The Thrill Is Gone

“Why do you have to be such a jerk for? He’s fucking trying his best to fit in, and every single time you’re around him, you make some snarky remark! Do you get off on that shit? Is that why you’re constantly being such a fucking dick to him?”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” bellowed Raphael, his frame towering over his younger sister’s. “I'm not Luis for you to talk to me like that.”

“I know you’re not Luis,” she snapped, glaring harshly at him. “Luis isn’t being an asshole about all this. He’s being friendly, which is exactly what you should be doing! But no, you’re too cool to be nice to Henry. You’re too good to act civil around him!”

“I'm not gonna stand around and have you talk to me like this. I'm your older brother!”

“Then act like it!” she exclaimed. “You’re thirty-seven years old, Rafa! You’re too old to be acting like such a jerk, and yes, I understand that you worry about me, I get that you just want to make sure that I'm alright, but treating my boyfriend like this isn’t right!”

“He’s not good for you though!”

“And who are you to tell me what’s good for me? I'm not ten years old anymore. I'm not a teenager! I'm twenty-four years old, Rafa. Twenty-four! I'm a grown woman, and I know what’s good and I know what’s bad for me. And I sure as hell know that Henry is good for me.”

“I'm sure that’s what all those other girls thought when they were with him! I'm sure they all thought he was good for them, and look at how he treated them, look at how he ran around with one, and then ran around with another, and then with the drinking and the smoking!”

Her face contorted into one of disgust. “Did you research him?”

“I did.” He said, defensively. “What of it? Huh? What’s wrong with me wanting to know more about the guy that my baby sister’s running around with? I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. I don’t think anyone other than you would think there’s anything wrong with that.”

“Most of the things the internet says about him are lies! Most of the things the internet says about me are lies! You can’t trust what the Daily Mail or News of the World or any other of those damn tabloids say about us. Okay? If you want to know how he is, ask me. I know him better than anyone.”

“That’s what you think,” he muttered.

“That’s what I know,” she said, pointedly. “I know what he’s like when he’s out of the public light; I know what he’s like when he’s not in front of his dad or his brother or the rest of his family or his friends! And you know what? He’s incredible! I'm not gonna say he’s perfect, because he’s not. Then again, no one is. He can be a little obnoxious, that’s true, he can be a bit full of himself sometimes, and sometimes he says things that make me just stop and stare at him and wonder if he’s okay, but there’s no one with a heart as big as him, there’s no one more protective or caring or loving than Henry! He’s a fierce lover! And don’t look at me like that; I'm not talking about sex, though, if I was, that description would fit as well. When I say he’s a fierce lover, I mean that there is nothing he wouldn’t do for me. I mean that he loves and respects me every bit as much as I love and respect him. And maybe . . . maybe that’s not enough for you, maybe you wish he was more like Joaquin - and don’t deny it! Because I know it’s true! You loved Joaquin. You were the one that got the most upset when I told you we broke up. But guess what? I'm not with Joaquin anymore! And the truth is that I didn’t even love him.”

“That’s not true! You were all in love with him.”

She shook her head. “I though I did. I really, truly, honestly thought that was love, but now, that I know what love is, now that I have Henry, I know that all I ever felt for Joaquin was intense like. I intensely liked him. That was it. But I didn’t love him. He wasn’t the kind of guy for me. He was too much like . . .”

“Too much like what?” asked Raphael. “What was he too much like?”

“He was too much like you.” Paulina finished her statement, her gaze remaining firm.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” he questioned, gruffly. “Is that your way of saying you hate me?”

“Don’t be an idiot. I love you, Rafa. I really do, but you . . . well you’re not the kind of man that I would want to share my life with. And I know that probably sounds like an insult, it’s not, you’re just . . . you’re too old school. You believe that a woman’s place is in the home, you made your wife stop working so that she could be a housewife and look after the kids and look after you, and Joaquin was exactly like that. And I'm not saying that’s a horrible thing, that works for you and Teresa, she was also raised to think that way, but I wasn’t. Mom and dad and the rest of you taught me that I could do whatever the hell I wanted, and I am doing what I want. So respect that. Respect my decision to be with Henry, because if you think that I'm just gonna stand around and watch you insult him, then you’ve got another fucking thing coming, because no one, and I mean no one, messes with my güerito. I will throw down with anyone for him. Be it the press, be it those stuck up society bitches that are always following us around whenever we’re at clubs or society events, or be it you. My güerito is my güerito. Y lo tengo metido en el alma. Entonces no te metas, por que si te chingo, te chingo. (And I have him in my soul. So don’t mess with him, don’t mess with us, because if I have to fight with you, I will fuck you up.)” She paused, waiting for him to snap at her, to tell her off for having told him off, but Raphael just stood there, dumbfounded. “I'm not expecting you to best friends with him,” she said in a softer tone. “But I am expecting you to show the manners that mom and dad taught us. I expect you to be civil and charming. So when you go outside, you better fucking have a new attitude, because I'm not joking about throwing down with you if you don’t.”

He stared at her in disbelief, unable to believe that he’d pissed his sister off so much that she’d talked to him like that. In all the years of her life, she had never raised her voice at him in such a manner, she had never spoken to him like that, that was how she talked with Luis, sometimes Adrian if he pissed her off enough, but never to Raphael. To him, she always minded herself, she was always polite, it was something to do with the age difference, with the fact that he was so grown up, and reminded her so much of her dad, but apparently, not even that was enough to save him from being told off. He’d made her furious, he’d insulted what was dearest to her heart, and he’d been treated accordingly.

“Are you honestly so serious about him that you’d fight with me?”

“I’d fight anyone for him.” She said without hesitation. “So if you don’t want to be on bad terms with me, I suggest you get on better terms with him, because regardless of whether or not you like it, he’s not going anywhere.”

“But he’s –”

“I don’t give a fuck about what you think he may or may not be. You don’t know him. Okay? You don’t know a damn thing about him. All you know is what you’ve read on the internet. That’s it. So get off your fucking high horse, and go out there and be nice to my boyfriend. You got that? You go out there and you humor him while he tries to carry on a conversation in Spanish, because he didn’t have to go out of his way to learn the language, not with the schedule he has. But he did it, because he wanted to make an effort to fit in with our family. So let him fit in!” Paulina didn’t wait for her brother to collect his thoughts, she simply grabbed the container that had been her pretense to get Raphael alone, and then gruffly said, “What the fuck are you waiting for? I already got dad’s blood pressure medicine so let’s get going. Why you looking at me like that? Don’t look at me like I did something wrong. You deserved what you got. So don’t you dare walk out looking like you just got told off, because you are not ruining this night for me!”

And with that said, she threw the passenger door open, and stepped outside, the cool evening air nipping at her cheeks. She ran a hand along the front of her dress, hoping to smooth away any wrinkles that might have spring into being while she was stuck in the minibus, telling Raphael off. Once she was pleased with her appearance, she took in a deep breath, willing herself to appear every bit as calm and collected as when she’d left the ballroom to fetch her father’s medicine, and when Raphael followed her out, and shut the door behind him, Paulina began to walk without having even directed a word towards her brother.

Raphael couldn’t believe the way she was treating him. After all, it wasn’t like his behavior towards Harry was the absolute worst behavior he’d ever demonstrated. In the early days of her relationship with Joaquin, Raphael had quite literally run Joaquin out of the house for having let his hand linger a bit too high on her thigh for his liking. And she wasn’t even wearing a skirt or a dress that would’ve made it somewhat sensual, she was wearing jeans, and his hand had barely strayed a few inches above her knee, but Raphael had deemed it to high, and he’d been offended so he ran Joaquin out of the house, yelling that that wasn’t how respectable women are treated. And on that occasion, Paulina had only glared at Raphael and stormed out of the living room, she hadn’t told him off, she hadn’t made a huge scene; she’d just glared and left. That was it. But this time around, things were different, this time around, she was fiercely protective of her boyfriend, and she had no problem with standing up to him, with telling him off. This time she was serious, and now Raphael was aware of just how serious her sentiments were.

“I'm sorry.” He blurted out, awkwardly.

She stood still. “What?”

“I'm sorry.” He repeated, a bit louder. “And don’t ask me to say it again, because I know you heard me. You’re right. Okay? I was an asshole to him, but you’ve got to understand my heart was in the right place. I just . . .” he hesitated. Raphael wasn’t particularly adept at talking about his feelings. “ . . . I worry for you. That’s it. I worry. And I was just giving him hell, because I . . . I didn’t think he was good enough for you. I honestly don’t think he deserves you, but if you’re willing to get up in arms over him, then I guess . . . well, I don’t guess, I know that I have to rethink my position, and I know that I have to extend to him the respect he’s extended to us. So there,” he shrugged. “That’s all I wanted to say. So can we be okay now?”

“Only if you actually mean what you said.”

“I do mean it.” He assured. “I’ll be better with him. Te prometo (I promise).”

“Then we’re okay.” She reached over and took his hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. “But you better keep your word.”

“I always do.” And he wasn’t lying. Whenever he made a promise, he kept it.

A smile was gifted to him, an appreciative little smile that made it clear that she was pleased by his willingness to make an effort with her boyfriend. Whether or not Raphael would be able to make as big of an effort as Paulina wanted, she didn’t know, but she knew for certain that he would at least not be a dick anymore, and if he were to require another telling off in the future, then so be it.

When the pair reentered Milner Hall, the musical entertainment for the night was just beginning their three hour engagement. It was an orchestra that would play a medley of classical music, as well as a few contemporary tunes that had been arranged to suit them. There had been talk that a jazz band would be procured for the occasion, but that had been knocked on its head by Lord Fellowes whom stated that such a prestigious event would not be tainted by such wild music. There would be an orchestra, and at a later point, and opera singer, that – in his opinion – was suitable entertainment.

And as the orchestra began to play, the students did away with their assigned seat and began crowding around the trustees in hopes of introducing their families to the influential individuals whom had helped shape their experience at Oxford. Though, to be perfectly honest, that wasn’t the only reason why they were lining up to speak to Lord Fellowes and Sir John, they were lining up because they wanted to hear themselves praised by them, they wanted their family members to hear themselves spoken well of. They had worked hard, made tough sacrifices and after all that, all they wanted was to have their egos inflated a little, to be lauded.

While many of the other families were making their way onto the dance floor or mingling amongst one another, Paulina’s for the most part remained at the table. Her father sat awaiting her arrival so he could take his high blood pressure medicine, Teresa waited for Raphael to get back so they could make an attempt at dancing, despite not knowing at all how to waltz, Adrian and Raphael were whispering amongst themselves, smiling mischievously at one another, and Luis was scanning the room for attractive women to charm throughout the night. Her mother and Harry were the only ones missing from the table, and as soon as Paulina had handed the medicine off to her dad, she asked Luis where it was that the pair had gone off to.

“Where’d mom and Henry go?” she asked him.

“Huh?” replied Luis, absentmindedly. He found it a bit difficult to tear his eyes away from the Kenyan beauty who was engaged in a waltz with a fellow Rhodes Scholar. “What’d you say?”

“I asked if you knew where mom and Henry went off to.” Paulina repeated. “Do you know?”

“Of course I know.” He feigned offense. “I was fucking sitting right here when he asked mom to dance. So your güerito’s somewhere out there with mom. Now if you’ll excuse me . . .”

“Quit staring at people. It’s creepy.”

“I'm not staring at people.” He turned to face her. “I'm just trying to figure out who it is that I want to ask out to dance. I can’t just go around asking anyone. I’ve got to make sure they know how to move.”

“What are you even talking about? You don’t know how to dance to this kind of music. Actually, I take that back, you don’t know how to dance to any kind of music.”

“Lies!” he exclaimed.

“Really?” she cocked her brow at him. “Must I remind you of the incident at my Quinceañera?”

“That’s not on me. That shit was on you. You were supposed to do that quick step to the right, and I was supposed to follow, but you didn’t move fast enough.”

“Not even. Your timing was way off.”

With his hand, he shooed her away. “Go away. I’ve had enough of your face.”

“You’re so mean.” She flicked his hear, and when he flinched she let out a booming laugh. “Well since you’re just gonna sit here, I'm gonna ask dad to dance with me.”

“You’re gonna ask dad to dance?” he nearly laughed. “Dad doesn’t waltz.”

“He’ll waltz if I ask him to.” Paulina said, very matter-of-factly.

And sure enough, when she asked her father to dance, he humored her despite his reservations. Like his son had said, Ricardo wasn’t one for waltzing. His knowledge of dance came primarily from Mexican regional music, he’d grown up with the zapateado, he’d grown up dancing banda, and that was what he knew. The waltz was never something that had interested him, but because his little girl wanted him to dance, he’d dance, even if he looked uncomfortable and out of place on the dance floor.

Ricardo led them to a space on the dance floor that had enough room for them to move easily, and after getting into the posture that his daughter told him to, he began his attempt at a waltz, though, to be honest, his attempt didn’t last very long, a minute into trying to imitate what the others were doing, he just gave up, and reverted to a simple back and forth motion, as if they were attempting a box step but hadn’t quite gotten it down. Paulina didn’t mind, she knew her dad wasn’t comfortable, the movements were a bit to forced to him, the music wasn’t lively enough, he loved passionate music, music that really stirred something from within, and so Paulina appreciated the effort he made for her, even if others were deeming him ungraceful in his movements.

As she danced with her father, her eyes began to scan the floor, checking to see where it was that Harry and her mother had gone off to. Her dark brown eyes darted around the room, searching for a trace of them, and when they finally found the pair on the dance floor, she couldn’t help but break into a bright grin as she watched Harry lead her mother around the dance floor. Her mother wasn’t faring much better than her father had, but she seemed a lot more at ease, and that was no doubt due to Harry’s debonair smile and calming presence. He had a way about him, a way that made the entire world vanish, and Paulina could tell that her mother had fallen under his spell. There was no woman that could resist his charm, not when he chose to turn it in.

It was awhile before Harry noticed Paulina looking his way, and when he did, he strategically maneuvered himself and her mother, in their direction. And just as the first song was ending, they came within reach of one another.

“Paulina!” exclaimed her mother when she realized she was there. “Es increíble como baila este muchacho. Se muevo como un bailarín profesional. ¡Tan guapo y tan buen bailarín y tan simpático, me gusta – me encanta! Mira como esta de chulo, que lindo. Ay Dios mío. Estoy hablando muy rápido, nunca va agarrar todo lo que dije. Mira mejor que tú te pongas a bailar y yo me llevo a tu papa de que por cierto se me ve un poco cansado. (It’s amazing how well he dances. He moves like a professional. Oh! So handsome and such a good dancer and so sweet, I like him – I adore him! Look at how handsome he is, how lovely. Oh my God. I'm talking to fast; he’s not going to understand everything I said. Look, I think it’s better if you dance with him, and I’ll take your dad back to the table, he looks a little tired to me.)”

“¿Cansado? ¿Que soy un mocoso? Soy hombre, y una pinché bailada no me cansa. Vente para acá y te enseño como bailan los meros machos. (Tired? What am I a lazy teenager? I’m a man, and one damn dance isn’t enough to tire me out. Come over here, and I’ll show how real men dance.)”

“En ese caso, déjame le digo al güerito que me voy contigo. (In that case, let me tell the güerito that I’m gonna go with you.)” Irmalinda turned to Harry. “Ah, Harry, thank you very much for dance, but I go with Ricardo now. He wants dance. You dance with Paulina. Yes? Yes. Thank you, mijo (my dear).” And with that, she placed a kiss on his cheek, smiled affectionately and then went to her husband, who seemed determined to do a better job of the waltz.

“So . . .” spoke Paulina, smiling coyly. “You gonna ask me to dance or are we just gonna stand around here all day?”

“Do ya really need asking?”

“Why of course. Don’t you see I'm all dressed up?” She did a little twirl. “I’ve got to be charmed, güerito. Though to be honest, you’ve already charmed me enough to last a decade.”

“Have I?” He looked pleased with himself, without being aware of what it was he’d done. “What I do? For future reference, of course,” he added.

“You asked my mom to dance.” She replied, gazing upon him with loving eyes. “That was really sweet of you.”

“I'm a sweet man.”

“Well if you’re so sweet, you should ask me to dance.”

“Oh, alright,” he cleared his throat, his smirk being replaced by a debonair smile. “Miss Balcázar, might I have the honor of engaging you for the next dance?”

That line always left her weak in the knees. It made her think of period dramas, of Mr. Darcy and Colonel Brandon and Captain Wentworth, and Harry was well aware of that. Sometimes, when they were alone in her apartment, he’d ask her to dance in that manner, it wouldn’t be much of a dance, just a slow little box step in her dimly lit apartment, but it would always lead to their making love. And as he asked her, his eyes bore into hers, his gaze set her entire being aflame.

“It would be an honor, Sir.”

With a bow of his head, he offered his hand to her, holding it out for her to take, and when she did, he pulled her in close, until their bodies were the appropriate distance apart. He couldn’t help but wish to have her closer, to have her body pressed against his own and have her rest her head against his chest, but the waltz did not demand that from their bodies, they had to hold themselves up, in very professional positions. And once they managed that, they began to move about the floor. They moved with such grace and elegance that many sets of eyes suddenly became fixed on them, watching as they waltzed across the dance floor. Harry and Paulina possessed a lightness of foot that gave the impression they were simply gliding across the floor. Their movements seemed effortless, though in fact there had been quite a bit of effort to get the movements to that place. Harry had been raised to be an accomplished dancer, his being in constant attendance of balls demanded that from him, and Paulina had been privately instructed by Alfred as well as Lady Fellowes. It was them who taught her the art of the waltz, and it was with Harry with whom she perfected it.

Her family was taken aback by how gracefully Paulina waltzed. She’d always been a good dancer. That was something that she and Adrian had inherited from their grandmother Lujza, but neither of them had ever done much in the way of waltzing. But there was Paulina, twirling about with Prince Harry, looking every bit the part of a princess.

Paulina and Harry stayed on the dance floor through the orchestra’s entire first set. Whenever they danced, they forgot the world, especially when they were at such public events. It was just them out there; their smiles, their small talk, and they loved that. She loved waltzing with him and being in his arms so much that she’d accidentally ignored her family for close to forty minutes, but when the first set ended, they were snapped from their daze, and returned to the table where only her parents sat. The others had made their way onto the dance floor, even Luis had asked someone to dance, and when the first set ended he bid the young lady farewell and returned back to the family table to get a drink.

Their table was one of the closest to that of the Trustees. Lord Fellowes had personally seen to the seating chart in order to ensure that his favored Scholar and his nephew would be given preferred seating. And it wasn’t long before Paulina and Harry returned to the table before Paulina asked her parents to please accompany her so she could introduce them to Lord and Lady Fellowes. Her parents had heard enough of the people to know that they’d showed their daughter kindness even before she started dating Harry, the Fellowes had been good to Paulina, and that elicited warmth and respect from Ricardo and Irmalinda. They addressed them politely, they had a bit of trouble understanding some of the things the Fellowes said since the British accent occasionally confused them on a few words, but the meeting went well. It went a little better than Paulina had expected. Paulina had thought that Lord and Lady Fellowes would only want to meet her parents, but they expressed a desire to meet her siblings as well, and so she asked them to accompany her to the family’s table, where she introduced her to the rest of her relatives. They were all on their best behavior, smiling politely, speaking respectfully, and at the end of it, Lord and Lady Fellowes were pleased to find that the Balcázar family was charming and well mannered; the Queen could find no fault with them. Well, she could find fault with the fact that there was an openly gay couple in the mix, but they doubted very much that she would ever voice disapproval over that, because if the Balcázar family had no trouble with it, then she couldn’t either.

Throughout the rest of the night, Paulina introduced her family to other Trustees. They spent a lot of time with Sir John, whom was somewhat proficient in Spanish, and engaged her parents in their native tongue. They then met with some of her friend’s families. They spent quite a bit of time with Callum and Terry, as well as Lesedi and Graham. It was a great evening, the perfect way to end her time with her fellow Rhodes Scholars, and at the end of it, they all gathered together to take another group picture. The second wasn’t as bright faced and cheerful as the one taken at the start of the evening. There were a lot of crying faces; Paulina’s cheeks were stained with tears as she stood between Callum and Lesedi. That would be the last time they’d all ever be in the same room together. That was it. And despite having spent most of the night laughing and smiling, she left Rhodes House a crying mess.

She’d known all along that she’d have to say goodbye to them, that they’d go their separate ways and most likely lose touch at some point down the line, that was what happened, it happened with friends in high school, it happened with some friends at Stanford, and she knew it would happen with most of them, but knowing that it would happen didn’t make things any easier. She was going to miss them. She was going to miss the Saturday morning rugby matches, the random practices throughout the week, the going out to pubs, and buffets. They had been such a crucial part of her experience at Oxford, and saying goodbye took a lot more out of her than she’d anticipated.

By the following morning, she was feeling better about things, but that didn’t last long, because as she was getting dressed for her graduation, the finality of things suddenly really sank in. And a panic stricken Paulina, found herself having to take a seat in order to calm herself. She sat on the edge of the bathtub, hands gripping the porcelain as she attempted to steady her breathing. In just a few hours, she would walk across the stage and be presented her diploma, in just a few hours her time at Oxford as a Rhodes Scholar would officially come to an end, and that scared the shit out of her.

She’d grown accustomed to the life she’d made herself at Oxford, and more than that, she loved the life she led there – the friends, the hang outs, the stolen weekends with Harry. She loved all that, absolutely loved it, but now, now things were coming to an end.

Outside, most of her belongings had been packed up so her family could take them home. She’d given some of her plates and cookware away to people that lived in her apartment building so they could get some use out of it, she’d donated some things to the local second hand store, and sold the television, the one luxury that she’d invested in when she arrived in Oxford. And there were other things that couldn’t be repurposed or given away, so those were thrown out.

Outside, her entire life in Oxford was packed up in luggage or waiting to be packed up, and inside, in the bathroom, she sat, having what felt like a minor panic attack.

The future terrified her. Its uncertainty was unnerving, especially since she was so fond of planning things out, and knowing exactly what was going to happen. She hated being ignorant of what was to come, she hated leaving behind everything that had come to mean so much to her over the last two years.

It was in that bathroom, as she sat on the bathtub, that it suddenly dawned on her how difficult it would actually be to be without Harry. It suddenly dawned on her how very real the separation was going to be, but there was nothing she could do about it. It was to late to change her mind, she’d already paid her tuition at Harvard and given the first and last month’s rent on a basement apartment she’d come into possession of in late August. She had made her decision and now she had to just deal with it. That was all she could do.

As Paulina sat on the edge of the bathtub, Harry stood in front of the bathroom, contemplating what to do. She had been in there for the last fifteen minutes. She’d told him that she was just going to get dressed and then come on out, but she was taking way longer than one would take if they were simply going to throw some clothes on. Something was going on in there. What? He didn’t know, but something was happening, he was sure of it.
“Darling!” he called to her, resting his forehead against the door. “Darling, you alright in there?” he asked.

No response.

“Have I . . .” he paused, thinking of what could possibly be the matter with her, the last time she’d locked herself in the bathroom was because he’d been an idiot, and he couldn’t help but suspect that might yet again be the case. “ . . . Have I done something wrong?” he asked, cautiously. “If I have, I'm sorry. Whatever it was, I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s not you!” she croaked out. “You’ve been nothing but wonderful and I fucking love you. I'm just going through something right now and I don’t know . . . I'm just – ugh! I'm a mess!”

“Could I come in? Maybe I could sort things out?”

“The door’s open.”

Slowly, he stepped inside so as not to startle her. His steps were cautious, very much deliberate, and when he saw her sitting on the bathtub, his heart nearly gave out. Her eyes were all puffy, and she seemed absolutely distraught.

“What’s wrong, love?” he found himself asking in a small voice, as he knelt down in front of her.

“I don’t know.” She told him. “One moment I was alright, and then the next, I started freaking out because everything’s gonna chance and I don’t know . . . I'm just worried about what’s gonna happen. I don’t want to leave anymore, but I have to. And it’s like, I made the fucking decision to leave, I'm the one that picked Harvard instead of Oxford, but now I'm angry at myself for having done that. And I feel like an idiot for being angry at myself, because I'm the one that made that decision in the first place.” She groaned in frustration, and covered her face with her right hand. “I'm sorry. I'm just a mess right now.”

“Don’t apologize.” He took her hand into his, and slowly lowered it from her face. “This is normal, being nervous and all. To be honest, I'm nervous.”

“You are?”

“Of course,” he nodded. “The future’s a scary thing. Everyone’s nervous about it. I know I’ve had a good fret over what’s to come. But you know what? We’ll manage. Like you said, it’ll be like it is now, I’ll be at training most of the time, and we’ll have a weekend together every month. The only difference will be the plane ride. That’s it.”

“You promise?” She sniffled.

“Of course, I do, you arse. We’ll be fine. Better than fine, we’ll be brilliant. Now quit your crying.” He wiped away her tears. “You’ve a graduation to see to. And ya can’t bloody cry until that’s done with.”

She couldn’t help but smile at him. “What would I do without you?”

“You’d cry a hell of a lot more.” He teased. “S’alright though. Ya don’t have to worry about that happening, because I'm here. Now, should I get going so you can finish up?”

“I could actually use your help with putting on my cufflinks.”

At that, his eyes widened. “Hold on. Give me a sec. I’ve something to . . . just wait!” He dashed out of the bathroom, into the living room where he rummaged through his luggage before pulling out a small gift box and running back into the bathroom. “I’ve . . . I’ve this for you . . .” he said breathlessly. “I know you said not to get you anything, but I got you this before you said not to, so happy graduation, love. And don’t even try to fucking tell me off for having got you something.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Ya looked like you were.”

“I was just surprised, is all,” she said as she took the box from him. “Thank you, güerito.”

“Well go on now, open it.”

“Right now?” she asked.

“Of course, unless you don’t want to, that is.”

“I so want to. I just wasn’t sure if I should wait or not, cuz you know how you can be. Sometimes you give me things but then you say that I have to wait until you’re gone to open it.”

“Reckon you’re right, but this isn’t one of those moments.”

“In that case, I’ll open it straight away.”

The lavender ribbon was the first to come undone, then the wrapping paper was less than graciously taken off, and then the top of the beige box was lifted and placed at her side. Inside the box, there was a small, black jewelry box.

She felt herself grow hot at the sight of it. It was too small for there to be a necklace or a watch or bracelet, it was just the right size for earrings and rings . . . it was one of those little boxes that men pull out in movies just before they propose. Was he proposing? Was that it? Was that why he’d been so eager to have her open the box? In a panic, she lifted her gaze from the box and looked down at Harry’s legs. He was knelt before her, down on one knee . . .

“Why are you on one knee?” she blurted out, nervously.

“Because I knelt down in front of you,” he answered, unsure as to why she’d asked that.

“You sure?” she asked. “You sure there’s not another reason, because I mean there might be and I just . . . I don’t you. You know? I just . . . I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on in your head.”

“What the hell’s gotten into you?”

“You tell me. What – what’s in the box?”

“A present!” he exclaimed.

“A present or a present?” she stated.

“I don’t get what you’re – oh!” he bellowed when he realized what was going on. He was down on one knee, there was a small box, and she’d been freaking out because she thought he was proposing. “It’s not that!” he exclaimed, his cheeks taking on a brighter color. “I'm not proposing!” He said as he quickly stood up. “Not that that’s such a horrible thing. It wouldn’t be if I was. I imagine it’d be brilliant, but I'm not. That – that’s not an engagement ring. I promise! I wouldn’t – we’re too young! I love you and all, but come on, yeah. So no . . . it’s not that. Don’t look so worried. Wait. Why were you looking so worried?”

“Like you said, I love you and all but we’re too young.” She let out a sigh of relief and with newfound curiosity, opened the box.

Inside, resting against the soft black velvet, were two cufflinks, but they weren’t normal cufflinks they were golden sunflower cufflinks with small diamonds comprising the center.

“Oh my God . . .” she whispered. “Henry . . . this is . . . they’re beautiful, but it’s too much. These are too much. I thank you, but I can’t. You shouldn’t have spent so much money.”

“Don’t be an arse. You never let me buy you these sort of things, even when you really love something, ya never let me get it, because it’d be too much. But you know what? Just shut it. Yeah? Cuz we both know you love these. Ya have to! They were made special.”

“They were?”

He nodded. “Not everyone’s mad about sunflowers like you are. So these are for you, whether you like it or not, they’re yours. So don’t start going on about how they’re too much, they’re just right.”

“They’re perfect.” She smiled, sheepishly. “I can’t believe you had it made for me. Thank you, güerito! Thank you so much!” She stood up and wrapped her arms tightly around him. “You spoil me.”

“A bloke’s meant to dote on his bird. It’s only right.”

“Well either way, thank you. I love them and I absolutely love you.” She placed an eager kiss on his lips. “Can you help me put them on? I want to graduate in them.”

Harry skillfully put on her cufflinks, and once they were on, he took a seat on the edge of the bathtub and talked to Paulina as she did her hair and got her make up ready. By the time she was nearly done with her makeup, Luis had just shown up with their family. He’d been charged with fetching them that morning. He’d half expected to find Paulina and Harry making out when they walked in, but Harry was just listening to Paulina talk.

“You almost done?” asked Luis. “You’re supposed to be on campus in a half hour for the rehearsal.”

“I know, I know, just tell them to get in the van and then I’ll run out. I'm nearly done so it won’t be long.”

“You sure?” said Luis.

She nodded. “I’ve just got to get my cap and the robe thing so I’ll be there, just take them.”

“Alright then,” he shot her a smile. “Everyone!” he exclaimed. “Paulin says that we should go wait in the car, so come on, let’s go! That includes you, Harry. Don’t give me that look, come on! Let’s hurry up! Dad, what are you doing? Paulin said to head out. You and mom can’t hang back while, oh okay, fine, fine, but don’t take long; she’ll be late if we don’t get going. Everyone else let’s go.”

Luis hurried everyone except for his parents out of the apartment, and when the door closed behind them, they made their way towards the bathroom where Paulina was putting the finishing touches on her make up.

“Paulina,” spoke her dad. “Ven para acá. Tu mama y yo queremos hablar con tigo. (Come over here, we want to talk to you.)”

“¿Esta todo bien? (Is everything okay?)” asked Paulina.

“Si, si claro que esta todo bien, estamos bien. No mas que queríamos hablar con tigo a solas. (Yes, yes, of course, everything’s fine, we’re fine. We just wanted to talk to you in private.)” Irmalinda paused, feeling her chest swell with emotions. “Tu sabes muy bien que tu papa y yo te queremos mucho. Eres nuestra luz, y te queríamos decir que estamos muy pero muy orgullosos de ti. (You know very well that your father and I love you very much. You’re our light, and we just wanted to tell you that we are very, very proud of you.)”

“Somos los papas mas orgullosos del mundo. (We’re the proudest parents in the world.)” Her father took over. “En tu vida nos has dado mucho satisfacción. Como siempre hemos dicho, por tus ojos, vemos el mundo. Y que mundo tan lindo hemos visto. Tu mama y yo nunca fuimos a la universidad, yo ni me gradúe de la primaria, pero cuando te vemos a ti, en la Stanford y ora aquí en la Oxford, sentimos que nosotros también estamos graduándonos, que nosotros también lo logramos. (In your life, you have given us a lot of joy and satisfaction. Like we’ve always said to you and your brothers, through your eyes, we see the world. And what a beautiful world we’ve seen! Your mother and I never went to college, I didn’t even get through elementary school, but when see you, first at Stanford, now at Oxford, we feel like we’re also graduating. We feel like we also did it.)” Her father’s dark brown eyes began to water, and try as he did, he couldn’t blink the tears away. “Cuando llegamos a los Estados Unidos, nuestro sueno era que Raphael y los hijos que vinieran tuvieran una oportunidad de vivir una digna, de educarse, y hacer el bien. Y si nos logro el sueño. Los cuatro nos cumplieron el sueño y te queremos dar un regalito. (When we first got to the United States, our dream was that Raphael and his future brothers and sister would be able to have the opportunity to live an honorable life, to educate themselves, and do good by others. And our dream came true. The four of you made our dream a reality, and now we want to give you a little gift in thanks.)”

“No era necesario. El regalo es que están aquí, que vamos a compartir este momento. Esto es todo lo que yo quería. (That’s not necessary. My gift is having you guys here, sharing this moment with me. That’s what I always wanted.)”

“Yo se, mija. (We know.)” Irmalinda pulled out a box from her pocket. “Pero te queríamos regular algo, un detallito. Felicidades, y muchas gracias por ser nuestra. Que dios te bendiga. (But we still wanted to give you a gift. Congratulations on graduating and thank you for being ours. May God bless you.)”

Paulina took the box from her mother’s hand. It was a small, navy blue jewelry box, and when she opened it, she found herself staring at a white gold Oxford class ring. Her eyes immediately overflowed with tears as she looked up at her parents.

“Mom, papi!” she exclaimed. “I – thank you! ¡Gracias, gracias, muchas gracias! Es hermoso, ay Dios mío, que belleza. (Thank you! Thank you! Thank you so very much! It’s beautiful, oh my God, it’s beautiful!)” She pounced on her parents and kissed their cheeks and hugged them, saying thank you, all the while.

It wasn’t after they finished having their moment that she slipped off the class ring they’d gifted her when she graduated from Stanford, and slipped on the one from Oxford. She couldn’t help but hold up her hand and stare at the ring in awe as she did so. She stared at it, as she had stared at her cufflinks, in complete disbelief that they were actually hers.

Close to five minutes later, she and her parents finally left the apartment. They climbed into the van where everyone else was impatiently awaiting them, and Paulina drove them all to the parking structure. She had to bid them farewell since she had to practice for the ceremony, she felt bad leaving Harry alone with all of them, but Harry had assured her that it would be fine. And he took the hour and a half period before the ceremony actually began, to give her family another tour around campus and to talk. It didn’t feel as awkward being around them. In fact, he felt at ease with them. Luis was every bit as friendly to Harry as Rodrigo had been, Adrian was being a lot warmer to him as well, and even Raphael, was beginning to be nice. Harry felt like they accepted him and he took pride in showing them around until the graduation started.

And when it came time to take their seats for the ceremony, it was him who managed to get them front row seats, as close to the graduates as they could possibly be, and as they sat in the front row, he sat between Ricardo and Raphael, at a place of an honor. Usually, Raphael sat right beside his father, and it went down according to age, it was always Rafa and Teresa, Adrian and Thomas, Luis, then Paulina, but they’d made an exception, they placed Harry there, and Harry could sense that was a sign of their having accepted them, and so he sat with a bright smile on his face, holding onto the bouquet of sunflowers that he’d had Alistair pick up for him at the florist.

And when Paulina’s name was announced, she walked across the stage and was pleasantly surprised to find Harry sitting right there, but more than that, when she saw him with his family, so accepted, so much a part of them, she couldn’t help but think that was exactly how she always wanted it to be. Harry wasn’t just her boyfriend anymore. He was a part of her family.