I screwed up big time. That much becomes painfully clear when Ellie walks away, pretending my words didn’t affect her when I know for a fact that they did. Her pain was as obvious as the tears threatening to fall, and instead of feeling satisfied at driving her away, I feel a huge sense of loss.
I haven’t been able to shake the same feeling since last night, when I told her we were all wrong for each other, and her attempt today at making me jealous only amplified the sensation.
I like Ellie, but I’m terrified of giving in to my feelings and getting hurt after the way my last relationship turned out, so I keep pushing her away. Keep making up excuses and finding a million different reasons why we wouldn’t work. Some may be valid, but that doesn’t make the truth hurt any less.
If I were a different person, I would date her in a heartbeat, but I’m not.
I’m a screwed-up orphan with enough trust issues to keep a therapist on speed dial, while she is beautiful, compassionate, and far too perfect for someone like me. I would break her before she ever had a chance to do the same to me, and the thought of that happening makes me sick to my stomach.
Despite my reasons for keeping her at a distance, I’m still hit with guilt that is so overwhelming, I feel like I’m being choked by it. It grabs me by the throat, making it impossible to breathe.
With a heart full of dread, I head downstairs to find my son on the front deck, looking out at the ocean with a pair of binoculars pressed against his glasses.
“Hola, Papi.” Nico offers me a chance to use them, but I shake my head and take a seat on the chair beside him instead.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Mm.” I don’t want to burden my child with my problems, so I fake a smile and try Ellie’s favorite trick to distract him.
“I spy…”
Nico beams. “What?”
I look around the yacht. “Something red.”
Nico drops the binoculars and scans the deck. “Um…the towel?” He points at the pink-and-white striped one beneath me.
My chest, which was already uncomfortably tight after my conversation with Ellie, aches.
“Nope.”
He frowns. “Hm.”
I readjust my position on purpose, drawing Nico’s attention to the lobsters on my swim trunks.
“Your bathing suit!”
“You got it.” My small smile doesn’t reach my eyes.
His roll. “Only because you gave me a hint.” He taps his chin. “I spy…something white!”
“The clouds?”
“Nope.”
“The fiberglass on the boat?”
He shakes his head, and I spend the next few minutes looking around for something white before choosing something that is pale yellow.
“The deck chairs?”
“Yes! Finally!”
My chest twinges again. I’m not sure how to continue our game, especially given Nico struggling to differentiate between similar-looking colors. If Ellie were here, she would say something to lighten the mood and make me feel better.
Too bad you pushed her away yet again.
Nico frowns. “What’s wrong?”
I break eye contact and stare out at the ocean. “I made a mistake.”
“Oh.” He frowns. “What happened?”
“I hurt someone’s feelings.”
“Did you say sorry?”
“No.”
He laughs to himself. “But you’ve got to say sorry first! You taught me that.”
“I don’t know if sorry is going to work this time.” I seriously doubt Ellie would accept any apology from me that doesn’t come with a personality shift.
He cuddles up to my side. I prop my chin on the top of his head and wrap my arms around him, and together, we stare out at the ocean for a few minutes before he loses patience.
“Why did you hurt the other person’s feelings?”
I’m so caught off guard by his question, I ask him to repeat it.
“The person you hurt. Why did you do it?” he asks.
It takes me a few seconds to consider a good enough response for a nine-year-old kid. “I was scared.”
“Of what?”
“Getting too close to them.”
“Hm.” He snuggles deeper into my chest.
“What?”
“I get scared of getting close to people too.”
“You do?”
He starts tracing invisible patterns on my chest. “I don’t want them to leave one day.” He pauses to take a shaky breath. “Like Mommy did.”
I crush his body against mine. “I don’t want that either.”
Seeing as my own mom left my dad and me, I understand Nico’s fear. It was one that I never truly got over, in part because my father never helped me process it in the first place. I wasn’t allowed to grieve my mother, let alone show any sadness about her leaving.
Boys don’t cry, he told me whenever I thought about my mom.
I’ll give you a real reason to shed some tears if you keep it up, he said while high as a kite on whatever he scored that week.
Unlike my father, I want to give Nico a safe space to talk out his feelings, regardless of how I personally feel about his mother. In the end, we were both to blame for our marriage failing.
Instead of understanding myself better before getting into a serious relationship at only seventeen, I picked the first woman I formed a bond with, whether it was a good one or not, and clung to her. And just like my parents, I’ve allowed my negative relationship with my ex-wife to impact the way I connect with others.
With Ellie.
I tighten my hold around my son. “Sometimes people leave, no matter how much we want them to stay.”
His shoulders slump with defeat. “That’s not fair.”
“I know.”
“What’s the point of letting people get close, then?”
I consider his question. I’ve done a thorough job at keeping people at a distance, but what has it gotten me besides chronic loneliness? I’ve spent so much time avoiding people in general because I thought I would be better off not forming connections, but I’m far from happy.
I kiss the top of his head. “Because life is about finding the right people who want to stay and making sure neither of you ever let go.”
I stare out at the ocean with Nico tucked against my side, wishing I could save him from any more hurt while also acknowledging that there isn’t anything I can do to stop it from happening.
All I can do is be a positive role model for him so he doesn’t fall into the same harmful patterns I did. I don’t want him to be wary of everyone because that is no way to live. I’ve spent the last two years doing that, and I have been nothing but miserable.
I want to be better. For Nico. For Ellie. For me.
And I want to start now.
The rest of the day is spent feeling uncomfortable, with Ellie only speaking to me when absolutely necessary. Nico carries the conversation throughout dinner while Ellie answers his questions without trying to include me. It is painful to know I stole her happiness, especially when I compare the way she is acting to our previous dinners.
Before, she was bright-eyed and expressive, pulling me into conversations whether I wanted to engage or not, but now she can hardly look at me.
It makes me feel like absolute shit, and I need to fix things before they spiral out of my control.
Later that night, once Nico falls asleep, I knock on Ellie’s cabin door. She doesn’t answer right away, but I can make out the faint sound of a strumming guitar through the crack.
I tap my knuckles against the door harder. “Ellie.”
The strumming stops, but the door remains shut.
“Can we talk about earlier, please?”
No response.
“I want to apologize,” I say a minute later when she still hasn’t opened the door. “I know I don’t deserve it, but if you give me a chance, I’d like to explain the real reason why I said what I did today.”
My heart beats faster in my chest as I silently wait. The vein in my neck pulses with each rapid thump of my heart, and I consider giving up and walking away, but my feet won’t move.
Thankfully, I don’t have to. The sound of a lock turning, followed by hinges softly creaking as the door opens, makes my stomach lurch.
Ellie blocks the entrance to her cabin with a frown. Her black and white striped pajama top and pants are a perfect match, and while I like the outfit, I miss seeing her tattoos.
She crosses her arms. “I’m tired, Rafael.”
“We can talk tomo—”
She doesn’t let me finish my sentence. “No. I’m tired.” She emphasizes the word. “It’s exhausting trying to get to know you, and honestly, I don’t know if it’s worth it anymore.”
She doesn’t need a weapon to tear into me and do some damage. Her words are enough, cutting me off at the knees.
I deserve it, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.
She continues, “I was wrong for how I behaved earlier. I let our…um”—she gestures between us without saying the damn word I know she means—“cloud my judgment, and for that, I’m sorry. It was inappropriate for me to push you like that.”
“Regardless, I shouldn’t have said what I did.”
“Why? You were just being honest. I know you don’t trust me and never will, so you might as well put me in my place so I don’t embarrass myself anymore.”
“I hate that I made you feel that way,” I say with a frown.
“Why?”
“Because I care.”
Her bitter laugh sounds all wrong. “You have a funny way of showing it.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Leave me be.”
“I can’t.”
“Why? You’ve done it for eight months already, so it can’t be that difficult.”
“That was before.”
“Before what?”
“I realized just how much I care.”
