semi-automatic ; j.d

one hundred and four ; changing of the seasons

in the moments when she's the most nervous, mia becomes hypercritical of everything.

the coffee's not strong enough. the room's too cold. the light bothers her eyes. the menu feels weird against her fingertips. the floor's sticky. there's a hole in the upholstery of the booth. her father won't stop looking at her.

"do you stare at everyone like that?"

she's not sure if raul seems taken back by her bluntness, but if he is, he hides it well.

"no," he replies. "just my daughter."

the endearment in his voice makes mia feel a twinge of something unfamiliar yet familiar at the same time. like the way you feel at the end of a movie when everything works out. when all the pieces fall together. as she sits across from her father in a small booth at a small diner, she wonders what would've happened if he had never left. and part of her hates him for making her heart ache.

"how did you know where i was?"

"your mom was talking about the big interview you had-"

"no," she shakes her head, but she's not really sure who she's telling it to. her father, or to herself. "that's not what i mean. how did you know where to send my birthday cards?"

it takes a moment, but raul looks at mia with a compilation of all his guilt. twenty one years worth of it. it's all there, coating his face like thick wax. 

""i loved you from the minute your mother told me she was pregnant," he says. "eres mi hija solomente."

mia doesn't want to hear about her father's affections for her. she doesn't want to feel the way his words force her to, how her stomach turns into marshmallow clouds and vanilla daydreams. 

"that's not what i asked you."

"it's what i'm telling you," raul leans forward on his elbows, without breaking eye contact. there's a glimmer of repentance in his eyes. "i could sit here repeating how sorry i am and how i wish things would've turned out differently. but, since i can't go back in time to fix anything, and you're only giving me an hour, i want to tell you a story."

mia nods, telling him to go on.

"i met your mother when i was young and stupid. she was - still is - the most beautiful girl i had ever seen. i'm sure she's told you before how we were in the beginning and how much we loved each other. back then i would've taken a bullet just to get her to notice me. she was smart to push me away. sometimes i wish it would have worked. but then i wouldn't be sitting here across from my daughter, begging for her to let me in her life." 

he lets out a small, half-hearted laugh. it's warm yet cold all at the same time. 

"anyways, after eddie was born, your mother and i drifted apart," he continues. mia notices how he looks when talking about her mom and becomes upset. she's never seen someone look so broken and so in love. 

"nothing that happened between us was her fault. i had promised her the world, you know, and i couldn't give it to her," raul looks down this time at the counter top. "i always put off getting married. and i know that killed her because she wanted, more than anything, something constant in her life. so i left. and i thought maybe that would be better - not for me, but for her. i hated that i hurt her so badly. i hated saying goodbye to my children. to you, mia. and i would go off each time after we separated and i did terrible things. i try to think back to it, and my mind just blanks. it's like parts of my memories were taken away. i became nothing.

i don't have any excuse for putting you or your brothers through that. or your mother. i was lost for a very long time and got involved in a lot of stupid things to try to fix myself. i don't know what would've happened if i stayed, but i can't keep living knowing that i have children whose lives are going on without me in them."

it's not quiet between them. quiet is peaceful. it's tranquility. the silence, however, is what lingers as mia's chest flutters and her ribs contract. it hurts. 

and as raul reaches forward and sets his hand on top of mia's, she wishes it didn't momentarily make the hurt go away.

"i'm sorry," he says. those two words have been uttered to her a hundred times by a hundred people but hearing it now is something she'll remember for the rest of her life. "i'm so sorry."

her focus on a white coffee cup set in front of her becomes blurry. she didn't realize that her eyes were glossing over, but when she blinks, a tear slips from the corners.

"did you ever open those cards i sent?"

she shakes her head no.

"you're smart, like your mother," he brushes the pad of his thumb in an arc over the back of mia's hand. "i never forgot about you. not for a second, mija."

she's scared to look at his face when she hears his voice break off. she doesn't want to see his eyes like hers - full of tears, but for a different reason. while he's feeling guilt and remorse, mia's heart is a cave to lost memories and moments she'll never get to have with the man whose genetic makeup account for half of her being. 

but something in her, something bright and basking in the sun, wills her to finally pick her gaze up despite the lulling tug of hurt and pain inside her heart cavity. she remembers something her mother told her once.

"it's easy to hold onto things. if someone hurts you, it's easy to feel hurt. but don't hold onto that, baby. you'll never be happy."

"okay," mia says after what feels like years of silence between her and her father. "i accept your apology."

"i know it doesn't make up for-"

"you're right, it doesn't. but i don't wanna pretend that i hate you, because i don't. i wanna forgive you. i want you in my life."

her father smiles like a sunrise morning. his smile says exactly what mia's thinking - that even though things aren't perfect, and there'll always be parts of their relationship that won't heal, it's a small step. and just like the change of the season, it'll bring along a new, beautiful spell.

"i'd like that a lot."