Eyes on You

Isabel

The plane touched down in Puerto Rico and I felt a wave of nervousness hit me.  The last time I'd been here I was twelve years old and had just gone through a hurricane.  I'd been a scared little girl, slipping between the cracks.

I had changed a lot since I'd been here, but in some ways I was the same.  I hated to admit it, but I was still a scared little girl.  I was terrified that the rest of my life I'd be stuck in this depression and regret.  Would it get easier over time, knowing I'd given my baby away?  Would I be able to meet with the Hernandezes and not completely lose it?

I'd hated my dad for the way he'd dealt with my mother's death.  He'd become an alcoholic and I could feel my body craving the same release.  After my first meeting with the Hernandezes I'd gone straight for the bottle.  Lin and Pippa had stopped me, but my body wanted it.  I knew I'd have to fight the urge, and that terrified me too.

My dad reached over and squeezed my hand as our plane taxied to our terminal.  I let out a breath and squeezed back.  I was nervous about seeing my old friends, my old neighborhood, and especially about meeting my stepmother, stepsister, and half brother.  Dad had been telling me all about them.  His wife was a teacher and her daughter, Brissa, was about my age.  She was into soccer, or football, as they called it here.  Carlos, their son, was growing fast and about 18 months old.

We got our luggage and caught a taxi back home.  The house we'd lived in had been condemned after the hurricane and eventually knocked down, along with most other houses in our old neighborhood.  New houses had been built and Dad lived on the same street.

"Everyone's very excited to meet you," he said as we pulled up to a cheery-looking little white house.  "They're nervous too."

"Nervous?" I asked, wondering what they had to be nervous about.  This was their home and their family.  I was the outsider, worried about getting judged.

"Yes," he said, pulling my suitcase and then his out of the trunk.  "They're afraid you might not like them."

I guess I had made up my mind that I didn't like them as soon as I'd heard about them.  It had seemed like Dad had just abandoned Luna and me and started fresh with a new family.  I'd been hurt for a long time.  I was still hurt.  Why could Dad get himself together for Guadalupe and their kids, but not for me and Luna?  Were we not good enough?

Dad squeezed my shoulder as we walked up the porch.  He opened the screen door, then pushed the main door open.  A lady in her early 40's stood there, holding a toddler, and a girl my age sat on the couch close by, thumbing through her phone.

"Isabel!" the woman greeted me, holding out her free arm.  I really wasn't a hugger, but I felt like I probably should in this instance.  I was in her home, after all. 

"Hi," I replied.

"I'm Guadalupe, your dad's wife," she smiled at me.  Her dark brown eyes sparkled with happiness.  "Welcome.  How was your flight?"

"It was fine," I told her, adjusting my backpack nervously.  She looked down at her son, who had a few fingers in his mouth.

"This is Carlos," she said proudly as my dad walked over and kissed him on the head.  He reached for Dad and was transferred over.  He continued to shower Carlos with kisses.  I wondered if he'd done the same thing to me when I was a baby.

"Carlos, this is your big sister Isabel," he told him gently.  "Can you say hi?"

"Hi," he said shyly, waving his hand.  Then he ducked his face into the crook of of Dad's neck.

"Hi Carlos," I said kindly.  Guadalupe's daughter stole a glance or two at me, but mostly kept her attention on her phone like any typical teenager.