“This is bribery,” he rasps.
“Yes,” Bastien and I both say at the exact same time.
I swear, Javier nearly smiles.
“All right,” he finally says.Chapter Forty-OneCalebI take a seat in the waiting room. At least I think it’s the waiting room; the sign has come off the door, just leaving a few lines of glue where it was once attached. There are blue vinyl chairs arranged in rows, fake plants, and old People magazines scattered around, so it seems like a waiting room.
I take a seat. I pick up a magazine. The cover has a badly-photoshopped picture of two celebrities on it, and a huge headline screams THIS TIME IT’S FOR REAL - BRAD AND ANGIE SPLIT!
I open it to a random page and hope that Thalia’s okay. I understand why she didn’t want me meeting Javier right now. I think I’d have chosen something similar if it were me and one of my brothers, but I wish I could be there for her.
Even if I don’t know how, not really. The big tragedy of my life was a single gut-punch when I was a child, followed by an ugly, uneasy truth learned years later, and I only know how that feels. I only know how to slowly heal from something that’s happened, not how to stay sane when the wound gets re-opened again and again.
I’m staring down at some women in evening gowns and thinking about Thalia when the door opens and her father walks into the room. He stops immediately inside the door, then scans the room like he’s taking note of everything that’s wrong with it.
Finally, he seems to notice me sitting there, and he walks over. He sits in a chair opposite me, his hands on his thighs, back ramrod straight. I put the magazine back down on the coffee table, sit up a little straighter myself.
“Captain Lopez,” I say, and nod.
“Caleb,” he says, and nods curtly back. The minor inequality of our names grates on me — we’re both adults, I’m not his subordinate — but I have every reason under the sun to let it go, so I do.
“How is Javier?” I ask, the natural next question.
“Alive,” he says again, then seems to catch himself. “My wife is in with him right now, trying to talk him into letting us put him through rehab again.”
His jaw flexes, like he doesn’t approve of this plan but has no alternative.
“I see,” I say.
“How long have you been dating my daughter?” he asks, changing direction on a dime. “As I recall, you also drove her to see her mother in September. Quite a drive.”
“A few months,” I say, ignoring the second part of his statement.
“She hasn’t said anything to us about having a boyfriend,” he says, his tone perfectly neutral but somehow aggressive at the same time, like he’d like to start an argument with me in this hospital waiting room.
I am perversely tempted to say well, sir, that’s because she’s one of the many women who I’m casually fucking right now, even though it’s completely untrue. There’s just a part of me that wants to see this man’s reaction to that statement.
“No?” I ask, perfectly neutral.
“No,” he says. “Not a word.”
“I guess that’s her choice, isn’t it?”
That doesn’t get a response. Instead, he crosses one ankle over the opposite knee and puts an elbow on the armrest.
“And what is it you do?”
Shit. It did occur to me that this would come up, but then Thalia’s phone rang again and it was Bastien with another update, and I forgot to tell her we should figure out a lie.
“I’m a graduate student,” I say, since the lie that’s closest to true is usually the best. “Mathematics.”
“What do you plan on doing with that?” he asks.
“I’ll be going on the academic job market soon,” I say.
“Not too many opportunities there,” he says. “You’d make a much better living going into cyber security or working with the dee-oh-dee. That’s the Department of Defense.”
“I’ll see what I can find and consider my options,” I tell him, just as the door to the waiting room opens again, and Thalia’s mother steps through.
I’ve never actually met her before, but this woman looks so much like Thalia that it can’t be anyone else. Raul turns and looks at her, and as she walks over we both stand.
“This is Caleb, Thalia’s new boyfriend,” her father says, and I hold out my hand.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Lopez,” I say. “I’m sorry it had to be like this.”
“It’s Paloma, and thank you,” she says, her grip surprisingly strong. “Thank you for bringing her. She and Bastien are in there right now, trying to talk some sense into him.”
Her eyes are bloodshot, puffy, her cheeks splotchy, but she half-smiles at me.
“He’s a graduate student who’ll be going on the academic job market soon,” Captain Lopez says to his wife.