#now i can be traumatized just like my favorite little space guys <33 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sinsiriuslyemo · 6 years ago

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Hello all! Here is episode 5 of Cuba v DR!! I really hope you’re enjoying the season thus far!! So what’s going on with Lily? Will Rafael get his job back? And just what is going on with the Captain over at the 33? We’d love to hear your theories!!

EPISODE 5

The next day, you were writing a set of equations on the board for when your class came back from lunch. It felt so good to be back at work, some small form of normalcy that you’d welcomed back into your life after so much time away.

Even Lily had been excited to be back at school after getting her cast off. Her shoulder was doing so much better, pain levels down to minimal discomfort. You were relieved, especially considering the fact that she hardly ever took her pain meds anymore, even when her aches flared up. You were always comforted watching your daughter, the social butterfly and she seemed to adjust being back in school immediately. All her friends had made her cards and decorations for her return and you felt a warmth in your heart for those children.

As class progressed, you could see their eyes dulling, a disinterest in math very common among kids their age.

“How about we do something outside this class? We can learn outdoors too,” you offered.

The kids seemed to perk up at this. You grabbed some chalk from a drawer of your desk and led them outside. Once you reached the basketball court near the playground, you drew five large circles on the asphalt. Your students watched you with curiosity.

“Now we're going to keep it simple. There are five circles. And there are twenty six of you. Get into the circles in sets of five.”

The kids did as they were told until one girl was left standing outside the circles. She looked at you. “There's no room for me.”

“That's because you're the remainder. In division, I asked you to divide a number by something it was not evenly divisible by. That means there will be remainders, or leftover numbers. Now Sarah, because you were the remainder. You get to pick the numbers this time. However you wanna divide them.”

The kids all looked eager as they began to play, dividing into groups over and over, each of them having a turn to pick a number.

You smiled and watched them. You really loved your job, especially when you could use less conventional, more creative methods of teaching.

By the time the last bell rang, signaling the end of the day, you and the class were already walking back inside.

“Okay, homework; problems 1-30 on page 47!” you said over the dull noise of the kids packing up their stuff. You slowly began to pack up your own things and went down to the teacher’s lounge to check your mailbox before heading out to the playground to pick up Lily and the twins.

You found Lily playing with her friends, running around and giggling before she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw you. Her face fell.

“Mi amor, it's time to go home,” you said with a smile as you walked over and offered your hand to her.

Lily shook her head, brows furrowed with worry. “I don't want to go home,” she replied. “I wanna stay here.”

“You can’t stay here, silly goose. Come on, I’m making your favorite for dinner tonight,” you replied, waving for her to follow you.

“No,” she repeated, shaking her head. “I don't want to go.”

“Lily,” you said softly, crouching down to look at her. “Why don’t you wanna come home?”

“I just don't want to,” she answered. “I want to stay here.”

“Baby, you can’t stay here. How about we go get the twins and I can see if Chelsea and Ella wanna have a playdate?” you offered.

She thought for a long moment, brows again furrowing, looking so much like her father as she finally nodded. “Okay,” she mumbled.

“Okay, come on,” you said, reaching for her hand and walking with her to pick up the twins. You got into the car, prepared to send a text to Nevada about Lily’s odd behavior, but the carefree demeanor of the girl in the playground had come back as she talked with her siblings in the back seat. Smiling to yourself, you decided not to text your husband after all, writing it off as a fluke. Maybe she had just been missing her friends and didn’t want to stop playing.

When you got home, you called Chelsea and invited her and Ella over and sat down on the couch to grade papers before their arrival.

“Mami,” Fiona said as she crawled up into your lap. “Mami, cuddle?”

“Oh course my love,” you whispered with a smile. You'd made sure to give your kids even more attention if they needed it lately and pulled her close, stroking her hair. “I got you, sweet pea. Mami and papi will always keep you safe.”

You stayed holding your daughter for twenty minutes as you continued to grade tests until you heard the door. You set your papers aside and got up, opening the door to Chelsea and Ella.

“Hi Ella, hey Chels,” you said with a smile and nodded them in, Fiona still comfortably tucked in your arms.

“Hey, how are you guys doing?” Chelsea asked, smiling at Fiona.

In perhaps your darkest of times, Chelsea had proven to be a very good friend to the both of you. She’d stopped by the hospital with Ella a couple of times with care packages filled with Lily’s favorite cookies and books she could read, and had even helped you with housework and shuttling the twins to and from school so that you and Nevada could stay with Lily.

“We're getting better every day,” you answered, smiling.

You moved to sit with Chelsea on the couch as Fiona finally let go and followed Ella up the stairs to play with Lily and NJ.

When the kids were out of sight, and Chelsea looked over at you. “Okay, so how are you doing?” she asked, in case your previous answer had been for the kid’s benefit. You let out a big sigh.

“I'm a little worried about Lily… she refused to come home today until I promised a play date. She barely speaks to Nevada and won't leave my side. She's been really strange since it happened.”

“Maybe she’s a little more traumatized than you thought,” Chelsea replied softly. “That’s weird that she’s being distant with Nevada though, she’s always been a daddy’s girl.”

“I know, I thought she would have never left Nevada's side since the incident…”

“I’m so sorry,” Chelsea whispered, reaching to gently squeeze your hand. “How are you doing after everything?”

“I'm alright, shaken but alright. I just want to go back to normal...or as normal as they will ever be.” You let out another breath and rubbed your temples. “I don't want my kids to have to live like this.”

“I can’t imagine how hard it’s been on you guys,” Chelsea replied. “And the kids, it must’ve been so traumatizing for them to see their sister that way.”

“Fiona has nightmares, she cries and sleeps with us a lot...NJ seems fine but he's very protective of his sisters now. And Lily...I wish I knew where her head was at.”

“Have you guys tried to talk to her about it?” Chelsea inquired.

“A bit, we've been trying to give her space. She shuts down when we ask her too much. The kids all have appointments with a therapist next week, I'm just nervous.”

“Well, that’s good. Maybe talking to someone who deals with these kinds of trauma might help them process,” she replied. “I think you’re doing great, all things considered. And with time, you guys as a family will all get through this.”

You gave her a big hug, leaning your head on her shoulder and sighing. It felt good to have her support. She hugged you back just as enthusiastically and the two of you spent the next couple of hours on the couch, talking.

It felt nice to do normal things again, like gab with your girlfriend while the kids played upstairs. After a while Chelsea sighed softly.

“Well, we should get going. Ella has homework and I have to get her costume sewn for her recital this weekend,” she said, sticking her tongue out and crossing her eyes before she stood and walked to the bottom of the staircase. “Ella! Come on, babe, time to go home!”

“Mommy! Lily wants to come stay over! Can she?”

Ella ran down to her mother holding Lily's hand with a warm smile.

You frowned, trying not to look too heartbroken. “Lily it's a school night, lovie.”

“Yeah, not tonight girls, but maybe we can do a sleepover next weekend,” Chelsea added, immediately backing you up.

“Please, please!” Lily whined at you.

“No Lily, you have school. You can sleep over another time,” you said softly.

Lily's eyes filled with tears as she ran past Chelsea and clung to you. “Mami, please don't make me stay here!” she nearly screamed, startling you. You looked to Chelsea in a panic.

Your friend opened her mouth and looked back at you, unsure of how to respond.

“Lily, this your home, we’re your family,” you said, putting your foot down. “Tonight is not a good night for a sleepover, it’s a school night and you and Ella both have homework. I’m sorry, but no sleepover tonight.”

Lily glared at you before running upstairs and slamming her bedroom door. Sighing heavily, you ran your fingers through your hair and gave Chelsea a tight smile.

“It’ll get better,” she whispered to you as you walked her and Ella out. When you reached the door, she turned back to you. “Call me?”

You nodded and closed the door, leaning back against it as you thought about how you would approach the subject of Lily’s behavior with your husband.

The park wasn’t terribly crowded with most kids still in school, and Troy grinned as he listened to Fallon’s shrieks of delight from being pushed on the swing. Amber had needed some time to write and had asked Troy to go along with Sebastian and Cecile to the park with Fallon. She trusted her brother, her mother not so much and unfortunately her brother had somewhat of a soft spot for the women in their family, Cecile included. Troy was an additional chaperone.

“Up! Up!” Fallon screamed, trying to get higher up in the swing.

“Oh man, you are going to be a pilot someday aren't you? Or an acrobat,” Troy said with a grin, swinging her higher.

Cecile smiled coyly and hummed under her breath. “I think she’d be better served in the medical field or perhaps law.”

“She’s 13 months, mom. I think for the next few years it’s mermaids and superhero aspirations, right Fallon?” Sebastian said, smiling at his niece.

“Still, it’s never too early to teach her to aim higher,” Cecile said.

“She could be an Air Force pilot,” Troy offered.

“I meant higher in in class, dear,” Cecile replied. “There’s no reason for her to risk her life for peanuts when she can make more saving lives.”

“I lost many friends in the Air Force, it's an honorable life. Though I don't think she would fit into it. She's too kind hearted.” He took her out of the swing as she cuddled into him right away.

“Toy,” she said with a smile. She could never get the r correct.

“She’s only 13 months, everyone is kind-hearted at that age,” Sebastian said, taking his niece and pretending to fly her over the playground.

“Oh Troy,” Cecile said, smiling up at the ex soldier. “I’m glad you decided to come with us. I was hoping to have a little chat.”

“Well I was excited to meet you, Mrs. Woods. Amber is the woman I love, I want to be close with her family.”

“That’s nice,” she replied with a smile. “I was actually hoping you might talk to Amber about moving closer to family. With her and Fallon so far away, we never get to see them.”

“Amber's whole life is here ma'am, not to mention how stubborn she is. I couldn't convince her of anything. But...I can see if I talk her into visiting.”

“Visiting...that’s another way of saying we’ll see her once a year, if that. The schools are so much better upstate, and her life is wherever she chooses. A writer can work from anywhere, plus we’re only a train ride away into the city. Lots of people commute from upstate. Besides, with us close by, she’ll have more help with Fallon, access to some of the best schools in the country. It’s a smart move,” Cecile said.

“Amber has a support system here, and Fallon's father is here.”

“Fallon’s father wishes she’d never been born, I’ll bet. From what I’ve seen, both before and shortly after the wedding, his lifestyle is...less than savory. And she would have a support system closer to us,” Cecile answered, smiling over at Sebastian and Fallon playing together. “Just look at how much she adores her uncle.”

Troy looked up as Fallon giggled and smiled at Sebastian.

“I'll talk with her,” he said softly. “But I make no promises. She lives next to Fallon's grandmother. It's a huge help.”

“Well, she has you now, doesn’t she?” Cecile replied, looking back at him, still with an easy smile. “Who knows...in a few years, maybe she would ask you to adopt Fallon after the two of you are married.”

“I love her with all my heart, and I'll do anything I can to make her happy.”

“Of course you would,” Cecile replied, patting his shoulder. “And you seem like a smart enough young man to know that being close to her family, where Fallon will thrive best would make her very happy.”

“Mrs. Woods, with all due respect ma'am, your family is not Fallon's only family and if you continue to act like it is, you will isolate your only daughter.”

Cecile arched a perfectly sculpted brow at him. “Is that a threat young man?”

“No, ma'am. I have nothing but respect for you and your family. All I'm suggesting is that you'll catch more flies with honey than vinegar. Amber wants to have you in her life, give her a reason to keep you there.”

“And what is that supposed to mean? I give her plenty of reason,” Cecile replied. “I’m here, aren't I?”

“You're here yes, but it...upsets her when you make comments. Try to lessen the comments. You'd be surprised at how much she wants you to be in her life.”

“Comments?” Cecile looked genuinely surprised at the revelation. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You say things to try and help, I can see that. You're trying to help her. You're a good mother for that. But comments about the neighborhood, the food she feeds her daughter, Fallon speaking Spanish. Amber takes those things personally. She takes them as an attack, rather than as constructive criticism.”

“I think you’re over exaggerating,” Cecile replied with a sympathetic smile. “I appreciate you being overprotective, though I’m not so sure Amber would see it that way. She doesn’t appreciate men who think she can’t handle herself. Obviously you don’t know very much about mine and my daughter’s relationship. She learned to have a thick skin a very long time ago when she wanted to become a reporter. She doesn’t take anything personally, let alone things that are simple facts.”

“Right,” he said softly. “My apologies, Mrs. Woods.”

“So you’ll speak with her?” Cecile asked.

“I will try,” he replied.

“Good!” Cecile replied, smiling at him. “Now, let’s go get our sweet girl some lunch. All this excitement, I just bet she’s starving.”

The beeping of the oven from the back of the bakery made Roxie giddy and she walked briskly into the kitchen to retrieve her pie. Her urge to bake had increased since she’d started showing and she inhaled the appetizing scent as she opened the oven door. She pulled the pie out and set it down to cool, humming softly to herself.

“I wonder what kind of pie you'll like, it's honestly a very important question.” She patted her stomach and watched the steam coming from the pie as she spoke to her unborn child. “This one is apple,” she whispered softly. “Apples are delicious, not my favorite though. My favorite is the one I only make for special occasions. It’s one that will never go on the menu at Lavender because it’s only for me, and for you, and for your father.”

It had been quiet the entire morning at the bakery. For the first time since they opened, it had no one inside and she wasn't sure what to do with the time.

“Roxie?” One of the other workers, Mackenzie, walked up to her. “The piping on my cupcakes came out wrong...I'm sorry.” She flinched waiting for the exploding anger Roxie often had. Instead Roxie straightened herself and smiled, patting the girl on the shoulder.

“Accidents happen, just don't let it happen again, alright?”

Mackenzie nodded and smiled. “Thank you Roxie.”

“You're welcome, just them to me, my husband is stopping by and I'm sure he could use something to eat.”

“Oh, okay. Will do,” Mackenzie replied, going to grab the cupcakes for Roxie. The pregnant woman smiled and thanked her before she turned and walked out of the kitchen, giving one last glance to freshly baked pie.

Rafael walked through the doors a few minutes later and smiled at his wife, who was in the midst of putting together a box of cupcakes.

“Mi amor, you ready to go?” he asked, coming up to the counter.

“Just about ready,” she mused as she plucked a cupcake from the box to hand to him. “It's angelfood.”

“Honey, these cupcakes are really starting to settle in my midsection. I dunno that I can eat anymore,” he replied, looking up at her apologetically. “They look delicious, though. I’m sure I could unload them for you if you need me to.”

She smiled and nodded, placing the cupcake back into the box before she sealed it. “You know I don't mind what you look like, you're always sexy to me.”

“Yeah, but I don't feel sexy lately,” he replied, lowering his gaze. “But I’m glad you don’t mind what I look like, I guess. So, thank you.”

“I'm sorry you feel that way,” she said as she rubbed his arm gently. “From now on, I'll try to keep the extra calories out of the house.”

He just stared at her for a moment before he sighed, averting his eyes. “Okay, let me know when you’re ready to go then, I guess.”

“Ready now. Nothing I can't finish tomorrow.” She took up the box of cupcakes and followed Rafael to the door, turning to call back to her staff, “Mackenzie, I'm leaving now! Please watch the front!”

“Okay! Bye Roxie!”

“How’d it go today?” he asked as they walked out onto the sidewalk.

“Slow, I'm not used to an empty bakery, it gives me anxiety,” she said as she looked around. “Manhattan is never quiet, so where are they going today?” She thought for a moment before shaking her head.

“Well, Manhattan still isn’t quiet,” he mused as they walked through the sidewalk littered with pedestrians. “It is a weekday, most places are slow on weekdays. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Roxie shrugged. “How was your day?”

“Fine, I suppose. I’m not looking forward to Sunday dinner, though, I’ll tell you that,” he answered. “I know my mom is going to ask me how work is going and I hate lying to my mom.”

“Just tell her, Rafael she's your mother and she loves you. I hate watching this weigh on you.”

“I don’t wanna upset her,” he replied. “Besides, it’s only a matter of time before I’m back at work, so she doesn’t even have to find out.”

“Alright,” she said with a soft sigh. “Whatever you want, I'll support you. You're right, this should be over soon and you'll be back at work.”

“Hopefully,” he replied.

She smiled at him, taking his hand. “My love, we should do something, perhaps get a snack to eat.”

“Are you hungry?” he asked, threading his fingers between hers.

“I could eat. Mostly, I just want to spend some time just us having a normal day.”

“Okay, where do you wanna have lunch?” he asked.

“How about we go somewhere where I can have breakfast for lunch?”

“So, a diner?” he asked with a smirk.

“Or a McDonald's,” she said with a shrug.

He grimaced. “Ugh, I hate McDonalds, but that’s fine. If you want McDonalds, we can go, I'll just eat something when we get home.”

“A diner is fine love,” she cooed and kissed his cheek. “I just want something breakfast themed.”

“Whatever you want, honey. You’re the one eating for two. Though diner food is probably better for you and the baby than McDonalds.”

She chuckled and moved towards the diner, reaching for the door just as it swung open, narrowly missing her. Roxie looked at the man on a cellphone who strode past her, not even noticing he'd almost hit her. She clenched her fist.

“I hate working on my temper,” she grumbled.

“Excuse me!” Rafael called out over her. The man turned to look at him. “You almost hit my wife. Maybe you should watch you’re going.”

The man looked over and snorted a laugh. “Your wife should watch where she's standing then, buddy.”

“Rafael, it's alright,” she said gently.

“No, it’s not. I’m not your buddy, I’m not your pal and the city is not your playground. My wife is pregnant and you almost hit her. Now the decent thing to do would be to apologize,” Rafael replied, taking a step towards the other man.

“I'll call you back,” the man said, putting his phone away as he took a step to Rafael. “Look, man, it’s not my fault your girl’s got her belly poking out. I didn’t knock her up--”

“--What kind of man has zero consideration for a pregnant woman?” Rafael asked, arching a brow.

The man snorted and rolled his eyes. “Whatever, sorry for walking,” he sneered and turned to leave.

Rafael snorted and rolled his eyes as well, turning back to his wife and leading her into the diner.

“Are you okay?” he asked, looking down at her.

“Fine,” she said softly, then smiled. “Thank you for not fighting him,” she whispered and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Of course I wouldn’t fight him, I’d never make you bail me out of jail,” he replied through a smile as he placed a hand on her belly and kissed her lips. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. The door never hit me.”

“He’s still an asshole,” Rafael mumbled as they sat in a booth. “Wanna go for a walk after lunch? I read that being active throughout the pregnancy would help with labor.”

She grimaced but nodded. “I should,” she acknowledged.

“Yeah, especially if you want a homebirth without any pain meds, you’re gonna wanna be nice and limber,” he replied. “I also read about some perineal massages we could do if you’d like.”

“I'm going to veto that right now,” she said.

“Why? It’ll help avoid vaginal tearing,” he said as their waitress came up. “Can I have a water, please?”

“Sure thing, handsome. How about you, hun?” the older woman asked, turning to Roxie.

“Water with lemon, please.”

“Alright. Be right back,” their server replied, flashing them a smile before she walked away.

“So, is that a solid no on the perineal massages?” Rafael asked.

“That is such a strong no,” she said with a giggle.

“Okay, but you should do some exercises to strengthen your pelvic floor at least. I’ve been told tearing isn’t fun,” he replied.

“Your sister already gave me the kegel speech,” she said with a cringe.

“Oh, good. The birthing tub came in today, too. Where did you want me to set it up?” he asked.

“Wherever there is room,” she said honestly.

“I’ll have to make room no matter what, just tell me where you wanna give birth,” he replied, smirking softly at her.

“Bedroom, I would prefer.”

“Okay,” he answered. “Are you excited to have our baby?”

“Excited and nervous,” she said.

“Why nervous? You’re gonna be an amazing mom,” he replied.

“I don't think anyone is an amazing mum, we're all just, doing our best to make a good life for our children.”

“That’s what makes an amazing mom,” he replied. “I never said ‘perfect.’ I said amazing.”

She smiled at him gently. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he replied.

Izzy opened the door to Cleo the second she heard the knock, grinning at her friend with excited eyes. “I have news, the best news. Badass career woman news,” she announced as she grabbed Cleo by the wrist and yanked her inside.

“Ow,” Cleo groaned half-heartedly, rubbing her wrist. “What’s the news?”

“My paintings sold! They sold right away which means…” She did a little spin and whipped out a series of hundred dollar bills. “Which means I'm gonna take you to eat!” she sang in a cheerful voice.

“Nice! Congrats!” Cleo answered, trying to sound cheerful despite the fact that she was a little uncomfortable. She had always felt so when it came to money. To her, it was the root of all evil. “We can probably just order a vegan pizza or something.”

“Pizza sounds delicious, my treat, and we can get a bottle of wine, have some fun, our own little party.”

Cleo furrowed her brows. “Izzy, you know I don’t drink,” she replied softly. “How about some sparkling cider? Is that okay?”

“Can it be pomegranate instead of apple?”

“Sure!” Cleo replied in a chuckle. “So, what’s your next move?”

“Check out all the local artist calls and see what I can get into, I have to push 130% harder now.”

“Well, yeah,” Cleo replied with a chuckle as she got into her app and ordered their pizza online. “Do you eventually wanna open your own studio?”

“That is the goal, to open my own gallery of my work. But honestly? I've been thinking lately about illustrations for books. Fiona and NJ love when I draw my own storybook pages for them. Maybe I could be a children's book illustrator, ya know?”

“You should totally look into that,” Cleo replied, nodding as they left the apartment to go downstairs to the bodega for the cider. “Hey, doesn’t your sisters friend write books? You should try to ask her if she knows anyone that can help.”

Izzy considered the idea, smiling after a few moments. “Yeah! Yeah, I don't think I've ever really talked to her for more than a few seconds but it's worth a shot.”

“Yeah, why not, right? Can’t hurt to ask,” Cleo replied.

"Yeah,” Izzy replied with a grin. “That’s a really good idea,” she added as she opened the door to the bodega.

“I try,” Cleo answered with a grin.

Nevada got home and took off his jacket before he went upstairs. You were laying in bed, grading papers, not even looking up when he came in.

“Hey,” he said as he took off his shirt and his wife beater.

“Hey,” you mumbled as you made a note on one of your student’s papers. Sighing heavily, your eyes flickered to the edges of the paper. “Lily was acting up again today. I’m really worried...I think you should try to talk to her.”

“Okay,” he replied, letting his pants falling to his ankles and stepping out of them. “She up?”

“Yes, she’s mad at me because I wouldn't let her stay at Ella’s overnight. She begged me not to make her stay here.”

You glanced up at him before getting out of bed, covered in one of his shirts and cotton panties and walked up to where he stood. His eyes drifted over your form and he felt his heart quicken in his chest. He swallowed when your hand came up to lay flat against his bicep.

“I don’t know what to do anymore when she gets like this,” you whispered.

Nevada nodded and grabbed a clean pair of basketball shorts, pulling them on. “I’ll talk to her,” he said, dropping a kiss on your forehead.

He brushed past you and walked to Lily’s room, knocking on the door before he opened it.

“Hola princesa,” he said as he poked his head inside.

Lily frowned. “I don't want to talk to you,” she mumbled.

“Why not?” he asked.

She crossed her arms and turned away from him.

“Can you answer me, please?” Nevada asked, arching a brow.

“No.”

Nevada sighed heavily. “If you give me a good reason why you don’t wanna talk to me, I’ll leave you alone.”

“You do bad things,” she said softly.

“What bad things?” he asked.

She shrugged. “What do you do all day, papi?”

“I run a strip club, mi amor,” he replied, taking a small step into her room.

“What is that?”

Nevada’s brows shot up on his forehead and he walked into the room the rest of the way and sat down on her bed. “Um...it’s a place where men go to watch women dance.”

There was no way he was going into any more detail than that.

“Why?”

“Cause some men like that,” he replied with a shrug.

She seemed to regard him for a moment, eyes moving over each of the scars that littered his torso.

“Are you bad?”

“Am I bad? What do you mean bad?” he asked.

“Are you a bad person?”

“Bueno...I’m not perfect. Nobody is, pero...why? Do you think I’m a bad person?” He had wanted to say yes, he was a bad person. It was the truth, in the grand scheme of things anyway. But admitting that to his eight-year-old was an oversimplification that she just wouldn’t be able to understand at her age.

“You didn't say no,” she said softly.

“No, I didn’t say no. You’re right,” he said. “You think I’m a bad person?”

“I don't know,” she said honestly.

“Well, I know that I love you very much, and your brother and sister, and your mom, and Eddie. You guys are everything to me,” he replied.

“Okay,” she whispered softly.

“Your mom said you didn’t wanna sleep here,” he said softly. “What’s that about?”

“I don't want to talk anymore today,” she said softly, then hesitated. “Would you ever hurt us?”

“Never,” he answered. “I’d never hurt any of you. Not ever.”

She seemed to think this over. “Will you tell me how you and mami met?”

“Sure,” he replied, getting comfortable beside her. “I came to pick up Eddie from school one day, and she didn’t wanna let him go with me.”

Lily's face fell. “Because you were bad?” she whispered.

“No, because she didn’t know who I was,” he answered.

“And then what? How did you fall in love?” Her little eyes looked at him, desperate for something to cling on to. Some kind of fantasy that she could indulge in.

“Uhhh...” He thought for a moment and then shrugged. “I don’t know, we went out a couple times. We liked hanging out with each other, and I guess it just kinda happened.”

Again her face fell, turning away from him. “No more.”

“What’d I say?” he asked, furrowing his brows.

Was he supposed to have lied and make up an elaborate fairytale as to how he met you? As it was, he’d really only given her the rated G version. The truth was, he couldn’t even remember when he’d fallen in love with you.

“Come on, princesa, don‘t be like that,” he said after a long moment of silence.

She turned to him, eyes filled with tears and bottom lip trembling as she shook her head. “No. More.”

He sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose before he kissed the top of her head and got up.

“Whenever you wanna tell me what’s going on with you, I’m here okay?” he said.

She said nothing, the quiet sound of her sobs the only thing filling the room.

Walking out of her room, Nevada went back into your room and threw his arms up. “I don’t know what else to do.”

You looked at him sadly. “What did she say?” you asked softly.

“She asked what I did all day, then she asked if I was a bad person, and then she asked how we met,” he answered.

Your brows furrowed, confused. “Um...okay, that's definitely weird.” As you moved over to Nevada, you rubbed his back. “Well now we talk to the therapist and see if they can help. She went through a serious trauma, maybe this is just how she processes.”

“Maybe...maybe we both talk to her,” he replied. “I mean, maybe with you there, she’ll feel better about telling us what’s going on.”

You nodded. “Okay, let's try that tomorrow.” You kissed his neck and tugged him towards you. “You must be exhausted. Why don't you get some rest? I'm gonna finish grading, then I'll come to bed.”

“I’m fine,” he answered. “I’m gonna watch something for a little bit. Too revved up to go sleep yet,” he replied, reaching for the remote.

You nodded and kissed him softly before moving back to your side of the bed and picking up your papers. For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, sound from the TV the only noise in the room.

“Have you tried talking to her teacher?” Nevada asked.

You nodded and curled up beside him. “She's fine at school. I don't know what's going on with her.”

“Bueno, we’ll get to the bottom of it tomorrow,” he replied.

You nodded and leaned up, kissing his cheek and smiling at him. You looked tired, worried, a little worn down but still happy. “I love you,” you whispered.

“Love you too.”

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newssplashy · 6 years ago

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But that didn’t stop friends from speculating that she may have been secretly attempting to outdo the royal couple.

Rebecca Pauline Jampol didn’t plan her May 19 wedding to coincide with Prince Harry and Meghan Markle’s nuptials.

But that didn’t stop friends from speculating that she may have been secretly attempting to outdo the royal couple.

“It all makes sense: If Rebecca’s going to do anything, she’s going to do it over the top and make it a spectacular spectacle,” said Samer Fouad, who was part of Jampol’s 10-person bridal party. Jasmine Wahi, another attendant, added, “The royal wedding had heavy competition.”

Jampol’s wedding to Randy Hayes Harris Jr. was held in Newark, New Jersey’s historic Symphony Hall, an ornate concert space that seats 3,500. The couple’s 350 invitations were letter-pressed, by hand, on antique machines used by The Star-Ledger newspaper in the 1950s.

And to keep things interesting, Jampol arranged for a peacock to strut around a reception held in the concert hall’s palatial terrace ballroom while the bird’s owner, artist Ventiko, snapped shots of guests against a Dionysian backdrop of velvet, pearls and animal skulls. (This same peacock, named Dexter, gained notoriety this year when it was denied entry as an emotional-support animal for Ventiko on a United Airlines flight out of Newark.)

The scene was meant to evoke Jampol’s sense of what Newark, at its creative best, can look like. “I wanted this to be kind of a big thing for the community,” she said.

Jampol, 34, and Harris, 33, met in Newark in 2012. Their flair for the dramatic is not limited to social events. Jampol is a design professor at Rutgers University Newark and a modern art curator. With Wahi, who she calls her “art wife,” she runs a local nonprofit gallery, the Project for Empty Space, where the focus is social issues explored boldly and unflinchingly; sexual violence and immigration rights have been recent subjects.

Jampol’s local claims to fame also include the colorful 1.39-mile mural that runs along McCarter Highway, a major Newark thoroughfare. It’s the longest mural on the East Coast and the second-longest in the country, according to the Newark Downtown District, a nonprofit group dedicated to revitalizing the city’s downtown. Eighteen artists were hand-picked by Jampol in 2016 to tell visual stories about Newark’s culture and heritage.

Harris is a musician who leads a rock band, the Randy Haze Trio, and plays guitar in a jazz outfit, the Velvet Trio. He tours with rapper Justina Valentine, a cast member of MTV’s “Wild ‘N Out” comedy series, and moonlights as a carpenter and designer for art exhibitions, including the ones at the Project for Empty Space. Jampol and Harris have not been officially anointed the first couple of Newark’s art scene, but that may be only because such a designation does not exist.

“Rebecca and Randy are beautiful human beings inside and out,” said Fouad, a graphic designer on the Fine Arts faculty at Rutgers Newark. “They not only have each other’s back, they have everyone else’s in this community, too.” Harris, a Newark native, laid the groundwork for their synergetic reputation before the arrival of Jampol, who moved to Newark in 2004 from Charlottesville, Virginia, to study art at Rutgers. “Randy is like the son of Newark,” Jampol said. “It’s a this-is-his-city kind of thing.”

His magnetism first came to her attention at Hell’s Kitchen Lounge, the downtown watering hole where she was working as a bartender in 2012. “Randy was a patron at the time and I had just started my galleries,” she said, including a place on the Lower East Side of Manhattan that has since closed. Harris, whose gentle demeanor is expressed externally by a sweet smile, instantly caught her eye, though she and her then-boyfriend were in the eighth year of what would end up a 10-year relationship.

“We were attracted to each other right from the start,” Jampol said. “I felt I had to be careful around him because of it.” Harris was a Sunday night regular at Hell’s Kitchen out of necessity: He didn’t have cable and needed a place to watch “The Walking Dead.” But he soon started spending more time watching Jampol than the TV, he said. By the time he and his rock band were offered a residency playing Hell’s Kitchen on Sunday nights in 2013, he and Jampol were spending a lot of time together.

“We had the same group of friends,” said Harris, who was also in a relationship then, with the mother of his 7-year-old son, Ian. But the attraction with Jampol was undeniable. It followed him around the city to places like the Lincoln Park Music Festival, held every July, where he and Jampol spent the day together as friends in 2013, connecting through hip-hop, fried catfish and collards.

“Rebecca is super-ambitious, but she’s also caring and she makes people feel safe,” he said. “She gives them the confidence to do things they otherwise wouldn’t be able to do.” This confidence extended to him when, in 2014, he came back from a weekslong tour with his band single and made up his mind to pursue Jampol, who had also exited her longtime relationship.

Fouad, who has known Jampol for a decade, said Harris showed guts in his attempt at maneuvering past friendship. “When I first met Rebecca, I watched her pull up on a bright yellow Vespa,” Fouad said. “She took off her helmet and it was like it was happening in slow motion in a movie. She’s beautiful and has these long, gorgeous legs.” But she quickly seemed less smoldering than big sisterly once he got to know her. “I thought she was so hot, but she ended up taking care of me.”

It’s a familiar refrain among Newark artists. “One of the things that really attracted me to Rebecca is that, through her work and the way she does things, I started seeing all the potential in this city again,” Harris said. The mural especially, with its evocations of Newark’s past and present, is a reminder of her gift for projecting the spirit of the place he knows best. “She made me fall back in love with Newark.”

Still, it was an early date outside city limits both say clinched their romance. In 2014, Jill Wickenheiser, a friend of Jampol who works at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, arranged for the couple to see the band Interpol there.

“She knew I loved Interpol and that I had just started dating a musician,” Jampol said. “It was hosted at the museum’s Egyptian exhibit, and we drank whiskey and geeked out to Interpol. We had a total blast. That really sealed the deal for us.”

In 2015, Harris and Jampol moved into an apartment in a prewar building in Newark’s North Ward that checked off all Jampol’s boxes for the perfect home: “I love nostalgia, history and magnificence,” she said.

A trip to San Diego the following year for a friend’s wedding moved them closer to thoughts of marriage. But despite that happy occasion, “it had been a traumatic couple of days,” Harris said. The presidential election had just happened and the outcome was not the one he wanted. “I was bawling for, like, three days,” he said.

On a post-San Diego trip down the coast to Valle de Guadalupe, Mexico, in a rented car, Jampol soothed and sympathized. “He’s an emotional guy,” she said. “But it was a beautiful trip and we learned we travel well together. I think at that moment we realized this was it for us.”

The proposal that transpired a few months later, on Jampol’s 33rd birthday, Jan. 1, 2017, offered a preview of the pageant-like atmosphere that would resurface on their wedding day.

With a cluster of the locals Jampol calls their “framily,” the couple celebrated at their favorite Newark haunt, Jimenez Tobacco, a velvet-walled cigar bar opened by a Cuban woman decades ago and now run by her sons. “For a long time it was like a speakeasy, where you’d bring your own bottle of booze,” Jampol said. “Now they’ve got a liquor license and are a little more established. But they still do Prohibition-style cocktails. And it still feels like the most amazing hole-in-the-wall.” Harris signed on to DJ for the cigar bar birthday bash. But after the first few sets, he was overtaken by an urge to make the night more meaningful.

First it took the form of a performance. The Velvet Trio hadn’t yet formed, but Harris’ bandmates in that group were on hand. He recruited them to play a few songs with him including, for a final number, a cover of the Cure’s “Lovesong.”

“Rebecca was wearing a crown and I saw how beautiful she was looking and I was thinking about how happy she made me,” Harris said. “In my head I felt like the ground became kind of holy.” As the song wound down, Harris spun around, yanked a string out of the bar’s booze-soaked carpet, got down on one knee and tied the string around Jampol’s ring finger. With the entire birthday party assemblage watching, he proposed. The answer was an instant, enthusiastic yes. “I was stunned, but I was also so happy,” Jampol said.

When planning a wedding for 350, a track record for creating an artistic community can be useful. With Wahi, Jampol oversees the Gateway Project Spaces, a downtown artists’ collective with 56 studios attached to the Project for Empty Space. Besides artist Ventiko, a synthetic flower-maker, Mahtab Pedrami, was among the current or former tenants who lent their talents.

Pamela Jampol, Jampol’s mother, said the merging of so many artistic sensibilities for the occasion reflected her daughter’s longtime gift for bringing people together. “She’s always been ambitious in so many things, but especially in loving and taking good care of people.”

On May 19, the elder Jampol, a minister at Christ Community Church in Charlottesville, officiated at a short ceremony alongside Jampol’s father, Mark Jampol, and Harris’ parents, Madeline Juarbe Del Rios and Randy Hayes Harris Sr., as well as his stepfather, Roberto Del Rios. As Jampol walked with her father down the theater’s aisle to an stage covered in Pedrami’s flowers, cellist Daniel de Jesus, ethereal in white robes and pastel face paint, played and sang to the crowd. From the concert hall’s proscenium stage, 20 attendants looked on. Jampol, in a white lace dress with a 12-foot veil, and Harris, in rhinestone shoes and a paisley jacket, listened attentively as each parent spoke.

Harris Sr. recalled his son’s early-childhood flair for salsa and merengue dancing with his mother as she cooked, and ended with words of wisdom, advising the couple to keep dancing and always watch their footwork. “When life gives you a new step, be patient,” he said. But “do your dance and don’t let go.”

—

On This Day

When: May 19, 2018.

Where: Newark Symphony Hall.

Finery for a cause: Jampol bought her Chantilly lace dress at Church Street Bridal in Lynchburg, Virginia, a boutique that sells donated dresses to raise money for women’s shelters. Harris supported local businesses by wearing a wedding shirt handmade by Gambert Shirts in Newark’s Ironbound district.

Fit for royalty: A buffet dinner included a raw bar with lobster, crab and oysters, plus carving stations with pepper-crusted filet of beef and stuffed pork loin.

Lots of dancing: James Gibbs III, founder of the Brick City Soul Collective, led a seven-piece funk and R&B band at the reception in the terrace ballroom. The couple’s first dance was to the Bill Withers’ classic “Lovely Day.”

Smokin’ afterparty: After the reception, the couple passed out personalized cigars at Jimenez Tobacco. Musician friends, including rapper Justina Valentine, who was among Harris’ attendants, were on hand. The party continued until 1:30 a.m., then moved to another Newark location, Hell’s Kitchen Lounge.

This article originally appeared in The New York Times.

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