My entire life is eaten up stopping my mother from doing things she isn't supposed to be doing. She absolutely refuses to let me listen to her doctor's orders, even going so far as to wait until I leave the room for some task or other before trying to get up to go to the bathroom on her own.

And as time goes on and she heals more, she's getting better at it.

But when the night comes and my mom is safely in bed, I have time to think about everything that happened with Enrique. I haven't been able to get ahold of him since I left three days ago, and I know he's busy, but something tells me this is more than that. This feels like avoidance.

I want nothing more than to storm back there and finish our conversation about why I'm walking on eggshells.

Actually, I want many things more than that, but if that's what it would take for him to pick up my calls again, I'd do it in a heartbeat.

Distracting myself seems like the best bet while I'm stuck here keeping my mom in check, so I grab my purse and make a mental list of everything we need from the store. But I don't make it all the way out the door before I crash into a pile of things and a note written in a hand I'd never mistake. It's Enrique's curly B and his n squished into the c of my name: Bianca.

My eyes dart around, hoping that I'll catch a glance of him. But there's no movement anywhere on my suburban street. My heart is racing in my chest, breathing becomes more difficult as I flip open the note.

He's finally talking to me.

Bianca,

I don't know how long you plan to be at home, so I thought you might want your things back.

Your husband,

Enrique.

He thought I might want my stuff back? I don't want my stuff back, I want him here!

I turn back into the house, the stability I'd carefully built up around my body crumbling as I slump down onto the floor.

Some chaotic version of myself takes over and dial Enrique's number without really thinking.

Three rings.

Half way through the third ring, the line clicks and my brain takes over, throwing the phone across the room and onto the couch.

What am I doing? I can't be calling him right now!

And it's still connected. Why did I throw it without disconnecting the call?

I don't know what I'm hoping for as I sprint across the room and dive roll onto the couch, flipping the phone to speaker.

It's not him, though.

Well, it is him talking, but it's just voicemail.

My heart falls.

I wasn't expecting that.

And then the voicemail beeps and I'm supposed to say something, but I can't.

I can't hang up, but I also can't bring myself to say anything. So I just stare down at it, saying absolutely nothing and shaking head to toe. What is there to say? How can I-?

"It's me," I squeak out finally. And then the line goes dead.

Did he get it? Did I get cut off?

My head swims and I lay down on the floor, trying to stop the room from spinning. What am I doing?

Sitting bolt upright makes my head spin again, but it's so very clear.

What am I doing? Why am I sitting around here on my butt instead of marching back there and telling him not to give up on me so easily. I'm worth it.

My finger grows heavy, small diamond band glittering in the low light.

Oh, right.

"'I might have said some things that weren't quite true in order to hurt you as much as I was hurting,' isn't exactly a good opening line," I reason.

"Why not?" Lorena says from the doorway.

"How long have you been there?" I ask, bolting to my feet. "And how did you get in?"

"Long enough," she answers. "And the door was literally open, B. Are you okay?"

"Not really," I admit. "I'm pretty sure I messed everything up. But he's not... I don't know what to do."

"You don't?" Her voice is gentle as she sits down on the edge of my couch.

"I guess I do, but I'm so scared, Lor. What if he says no?"

"What if he doesn't? Isn't it a no right now if you do nothing?"

She has a point.

"Look, I know I haven't been the biggest fan of this whole arrangement. And I know I've made my worries quite clear. And I might still be a little worried, but you should have seen yourself, Bianca. You belong there."

Of all the things I thought she would say, that might have been at the bottom.

"You have to make the move, Bianca. You're the one who left. You need to go back to that reunion and show up whoever it was he was trying to impress. Have fun, at least!"

Have fun, she says, like it's easy.

I'm halfway through my explanation of how a reunion with a guy who won't take your calls isn't overly fun when my phone rings.

It's one of those half rings where it blips off before my phone can decide who's calling. My throat is dry and my feet are stuck to the ground.

What just happened?

I fumble with the phone, unlocking it and waiting for a message to appear on the screen, but nothing comes. I try to call Enrique again, just in case, but there's no answer.

What there is, in a bright white box in the center of my screen, is a reminder about Enrique's High School Reunion.

In two hours.

I have to go.

"Lor can you-"

"Yes!" she shouts, knowing I need some help with my mother before I even ask her.

I race to my bedroom, throwing a haphazard bundle of clothes and shoes together, grabbing my wallet and a sweater, and running down the stairs with a tatted old backpack and a ponytail.

Grabbing my keys off the shelf, I race outside, unlocking the door and sliding into my car all in less than five minutes.

"Take this!" Lorena pushes a garment bag into my face. "You can thank us later."

I swear she winks as I throw the bag into the back seat and close the door.

"Where on earth are you going in such a rush?" Divya calls from behind me. "And were you planning to just run my car over or what?"

"Divya!" I race back to hug her. "You look lovely and refreshed. How was your honeymoon?"

"It was excellent, thank you."

A sleek black car turns onto the street and roars past us, heavy bass seeping out of the doors.

"I came to check on you."

"Why would you need to check on me?"

"Bianca. I was not born yesterday."

"Oh! The Enrique thing. Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Why are you bouncing?"

"Divya I- Look, I have to go."

"I just got back!"

"And I'll see you soon, but right now I have to go!" I pull her into a tight hug and race back to my vehicle.

"Where are you going?"

"To Enrique," Lorena says as though it's the simplest answer in the world.

"Enrique?" Her brows pull together.

"It's a long story I'm sure Lorena will fill you in on if she hasn't already. But I have to go. I can't sit here cooped up in this house and forget to live. I need to breathe. And I finally found a place I can do that and a person I could do it with and I didn't realize it until it collapsed in front of me and I-"

"Go," she says simply. "I'll move my car. Go."

"Thank you. I'll be back in no time! I-"

"Go!" she and Lorena shout together as Divya slips into her car and pulls it back onto the street to let me pass.

I rev the car into gear and sweep back into the street, quickly finding my way to the highway before I even realize I have no musical accompaniment.

But as soon as I get out of the city, the dulcet tones of smooth jazz start to crackle and I'm forced to tune to the saddest radio station of all time. Because, of course, my CD collection is still in my basement.

I'm in the middle of deciding if this strange country song is hilarious or awful when I round a corner and have to slam on my brakes to avoid crashing into the bright red pickup truck in front of me.

Once the adrenaline of almost crashing wears off, my breathing returns to normal, but my left leg is still shaking. I'm stuck in the middle of the highway and everything could be falling apart right this second, but I wouldn't even know because I can't check my phone while I'm driving.

Maybe just a peek, because I'm stopped.

No. I really should pay attention in case we ever start moving.

The man in front of me gets out of his vehicle and paces the shoulder, looking ahead and shaking his head before walking up the line of cars. All I can think is that if we start to move and he's not back yet, I will have to drive around him. Because I'm not sitting here and waiting for him to come back.

And then in no time at all, he's knocking on my window, motioning that I should roll it down. "Yeah?" I ask when the window is only open a crack.

"Construction up ahead. Shouldn't be more than ten minutes."

"Thanks." I wave and close the window, dulcet tones of the local mattress store ad playing in the background as I debate whether or not to risk my license over checking my phone while stopped on a highway.

Eventually, I focus on watching the cars coming from the other direction, waiting until the flow stops and then counting the moments until we're moving again. The clock says 3:47 pm and that means Enrique's already off work. And the reunion starts in just under 45 minutes.

My knee resumes its bouncing until finally we're allowed through the construction zone at an agonizingly slow pace. Emerging out the other side, I speed up as fast as the traffic will let me and drive just a little over the speed limit until I can finally see the town.

My heart tightens in my chest. Nothing about this makes me want to turn into town except for the fact that Enrique is there. And I have to find him.

And if he doesn't want to talk to me, well... Like Mama said, we've survived burnt rice before.

I turn into town and have to stop at every single intersection. How is it possible that I get stopped by all four stoplights in this town?

My heart is racing a quick staccato when I finally turn into the school parking lot.

What am I doing here? What if he doesn't want to see me? What if-?

But it's too late now. I'm already here.

But he isn't.

His car is gone.

But I refuse to let it be for nothing, so I climb back in the car and race past Mrs. Gallagher's house sporting some kind of green flag until I finally reach our driveway-Enrique's driveway. But his car isn't here either. I can't decide if I should hop out of the car or wait or turn around and cut my losses.

I'm debating the merits of sneaking around the back of the house to see if he left a door open when Mrs. Gallagher raps lightly on my window.

"I knew you'd be back dear," she says through a knowing smile as the window rolls down. "Take this."

"Wait!" I call, almost dropping the small bag she has placed in my hands. "Where is he?"

"I think you know, dear," is her only reply.