the sight of him and trying to commit him to memory. As if I could ever forget.
“I will be back.”
I nod and continue on my way, clinging to my composure as I go. I can do this. I’ve been through worse. I’ll get through this, too. When I return to my office, I text Abuela and Nona, telling them about Sofia’s situation and asking what we can do to help.
Abuela responds first. We’re on it, querida.
Thanks for letting us know, Nona adds.
Next question, Abuela says, is how are YOU?
I’m ok. Jason is going back to NY to do a surgery, but he said he’ll be back. I guess we’ll see.
Ay, mija, Abuela says, I know this is so hard, but that boy is falling for you. We all saw that. He’ll be back.
I hope you’re right.
When have you ever known me not to be?
You had to toss her a softball, Nona says in her usual dry way.
I laugh out loud, delighted as always by them. Love you guys. Thanks for always being there for me—and everyone else, too. I want to be you two when I grow up.
You’re already the best part of us, Nona says. We love you, too. We’ll get something going for Sofia.
I reply with the kiss-face emoji. Sofia won’t know what hit her when the two of them mobilize on her behalf.
I force myself to focus on work, to push everything else to the side and give my all to the job I’m being paid to do. I want to make Mr. Augustino glad he asked me to be the director. I work with HR to start the recruiting process for an assistant. I write a press release about one of our cardiologists winning a prestigious award and another for a nurse supervisor who’s retiring after forty years at the hospital. I interview them both and pour my heart and soul into telling their stories.
Both releases are picked up by various local media outlets, which is a win for me—and the hospital. I also contact Desiree Rivera to thank her for the wonderful story about Jason and his work at the clinic and suggest a follow-up on how well Mateo is doing. She agrees to pitch the idea to her producers.
Days pass in which I do little more than go through the motions—get up, get ready for work, stop at Juanita’s, go to the office, chat with Mona, devote all my attention to my work, sit through meetings, rinse and repeat. Several days after Jason left, I have dinner at the restaurant. I’m treated to the full rundown of fundraisers and efforts my grandmothers have put together to help Sofia, who is overwhelmed by their generosity. All the while, I try not to think about Jason, which is easier said than done.
I got one brief text from him the day he left—letting me know he arrived safely in New York and was heading into surgery. Since then? Nothing.
I tell myself he’s busy saving lives, doing what he was put on this earth to do. It’s the way things should be, even if I miss him more than I ever thought possible. I feel a little guilty about how badly I want him back in Miami, because I know his work and research would probably be better served if he stayed in New York. Guilt aside, though, I miss him so badly I ache with it.
On Friday, the board meets for the day as scheduled. According to Mona, who helped to prepare for the meeting, the matter of Dr. Jason Northrup is not on their agenda. I process that information with the sinking feeling inside that’s become all too familiar to me during this seemingly endless week.
The one bright spot is that I get my first real paycheck and stare at the details with a sense of disbelief. I always did well at the restaurant, but this is even better, especially after how hard I worked to get through school. I pay my rent, pay down a chunk of my credit card balance and wallow in the sense of accomplishment that comes with ridding myself of debt.
I spend the weekend alone, holed up in my apartment, licking my wounds and wondering if Jason meant it when he said he’d be back. I relive every minute we spent together, wallowing in details I never want to forget. I watch Desiree’s interview with him a hundred times and scroll through the photos I took of him playing dominoes with