Chapter 33
Melting snow dripped from the roof of the yoga studio as Manny peered into the window, searching for Della among the crowd of women. She wasn’t there, but one of the women caught sight of Manny and popped her head out the door. “Della’s washing clothes.” She pointed down the street to Eva’s Laundromat.
Manny nodded. “Thanks.” He had never stepped inside Eva’s, but its chemical scent had overpowered him every time he walked by. This morning, when he walked inside, the air teased him—soothing him with its warmth and choking him with fragrances.
With a hand over his nose, he scanned the rows of noisy machines before he caught sight of Della, reading a book in the corner. As he walked toward her, she looked at him and smiled. Then she noticed his face and frowned. She already knew.
“Hi,” he said.
She moved a stack of folded laundry off the chair beside her. “Have a seat.”
“Thanks.” He sat beside her, and the words he’d rehearsed suddenly seemed entirely unsuitable. He couldn’t express how he felt in English . . . or any other language.
Della stacked and re-stacked her folded towels. “What are you doing here, Manny?”
His mouth felt so dry. “I need to talk to you.”
“You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you? In the Laundromat, no less.”
Ugh. She was right, but it had to be done. No matter where they were. He couldn’t let it continue to fester inside him or keep her guessing. He took her hand. “I’m sorry, Della. You’re smart, beautiful, and talented. You deserve a man who’s completely dedicated to you, and I’m sorry I can’t be that man.”
She snatched her hand away. “I should have seen this coming. You took advantage of me. How stupid was I to hire your ex-girlfriend? I’ve been paying the woman who’s going to replace me—who replaced me before I even knew it.”
From his point of view, it was the other way around. It was Della who failed to replace Celia, but he wasn’t going to argue with her. He had tried his best to love her, this woman who was, according to his mother, the best woman in the world for him. “I didn’t mean for her to replace you.”
She turned away, dabbing at her eyes with one of her clean towels. “I don’t know why this always happens to me. What’s wrong with me?”
This had happened before? “You never told me about any other time this happened to you.” He had heard about her boyfriend who went back to Cape Verde, though. They had almost discussed him once on the bus—the day they discovered André.
“What’s the point? Someone else left me, just like you’re about to. It’s ancient history.” She got up, walked over to one of the machines along the wall, pulled out her dry clothes, and placed them in a wheeled cart.
He followed along behind her. “Did he leave you or did he leave the country?”
She pushed the cart toward a table and began folding them. “Both. Roberto got his degree in business, so when he graduated, his father wanted him to work for their family business. They run an art gallery on the island of Santiago. I suppose it was only right that he should help his father. It’s ridiculous, though. He’s been there almost a year now, which means his visa status is going to get all messed up, and despite all his hard work, sales have only improved a little. What does his father expect? Of all the places to open an art gallery.” She kept talking as she folded each piece, slapping the fabric down against the table with force.
Perhaps this Roberto was one of the reasons Manny never felt as close to Della as he wished. It sounded like he’d left only a few months before Manny arrived. “So, you still keep in touch with him?”
Her folding slowed, but she didn’t look him in the eye. “We e-mail back and forth. I’m expecting a message from him now, in fact. Not that it’ll do me any good to keep reading them.”
He leaned against the table. “How often does he write?”
She bit her bottom lip and looked away. “Every day.”
“Every day?” That had to mean Della was still serious about this guy. Here Manny had felt guilty for nothing. This whole time, Della had been two-timing him.
“Yes,” Della said, putting her phone away, “but it doesn’t mean anything.”
Manny folded his arms across his chest. “If it doesn’t mean anything, why didn’t you mention it before?”
She tilted her head to the side and looked up from the clothes she was folding. “I guess it wasn’t very honest of me. I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted.” He grinned. “Have you ever thought of a vacation to visit him?”
“You know I can’t afford a vacation, Manny.” Her volume had dropped to a normal conversation level.
That was the truth. College here was expensive. Her books alone would cost half a month of his salary. “Maybe Roberto could come here then.”
She flashed him the tiniest hint of a smile. “That would solve his visa problem.”
“Remember how much my sales increased after you gave me all that business advice?”
She sniffled. “Yes, but he’d never be able to sell online in Cape Verde as successfully as you do here.”
He nodded, knowing the drawbacks of the Cape Verdean postal system.
She folded the rest of her clothes and put them in her basket. Then she turned to him, her mouth open and eyes wide. “Unless he brought some artwork across on the airplane. I could help him sell it here.” She went to get another load of clothes out of the machines, lighter on her feet this time. “His father might like that idea.”
Manny brought her the cart, happy to see that she was already planning her life without him. “Will you forgive me?”
She stopped, her hand on the open door of the dryer. “Yes, Manny. I suppose it couldn’t be helped. Love is complicated.”
She spoke the truth. Love was complicated, and now that he had found Celia again, it was more complicated than ever.