More Than Words

He disappeared into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

When he got into bed, Nina was fighting to keep her eyes open. “Did something happen?” she asked.

Tim kissed her cheek. “I wanted to remind myself how much I love you.”

Nina wondered what he meant by that but was too tired to ask. “Okay,” she said. “I love you, too.”

She turned toward him and tucked her head under his chin, and they lay together, T-shirt to T-shirt, arms overlapping until they both fell asleep.

* * *

• • •

The next morning, Nina asked Tim what she’d been wondering the night before. “Why did you have to remember you loved me?” she asked as she handed him an omelet. She’d made it just the way he liked it—sautéed onions, cheddar cheese, not at all runny.

“Is that what I said?” Tim answered, carefully cutting his omelet with the side of his fork. “I was drunk. I just missed you.” He took a bite. “This is delicious.”

Nina let it go, but the thing about Tim was that he didn’t lie when he was drunk; he didn’t mess up his words. He’d said what he’d meant. Something had happened last night.

Nina wondered if this was the first time Tim was hiding the truth from her, or if it had happened before and this was just the first time she’d noticed. She really hoped not. But she wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

50

Later that day, around lunchtime, Nina called Leslie.

“So Tim,” she said, when Leslie picked up. “Something’s off.”

“What do you mean?” Leslie said. “I’m in the deli, grabbing a salad, so if you hear weird noises in the background, that’s why. What happened?”

Nina looked out the window of her apartment, watching people walk down Jay Street, some alone, some in groups, some in pairs. “He came over last night, late, to remind himself that he loves me. That’s what he said. He shrugged it off this morning, but I can’t help but think he shouldn’t have to remind himself, you know? And why won’t he tell me what made him need reminding? It’s just . . . it’s weird. Something weird is going on.”

Leslie was quiet for a moment. “Well, that does sound a little strange, but not too horrible. Is that all that’s worrying you?”

It wasn’t. Nina knew it wasn’t. “I just . . . I feel like he expects me to be the Nina he’s known his whole life, but I don’t even know if she was real. I was making decisions based on how my father would see me. I don’t even know what I would have done differently, if I hadn’t been trained to think that way. Would I have chosen a different school? A different profession? Would I have moved to Boston with you or stayed in D.C.? Or joined the Peace Corps? Or learned to play jazz piano? I don’t know who I would have been. I want to figure all of that out . . . and I think Tim just wants me to be the same. The person who reflects her father’s choices in all of hers, that’s who Tim thinks I am.”

A pile of plates clattered in the deli. “Is this still about the night you wanted to have sex and he made you feel bad about it?”

“It’s that he’s so predictable.” Nina paced around her living room. “And he wants me to be. And I don’t feel predictable right now. Can I marry him if I feel this way?”

“Well,” Leslie said, serious now. “Things have changed in your world. A lot. There’s so much that’s up in the air. Maybe this just isn’t the time to agree to anything so momentous. Isn’t that a rule that people quote? You’re not supposed to make any major changes for at least six months after a loved one dies.”

Nina sighed. “Maybe it’ll all be fine. But . . . I’d told him we shouldn’t tell anyone we’re engaged because it felt strange making that kind of announcement so soon after my dad died. And now more time has passed and I still don’t want to say anything to anyone.”

Nina heard the register at the deli chime. “Well,” Leslie said, “that doesn’t seem like the best sign.”

“My heart is so messed up these days. My brain, too. They’re just . . . they’re confused.”

“Then maybe give yourself some more time,” Leslie said. “You’ll know when it’s time to know.”

Nina flopped down on her couch and closed her eyes. “How Zen of you,” she said.

Leslie laughed again. “Yeah, not my usual behavior. Look, I’ve gotta go, but I’ll call you later.”

“Okay,” Nina said. “Hugs to everyone.”

“You got it.”

Leslie clicked off, and Nina stayed lying on her couch. She wanted to feel so filled with love for Tim that she didn’t question it. That it bubbled over and made every aspect of her life happier.

And she wanted to be that for him, too.

But she was worried. She was worried it wasn’t the case for either of them. And if it wasn’t, did that mean that there was even more wrong with their relationship than just Nina trying to put herself back together after her father died? She wanted to feel as sure about marrying Tim as she did about the fact that she and Leslie would always be there for each other whenever they needed to be.

But she wasn’t.

51

That night, Nina headed over to campaign headquarters at nine thirty. Rafael had changed the time on her, asking her to wait until the new speechwriter went home so he wouldn’t feel like Rafael didn’t like his work. Nina thought it was kind of Rafael. But it also meant that a lot of the office would be gone by the time Nina got there. She’d have to schedule another visit if she wanted to see the whole team.

Nina’s key card didn’t work anymore, so she texted Rafael to let her in. He was wearing a T-shirt that said: Hedgehogs: Why don’t they just share the hedge? Nina laughed when she saw it. Rafael flashed a megawatt smile at her.

“Funny, right?” he asked.

“Funny,” she confirmed. She’d forgotten just how handsome he was. Just how good it made her feel to walk next to him.

They sat down in the conference room off the elevator lobby, and even though in some ways it seemed like nothing had changed in the last three weeks, everything had. Nina wasn’t a staffer anymore. Now she and Rafael were equals. Now they were friends. She opened up her laptop and showed him her notes.

“Here’s what I was thinking,” she said. “We take away this part about the benefits of magnet schools that reads as a bit generic, and instead we replace it with your own experiences at Bronx Science. And maybe we contrast your experience with your cousin Kevin’s, about how you ended up in law school, and he ended up in prison.”

Rafael scratched the stubble on his chin. “You think we’re okay focusing on the Irish side of my family? I know that being the first Latino mayor is something Mac wants to message. We’ve been sticking to the refugee script, Operation Peter Pan, the bootstraps, the Spanish.”

Nina looked at him. The notion struck her that underneath his T-shirt, he was naked. Which of course he was. Everyone was naked under their clothing. But once the thought was in her mind, Nina got stuck on it.

“Do you really think Kevin is a good idea?” Rafael continued.

Nina hadn’t realized seeing him again would be this hard, this distracting. “Well,” she said, forcing herself to refocus. “What do you want to message? How do you want to be known?” She knew bringing up his cousin Kevin was a risk. Perhaps one she wouldn’t have suggested if she were still working for the campaign. Maybe one that wouldn’t have occurred to her if she hadn’t remembered the day her mother told her that she was half Lukas, too. “If you want to be known as the first Latino mayor and nothing else, we can scrap Kevin. But if you don’t . . . you’re in the general now. It’s your chance to show the voters who you are.”

Rafael looked at her. “This is why we need you back,” he said.

Nina laughed.

“No, I’m serious,” he said. “No one has asked me that. They’ve just told me how they think I’ll best win elections. What part of me it makes sense to showcase to gain votes. You make me think, Nina.”

Nina looked at him seriously. “I did that, too, though. I focused your speeches on what Mac wanted. We crafted your political persona out of pieces of who you were, stressing some aspects of your biography and ignoring others.”

“So why aren’t you anymore?” Rafael asked her, resting his chin in his hand, his eyes focused on only her.

Their intensity made her shiver. “I’ve been thinking about that since my dad died,” Nina said, bringing her thoughts together as the words exited her mouth, “and . . . I don’t know if that’s the best way to live a life. It might be the best way to win an election or create a . . . I don’t know . . . an urban legend. But is it the best way to live?”

Rafael got up from his spot across the table from her and sat down in the seat next to Nina. “What happened?” he asked. He was so close now. Close enough to touch. She wouldn’t touch him, though.

Nina looked back at the document in front of her. “We should finish this speech,” she said.

Rafael studied her. Nina felt like she was under a microscope. “Let’s do two versions,” he finally said. “One using both sides of my heritage, and one just the Cuban side. I’ll think about how I want to be known tonight and I’ll decide tomorrow.”