but she stops me.

My mother’s black hair is cut short to her shoulders, but it’s as glossy as ever, and her brown eyes twinkle with that motherly instinct as she looks at me. Her brown skin is smooth and soft as she reaches forward and tucks my hair behind my ear.

“Te amo, mija,” she says, pulling me into a tight hug, and I close my eyes and just stay there in the embrace. She pats my back. “Okay, go see your dad. He wants to talk to you.”

I nod as she kisses me on the cheek. My phone and keys are tucked into the hoodie as I enter the living room. It’s cozy. A couch lines the back wall with two recliners on either side to face the TV, leaving the window clear for light to come through. He’s seated on the couch. I fall down next to him, where he lifts his arm for me, and I curl into the embrace.

He presses a soft kiss to my forehead. “You okay?”

One of my favorite songs on the CD is playing, “God Only Knows,” and I let the song wash over me. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“If you’re not, that’s okay too. But I know I raised a strong girl, and I know you know that you deserve better and that you’ll be okay.”

I smile, fully aware we couldn’t have this conversation without a dig at Myles. “I am, I swear. I was sad this week. It was just surprising is all. But I’m better.”

He squeezes my arm. “I love this song. Remember I’d play it every Sunday morning while we made waffles before your mom was up?”

My lips quirk into a smile at the memory. We used to jam out to random songs every Sunday, always changing up the playlist as we surprised my mom with waffles, though it became less of a surprise and more of a tradition. Without fail, we would play this song every week.

“Regardless of how you feel, I know it sucks right now, no matter how much you tell yourself it doesn’t. I never liked him. I know, I’m your dad, so it’s expected that I say that. But something just wasn’t right,”

My dad doesn’t get sappy often, but I hear the little crack in his voice as he coughs to hide it. I feel like I’m seventeen again, when Myles first broke up with me before he left for college, right before my senior year, and I stayed cuddled on the couch between my parents. They watched all my favorite movies on repeat with me, cooked me all my favorite food, and barely left me alone until they were sure I was okay.

I’m twenty-three. I’m grown up. I should be able to handle this on my own. But being here with my parents today has been the best thing I didn’t know I needed.

“One day there will be someone that comes along and makes you realize Myles was never even an option for you.”

My eyes flutter closed as I lean into his side further. Thankful more than ever for my dad.

“And I don’t know if it’s possible, but one day you’ll find that someone who loves you more than me or tries to. But that someone is not him, and until that day and every day after, I’ll be here. I love you, Nina.”

As his words wash over me, I feel warmth. Whether it’s the heat coming through the vents, the fullness from the meal, my dad’s embrace, or a sign of healing, I savor it. It’s the first time I’ve felt genuinely okay all week. Even though I feel unlucky in love, in life sometimes, I know that’s just a phase. Just a part of becoming an adult, of growing up.

I know that this time will be filled with ups and downs, like life always is. That you can’t have any flowers without a little rain. That the beauty of life is seeing the clear blue sky after a storm.

I know the wedding will be the finale of Myles and me. Our last goodbye. A book being glued shut for good. And that will probably hurt a bit. Or a lot.