Yayo ~ Isaac Garcia

Chapter 18

Sitting at the Thanksgiving table, I anxiously twirled a strand of hair around my finger, awaiting Katherine to place the last pot of food. My mind raced, contemplating what I could share when it was my turn to express gratitude. The room buzzed with cheerful chatter, but my thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind. What could I be thankful for in this moment of confusion and heartache?

Gathering my courage, I decided to improvise my expression of gratitude. As I looked up, scanning the room, my eyes unintentionally locked onto Isaac. Despite the festive atmosphere, his forced smile betrayed a deeper, hidden turmoil. A pang of empathy washed over me, and I found myself caught between the layers of festivity and the underlying struggles of the heart.

Uncle Richard, sensing the underlying tension, smoothly concocted a reason to engage in a private conversation with me. He discreetly signaled towards a more secluded corner, creating a momentary escape from the lively Thanksgiving atmosphere.

"I wanted to talk to you about something," Uncle Richard began tentatively, a noticeable uneasiness lingering in the air.

I cut him off before he could delve deeper into a conversation I was reluctant to entertain. "If this is about how I'm doing or the accident, drop it," I said, my voice monotone, masking the internal panic.

He offered a tight smile, acknowledging my request but swiftly steering the conversation into unexpected territory. "I consulted a lawyer about getting custody," he dropped the bomb, leaving me stunned.

As he continued, revealing that he had spoken to Jackie and was considering approaching us together about the matter, I remained silent, processing the weight of his words. Finally, he shifted the focus to what he believed he could offer. "You're a city girl. You need your ice skating halls, your museums, theater. I could give that to you, both of you," he proposed.

I paused for a moment, absorbing his offer before responding. "But it will never be the same again. I could go back there, change back into that city girl, or change my mind and leave this shitty but quietly comforting place behind. But New York will never be the same without them."

Isaac's eyes lingered on me from afar as Uncle Richard and I engaged in a weighty conversation. Uncle Richard continued, attempting to persuade me with an offer of a new life, a new family.

"Just think about it," he urged. "Your memories of New York might be shattered in pieces, but we could build something new. As a family – me, Jackie, and you."

I met Isaac's gaze briefly, feeling the weight of his unspoken concern, before turning my attention back to Uncle Richard. "If I'll go depends on Jackie. She's my top priority. But, on the other hand, I still have some new people and things here that I wouldn't like to abandon," I responded with a firm resolve, the tension in the air palpable. "I'll think about it."

I returned to my seat, the heavy conversation lingering in the air as the Thanksgiving feast was about to commence. The aroma of home-cooked dishes filled the room, but my thoughts remained entangled in the complexities of the choices that lay ahead. As we gathered around the table, Uncle Richard's proposition and Isaac's watchful gaze continued to tug at the edges of my consciousness. The warmth of family and the Thanksgiving meal couldn't completely dispel the weight of the decisions that awaited.

I passed the potatoes to Isaac, our eyes briefly locking in a silent exchange. The concern in his gaze mirrored the emotions that had been left unspoken for the past week. It was a fleeting connection, a hint of what once existed between us. As the dishes circulated around the table, the unspoken tension lingered, a reminder of the fractured bond that had yet to find resolution.

I couldn't help but admire Isaac as he laughed at something Danny said. His genuine smile and the way his eyes lit up held a certain charm that lingered in my thoughts. Despite the current distance between us, those moments of shared laughter remained engraved in my memory, creating a bittersweet ache.