Looking at the evidence. Has Juliano ever made you feel small?
– No.
Has he ever criticized you, humiliated you, or made you feel less than you?
– No.
Has he ever pressured you, rushed you, demanded things you weren’t ready to give?
No. He has been nothing but a patient.
So trust it. Trust the evidence in front of you, not the ghosts in your head.
—
Saturday arrived far too quickly. Rebeca changed her clothes four times. Nothing seemed right. Finally, she opted for jeans and a soft blue blouse. Simple. Comfortable. Her.
Juliano picked them up at ten in the morning. He was driving a normal car, nothing flashy, just an ordinary pickup truck. The children climbed into the back seat, wary and on guard.
“Hi,” Juliano said nervously. “I’m Juliano. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”
Silence. Then Emilia asked:
How much money do you have?
— Emilia! — Rebecca turned around. — You don’t ask people that.
Why not? I want to know.
Juliano laughed. A genuine laugh. Not an uncomfortable one. Just amused.
That’s a fair question. I have more money than I need and less than I want.
“That’s not an answer,” Evan remarked.
— You’re right. It’s not. The real answer is complicated. But the simple answer is: enough to be comfortable. Enough to help people I care about. Not enough to solve all the world’s problems, but enough to make a difference.
Evan considered this.
— Are you trying to buy us off? Because Dad’s girlfriend does that. She buys us things and thinks that makes us like her.
I’m not trying to buy you. I’m trying to get to know you. And I hope you get to know me. If you don’t like me, that’s fine. But I hope you’ll give me a chance.
They went to the park. Not a fancy park. Just an ordinary neighborhood park, with swings and slides. Juliano pushed Emilia on the swing, played basketball with Evan, sat with Rebecca on a bench and didn’t try to hold her hand in front of them. He was giving them space, time, room to adjust.
After an hour, Emilia ran to them.
Juliano, can you push me higher?
Rebeca’s chest tightened. Emilia had called him by his name. Not “mommy’s friend.” Juliano.
At lunch, they ate pizza, the children’s favorite food. Nothing special, but they were laughing, talking, acting normally. Evan told Juliano about his math class, about how he loved patterns and numbers. Emilia talked about her art project, about the dragon she was drawing that could breathe fire of different colors depending on its mood.
Juliano listened. He really listened. He asked questions. He remembered details.
When they returned to the apartment, the children ran inside to play. Juliano and Rebeca stayed by the car.
“They’re amazing,” he said.
They liked you.
I like them.
What if they get attached? What if you…?
He kissed her, interrupting her spiraling thoughts.
— I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. I’m in this until the end. Stop expecting me to leave.
– I am trying.
Try again.
She laughed and kissed him back.
Okay. I’ll try again.
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