“The way I loved you.”
I nodded, afraid to speak, afraid my voice would crack. All the years that we had known each other. All those years of growing up together. I wished I could follow the path back, retrace our footsteps. Find the history of us hidden in a room, waiting to be released.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
I left him standing there, the disk still in his hand. Alone by the window. I stepped away from all the hurt, all that had gone so painfully wrong. I walked forward.
suna
THE VOICES OF MINA and Jonathon arguing float down the stairs. Suna tiptoes from the den into the marble foyer. She strains to hear the conversation, but her hearing aid hisses for a moment, the fuzzy static interfering. Suna adjusts the plastic piece, but the reception does not change. Suna sighs and sits on the bottom step. She knows there is something going on with Mina and Jonathon. She wonders how Mina and Jonathon fit together. Certainly not the way Mina and Ysrael fit together. Suna has seen the longing in Jonathon’s face every time he speaks to Mina. Has seen the way Mina ignores him. That is until recently. Does Mina love Jonathon? Suna moves that piece into place and studies the picture. No. Suna quickly takes that thought away. Mina could never love someone like Jonathon. Someone so different from Ysrael.
Suna frowns. She refuses to believe what she has heard from Uhmma. Refuses to believe that Ysrael could do anything to hurt them. And yet, what did happen? Why has Mina been so secretive lately? What is Mina planning? Where is the money? Suna sighs and takes out her hearing aid. She rests her chin in the palm of her hand. Sometimes she wishes she had a manual that explains why people act the way they do. The chapter on love would be a million pages long. A million pages plus one page at the very end. Like a “p.s.” at the end of a letter.
Love is unexplainable.
mina
THE RAIN FELL IN abrupt bursts, increasing with the wind, dying down to almost nothing a minute later. Suna and I drove slowly through the library parking lot, our eyes scanning the cars.
I couldn’t find the beat-up Ford anywhere.
I headed down the side lot. My breath escaped in a small cry. Ysrael stood under the small overhang at the side entrance, writing in a notebook.
“Suna,” I said without looking at her. “Suna, you have to wait in the library.”
“What?”
“You have to stay at the library. Ysrael and I have to talk about what happened.”
“Why can’t I go with you?”
“ ’Cause you can’t.”
“Please, Uhn-nee. I don’t want to wait by myself.”
“Suna, just do this for me. Please.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Uhn-nee, I want to go with you and Ysrael. You used to take me everywhere. Did I do something? Why are you always trying to leave me behind now?”
My voice softened. “No, Suna, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just important that Ysrael and I have some time alone. Go inside and read and we’ll be back in an hour. I promise.” I reached out and touched her cheek. “Please, Suna.”
“Mina,” Ysrael said, tapping on my window.
I turned to him and smiled, grateful to hear his voice, to see his face. And it wasn’t until I finally searched his eyes that I realized how afraid I had been all day. That he might have left. That he would have gone without me.
I rolled down the window. “Get in,” I said to him and then turned to Suna. I touched her arm. She kept her head down, opened the car door and stepped out into the rain.
I drove us to the lookout. Ysrael sat beside me, his arm draped along the back of my seat, holding on to my headrest. At every red light, I turned to him, checking to make sure he was still there, that he was real. The dampness of his shirt made the goose bumps on his arms rise up. I reached out and touched them.
“You cold?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Nah. I’m fine.”
When I finally stopped the car and turned off the engine, I couldn’t find any other words except, “I’m sorry.”
He stared out the windshield. The clouds enveloped the city, and as night approached, the grayness darkened even further. The soft slanting rain threaded the air.
“I wanted to say something,” I said.
“Whatever,” he said with a shrug.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered again.
“Did you tell her the truth after I left?” he asked.
I slowly shook my head, no.
Ysrael turned away from me, but not before I saw the look of hurt and disappointment etched on his face.
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” he stated without looking at me.
I pulled on his arm. “I’ll tell her tonight. I’ll get her to ask you back. Ysrael, please.”
When Ysrael wouldn’t look at me, I leaned forward into the steering wheel and hid my face in my arms. “I’ll change,” I sobbed. “I’ll fix everything. Please don’t leave me.”
The raw heaves of my breath echoed in the cramped space of the car. I felt Ysrael’s hand lightly touching my hair. I turned to him. He wrapped his arms around me and gathered me up, lifting me from my seat and onto his lap.
I buried my face into his neck and let my tears fall across his collarbone, welling up in the hollow. When my cries had finally stopped, Ysrael took one of my hands and held it
