We'll Meet Again Soon
Carina
The wind blows my hair across my face, and it sticks to the tears that continuously stream down my face. They haven’t stopped, not for a second, since the news of papá’s death earlier this week.
I flew across the country to be here, to be able to stand with mamá and my brother as family, friends and complete strangers talk to us and pay papá his respects. I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to listen to people talk and laugh.
They all say the wrong things.
Which is something I know will happen when a woman I’ve never met approaches me. I wipe my face quickly, taking her hand as she offers it to me. She pats the other hand on my shoulder and says a string of words that no doubt are meant to comfort me.
But I don’t hear them. I just nod.
I don’t even force a smile on my face. I just nod.
She moves on, doing the same thing with mamá, who stands beside me. Except, mamá does not even take her hand nor acknowledges her presence. The woman just smiles softly and walks away when she receives no reaction from mamá
“Who was she?” I manage to whisper through the emotions in my throat.
“No sé.” (1)
That’s all mamá can respond before she sighs and takes her seat, not caring that others are lining up to give us their condolences.
Saúl steps forward telling everyone that we would like to be alone for now.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
“I think my mom’s had enough. We should take her home.”
I look at him, nodding. He looks so much like papá, he would only need a thick mustache and some gray hair to fool us all.
“I don’t want to go home,” Mamá huffs from beside me, taking out her fan and waving it in front of herself.
I raise an eyebrow, trying to not make a joke about how ridiculous she looks waving that thing around while I can’t keep my hair out of my face from all of this wind.
“Mamá, we can’t stay here all day,” Saúl whispers.
“Home isn’t home without Javier.”
No, home doesn’t feel like home anymore, but what else are we supposed to do?
Saúl looks at me, shrugging his shoulders. “We tried.”
I swallow, my nostrils flaring, half thankful that we are in fact not going home yet. I don’t think I can handle it quite yet. Papá’s office, his favorite recliner, his coffee mug and the smell of his cologne are all constant reminders that he was but is no longer.
A cold breeze smacks me in the cheek and I keep my chattering teeth pressed tightly together. They don’t call it The Windy City for nothing.
I watch as people approach the coffin. Watch as they place flowers on top of it. Some cry, some smile, some only tap the wooden cover. I nod at extended family as they walk by us, but I refuse to stand and join in on the conversations.
I don’t want to talk to anyone, much less pretend that I’m okay.
Papá’s gone, and there is nothing in the world that can fill the void of his absence.
“Oh no,” Mamá whispers from beside me, her hand reaching out to latch onto my arm.
Her nails dig into me painfully and I mask my pained face as I look down at her, “What’s wrong?”
She lifts her head pointing forward with her chin.
I follow her gaze and notice a tall man, more muscle than anything, approaching us.
Saúl mutters under his breath and stands in front of mamá and me. “We’d like to be left alone for now.”
The man tilts his head at him, raising an eyebrow before shooting mamá a look.
“Dejaló,” She whispers. (2)
I turn to her. “You know this man?”
“Unfortunately,” She stands as she speaks, crossing her arms in front of her stomach.
“Estela, I’m here to pay my respects. Your husband was very…important to me.”
Mamá’s lips quiver, as if she’s trying to hide her scowl. “I do not think he would want you here.”
The man smiles, showing a row of perfect white teeth and a charming dimple graces his left cheek, softening the severity of his appearance.
He plays with the cuffs of his jacket, adjusting his shoulders. “Your husband and I were very good friends.”
Mamá scoffs. “Friends? You are only here because I want to keep my family safe. Eres una mierda.” (3)
“Mamá!” I can’t help but intervene, I’ve never heard her say a bad word in my entire life, and it embarrasses me to hear her talk like that.
The man chooses then to look at me, and god, I wish I could hide. I tense under his gaze. Intense brown eyes carry the weight of knowledge and experience, framed by thick, commanding eyebrows that furrow with concentration as he tilts his head. “You must be Carina.”
My heart beats in my chest so loud, I look around to see if anyone else can hear it. It’s almost as if I cannot help but answer him, as if he draws so much authority, I can feel it’s thickness in the air. “Yes.”
His smile widens, sending shivers down my spine. His sleek, jet-black hair is meticulously styled, swept back on his head with a polished precision that matches his tailored black suit and tie. It’s like the wind can’t touch him. I shudder.
His eyes travel down my face, lingering on my chest before he lifts them back up to meet my eyes. I grab my jacket, tightening it around myself as I set my face in a harsh frown. It’s unnerving the way he looks at me, the way he studies me.
He responds with an even wider grin, setting me more on edge. “We’ll meet again soon.”
His voice carries in the air in a thick and deep tenor, making it hard to understand sometimes. My skin pebbles at the sound.
“What the fuck, man? Who are you?” Saúl frowns, attempting to stand between us when mamá stops him.
“Don’t, Saúl. Let the man be.”
Saúl looks at mamá with a furrowed brow, lifting his shoulders as if he is offended by her request.
The man does not remove his eyes from me, placing his hands in his pockets, but not fast enough for me to miss the tattoos that litter his fingers and wrists.
“I am sorry for your loss, Carina.” The man speaks to me, ignoring Saúl.
The way he says my name forces me to press my lips together. It’s as if he has said my name a million times, as if he has known me my entire life.
Mamá scoffs and shakes her head. “Is that all you’ve come to say?”
He looks at me a moment longer and practically has to peel his eyes away from me. “It is.”
“Then leave.”
My mouth dries. Two men have been flanking him the entire time he’s been talking to us. It’s obvious they carry weapons, and it’s even more obvious that they know how to use them. Mamá is choosing such a weird time to be so rude.
I hold in my scold.
The man bows his head at mamá and shoots me a smile before turning to walk away. He is halfway to his car when he says something to the men that walk beside him and they both turn to look at me, their eyes widening and eyebrows moving up in curiosity.
I shiver.
I turn to mamá. “Who is he?”
She looks at me, tears in her eyes. “You’ll know soon enough.”
“What does that mean?”
“I loved your father, but this is something I have not been able to forgive. I’m sorry, mija, but I cannot tell you. It is something between you and him.” (4)
Saúl shakes his head. “What?”
My thoughts exactly, what is she talking about? I’m too shaken to ask for more information, hoping that if I ignore the man, then I can act as if he doesn’t exist.
Mamá huffs. “I’m ready to leave now.”
I give the cemetery a once over, looking at the coffin once more. Though papá’s body lays in there, I know it’s not really him. It’s just his body.
The moment a person dies and their soul leaves, their body looks unfamiliar to me. The light leaving their eyes is unsettling, and I still have not gotten used to it even through residency and my practice.
I chose to become a doctor, to follow in papá’s footsteps, but I hope to never see death as commonplace.
We walk away from everyone, not attempting to say goodbye and somehow make it to my car without anyone spotting us. Tío Fer has agreed to take care of all the funeral arrangements so that Saúl and I can take mamá home without worrying about it.
I sit in the driver’s seat and mamá and Saúl sit in the back. We haven’t eaten since this morning, but I cannot stomach the idea of eating. Still, I ask, “Do you want me to stop for food?”
“I can’t even think about eating,” Mamá whispers.
I watch her in the rearview mirror. Saúl wraps his arm around her, letting her rest her head on his shoulder.
She closes her eyes and I grip the steering wheel, afraid of life now that papá is no longer in it.
Afraid of life now that that man, apparently, is in my life now.
(1) No sé – I don’t know.
(2) Dejaló – Let him.
(3) Eres una mierda – You’re a piece of shit.
(4) Mija – Literally translates to “my daughter” but it is a term of endearment that is equivalent to sweetheart, darling, my dear, etc.
