Regrets

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**Regrets** is the third episode of the show and focuses on Cecilia, Andrés and Nathaniel. It is written by Sis

**Plot**

As we delve into the pasts of Cecilia, Andrés and Nathaniel, we get to see how she went from a superstar to a drunk, where Andrés came from, and the paths that Nathaniel chose in life. Nathaniel revaluates his priorities and his choices. Andrés tries to find ways to avoid going for what he really wants. Cecilia goes after Emmanuel. Unforeseen events lead to an encounter that might throw lives off balance.

# Regrets

'I regret nothing’, is the last message she can see from her friend. They are now entering their second week without talking. Calling hasn’t worked. Texting hasn’t worked. Going to his apartment hasn’t worked.

Cecilia dials Emmanuel’s number one more time, but it seems incredibly pointless. Their last encounter ended on a dramatic note, and she hasn’t been able to find him since, which leaves her worried about him every day. She is aware of Emmanuel’s relationship with his father, as well as the man’s feelings about his son’s lifestyle, which he calls “unnatural”. Still, knowing he could do nothing about it, the option to stay away from one another seemed like the best way to keep them at bay. The only reason her friend hasn’t been completely disowned yet is because his mother left him money, before she died. With all of that in mind, she taps ‘call’ and hopes that she’ll get through this time, but six rings later, she’s yet again being sent to the voicemail. So she shoves her phone in her pocket and leaves. She keeps replaying the night in her head, working out possible outcomes. How his father could have found a way to disown him for good; how he could have sent him away, to an isolated location, where he wouldn’t be able to be with another man, which is a pretty dramatic possibility, and the least likely to happen. But no matter what the scenario is, she sees Emmanuel being hurt in every single one of them, and that takes away her peace. Especially since she keeps thinking that it was her fault, for telling him to change himself and defy his father. That is the thing she regrets the most. Just another one to add to her collection.
As she is coming out of the elevator, she finds a man standing in the lobby, talking to the doorman, with his dapper business outfit and fiery red hair. Strangely, despite being neighbors, they seem to be finding one another more often than ever. He turns around very quickly, and does a double take when he notices her. She tries to flee quickly, but he is already walking over to her.

— Hello! Mr. Rowland. — She says, stopping in her track, and with a little more force than she intended to. He gives her a big smile.

— Hi there, lady. And good morning. — Nathaniel says. — Please, call me Nathaniel. How are you?

— Great. I’m great. — She gives him a fake smile.

— Really? ‘Cause you don’t look like it…

— Yeah, I just got a lot on my mind. Where’s your fiancée? — The girl asks. He looks down and then back up at her.

— She’s out. And speaking of her, I’d like to apologize for our last encounter. I know it’s been a while, but Sydney can be a bit much sometimes.

— Like I said then, it’s alright. I didn’t take it to heart. To be honest, she didn’t say anything worse than anyone on the internet has been saying to me for a long while. I’ve dealt with worse.

— Really? — The man asks. — That must be rough. Did you ever think of, I don’t know, quitting?

— Actually, yes.

— And why didn’t you? — She makes a face at him.

— It almost sounds like you want me to…

— No, no. I was just… asking. Didn’t mean to sound rude.

— That’s okay. — Cecilia says, with a light laugh.

— I hope I’m not overstepping, but, how would you feel about getting a cup of coffee with me? If you’re not busy, that is.

Cecilia thinks about it for a few seconds, while Nathaniel just looks at her, his eyes wide, like the hopeful, begging gaze of a puppy. What the hell? She nods, making him flash a large smile. She thinks he has a beautiful smile that matches his blue eyes. Nathaniel looks different from the times Cecilia has seen him. Usually in formal clothes, he is wearing a simple washed out jeans, a grey t-shirt and a navy-blue baseball cap.
The two don’t walk for long, and end up stopping at a nearby coffee shop. The place has a fair amount of customers, but it isn’t crowded. It’s enough to fill the room, but not enough not to be heard over the chatter. Nathaniel and Cecilia sit across from each other, awkwardly looking around. Until someone comes around to ask them something, a sort of nervous silence sits with them. Nathaniel is the first to break the silence.

— So… You used to be a singer, huh? — The question is simple and innocent, but for some reason, it makes Cecilia giggle.

— I guess I haven’t heard refer to me like that for a while. Um… I don’t know. I mean, I was. — She says. She fidgets. — But, I suppose I still like to think of myself as one. A singer, I mean. Or better, a musician.

— Oh, I see. Do you still write music?

— Every now and then, but the rhythm has decreased. — She taps her foot rapidly and repeatedly.

— Are you alright? — The man asks. — You seem a bit… Anxious.

— I’m fine.

— Really? Because if you move your foot any harder you’ll open a hole on the floor. Maybe coffee isn’t such a great idea. — His big blue eyes search for attention.

— Right. Do you want to get something stronger? — She asks, lazily.

— You mean alcohol? Isn’t it a bit early for that? Not to mention that I assumed you weren’t supposed to be drinking anymore.

— I never made such promises to anyone.

— Whatever you say. — He says. He thinks she is amusing, in all her craziness. They grab their coffee and leave, headed to a bar.

At home, Andrés finishes cleaning the kitchen after having breakfast. His girlfriend, Lily, is lying down on the couch, busy with her phone. Every few minutes she says something to him or answers a question, just to show that she is paying attention. Andrés stops cleaning, at last, and the room is spotless. In fact, the entire place is. Not a pillow out of place. The messiest thing around is the girl thrown on the sofa, like a ragdoll. She is still in her pajamas, Andrés walks up to her, sits down, lifts her head and lets it rest on his lap. The woman smiles and blows a kiss at him. She puts down her phone.

— Do you ever think about your family? — She asks him. His facial expression goes from amusement to confusion.

— No. — That’s the only thing he says. Even to his girlfriend, Andrés doesn’t talk too much about his emotions or what goes on inside his head. That doesn’t mean she stops trying.

— Not even a little bit? When you’re in bed at night and there’s nothing else up there…

— Not even then, Lily. I don’t know why you’re bringing this up. — She can feel his body tense up beneath her head. Time to switch the approach.

— I didn’t mean to upset you, baby. I’m sorry. — She says. The girl grabs his hand and brings it close to her mouth, giving it a few gentle kisses, then rests it against her cheek. It smells of coconut detergent and a faint sting of bleach. — It’s just that I was talking to my family, and they were so excited about us visiting… It got me thinking of how much I wish you could experience that with your own family and–

— You thought that, maybe, I’d be willing to go talk to them? — He doesn’t seem upset, but she can’t quite read the emotion on his face. It’s vague, if not for the slightly raised eyebrow.

— No, that wasn’t my intention. But now you got me thinking about it. Did you ever find it in you to forgive them?

— I’ve made my peace with it. It’s not like we can change the past, right? But I don’t think about reaching out. — He removes her head from his lap, making her sit up and look him straight in the eye. Finally, he scratches the back of his head, like he always does when he’s flustered. Lily feels victorious for punching through that wall.

— Not even Carmen? She's your mother...

— She’s made her choice; and I made mine clear. Thinking about this stuff freaks me out.

— How bad could your father be, though, Andrés? Is it really worth it blaming your mother for it?

— I don’t blame her for it, okay? I don’t blame her for anything. He’s the one to blame, and she just caught up in the crossfire. — He looks down at his feet and Lily thinks that he is just vulnerable enough for her to ask the questions she had always wanted to, but he always found a way to avoid.

— What really happened between you guys? Really. You never told me the story, and I feel that, as your girlfriend, it is my duty to help you lift your rocks, not carry the burden on your own. — She probes. She aims and it lends. He takes a deep breath and begins telling her the story.

— My dad… Carlos. He set fire to our house when I was seven. With my mom, my brother and my sister and I still inside. — He’s still unable to look up. Deep down, he fears that if he looks at her, something will break. — He says that he didn’t mean it, and my mom tries to protect him and say that it was the alcohol, but I don’t believe that for one second. You should have seen them fight…

— Oh my God, baby. I had no idea. — She says. She wraps her arms around him, trying to comfort him. — You don’t have to look away, I’m here for you. I’m not judging you.

— Yet. I’ve met my share of social workers and people who wanted to help, growing up. I could see it in their eyes, whenever the story was told. It was like something left, and I suddenly became this poor kid with the dysfunctional family. Something to be fixed.

— I would never do that to you. If anything, this makes me respect you more, because now I know you. The real you. — He looks her in the eyes for the first time. His face is very red. — How does your mother fit into all this?

— She’s still with him! — He says, raising his voice, taking even himself by surprise. — Sorry. Don’t ask me how I know it, but I just know. He did it on purpose. I overheard him saying that we were all like anchors, dragging him down, and getting in his way. A few hours later, our house is on fire and the only one safe is the man who just stands outside, watching it burn with his entire family inside.

“Of course my mom didn’t speak to him for months, and when he had no cards left up his sleeve, he came looking for us, saying he missed his kids, but she refused to let him see us. I thought that was it. That was the last we’d ever hear of him. But next thing you know, a year later, we’re all being prepped to welcome ‘daddy’ back home. ‘Your biggest smiles for daddy’, she’d say. But I knew better.”

— Maybe she found a way to forgive him. Maybe they worked it out and he changed. — Lily says.

— I left them behind when I turned seventeen. But I went back two years ago… It was the last time I spoke to my mom. I tried to get her out of there, but she wouldn’t go. — He tightens his fits. — He was beating her. With my sister just in the other room. And he still drinks. What’s keeping him from setting another “accidental” fire?

— Oh, no! — Her hands cover her mouth, in a snap. — That is horrible. I had no idea. I wish you would have told me sooner. I could have helped getting her out of there.

— Nah. It wouldn’t change much. She is set that they are happy as they are. You can’t really save someone against their will. Jesus didn’t do that, and I’m not about to do it either. — He says, making her laugh. Her gives her a faint smile.

— Is that why you don’t drink?

— I have a drink on special occasions, but yeah. I don’t ever want to allow myself to lose control like that.

— You wouldn’t… — She says.

— You don’t know that. He’s my father, whether I want it or not.

— Yes, I *do* know. I know you. You wouldn’t ever harm anyone. Specially someone you care about. — The two share an affectionate kiss. — This explains a lot.

— Right. Like what, for example? — He asks, leaning back and bringing her into his arms.

— Like your acute need for control and your obsession with cleaning. You’re trying to clean up all the mess left inside you. — She says, feeling very perky.

— Is that right? — He asks, planting a kiss on her lips. — And what else do you read, doctor?

— Well… I also know that that is why you need to be everybody’s father.

He nods and the two stay there, together, in silence. Each one’s mind racing, tying to make sense of everything that was shared then.

Over at the bar, a few drinks in, Cecilia is feeling relaxed, and Nathaniel notices she is starting to crack, even without him asking anything. She checks her phone regularly, as if she was waiting for an important message. Drink by drink, she starts to morph into a familiar sight – the girl he met on the hallway the first time they saw each other. Her voice has become louder than before, and her movements are definitely suffering an effect. That doesn’t keep her from continuing to order. He feels like he should stop her from proceeding, but he fears that it’ll prompt an angry response from her, and a drunken scene is the last thing he wants to cause.

— Screw people, you know? — The girls says, in a sloppy voice. — Screw ‘em. You worry about them and you try to help them, but then they just disappear and leave you out to dry.

— Is that someone supposed to message or call you? You keep looking at your phone.

— Yes! Thank you! — She says, half excited, half whiny. — You see, my friend, he’s gay. And his dad haaaaaaaaates it. But that guy is an asshole, right? So one night my friend, his name is Emmanuel, by the way, comes out looking *so awesome* and we’re having a good time, but his dad is waiting for him. It got tense, and that was, like, a week ago. I haven’t heard from him since.

— Have you tried calling *him*, instead of waiting for his call? — Nathaniel asks.

— Oh, only a thousand times. Dude. Listen.

— Right. Of course you would have. You’re not always this mentally incapacitated. — He keeps her from smashing yet *another* glass on the floor.

— Your voice sounds very funny. Is it a computer? — She asks. This starts Nathaniel off on a laughing spree, and it takes him several moments to contain himself. It doesn’t help when she looks at him, very confused, and mouths “What?!”

— I believe they call it an accent. And, no, it’s my own. It comes from me. — He responds. She looks him dead in the eye, her head bobbing up and down.

<— Are you a robot? Now *I* sound stupid.

— I think it’s time we go home. I will help you get to your apartment. Again.

— Thank you. You’re nicer than that girl.

Hours later, Andrés and Lily are still talking about his past. It’s as if revealing the things he did earlier has opened up a door to his most secret thoughts, one that refuses to close, as if he had been holding that in all his life, dying to let it out.

— Every time I think about it, I obsess over what I could have done differently, you know? — He says, as Lily fixes their food. Take-out. Chinese. — Like, what if I had done something differently? Or tried to get my mom to move before her could come back and lie to her. It’s just a list of regrets that I can’t ever cross off.

— Well, sure, things could have gone differently, but I don’t think that ever depended on you. I mean, you were just a kid, scared.  — She says, while setting the table.

— Maybe I shouldn’t have ran away from my past, but rather done something to change it. I mean, I know you can’t change your past, but, I don’t know, fix things. I could go back there right now and bring everyone here, minus my dad, of course. I shouldn’t have abandoned my family.

— Regretting every decision you made isn’t gonna help, Andrés. You still have a problem following things through when they get too close to home. You still don’t take direct action about things that concern you. The chips always fall where they may, and everything is what it is. — She interrupts his rant. — You can worry about that later. *We* can worry about it later. Right now, let’s just eat, okay?

Cecilia wakes up, feeling a bit lost, and immediately wanting to rip her head off. The hammering is more than familiar, so she gets up to get her usual hangover killer, before she realizes she has no clue where she is.
The room doesn’t look like her living room, and it doesn’t smell like her living room. Music that she does not listen to plays in the background. Everything seems to be metal, and sharp; definitely not hers. The lights aren’t exactly super bright, but there’s more here than in her apartment. She manages to count four different lamps, before a man comes from inside. Nathaniel. Everything starts rushing back to her, like a brick hitting her over the head. She remembers leaving with him in the morning, but not what got her there; that part is foggy.

— Hello. You’re awake. — He says.

— Indeed. — Cecilia responds. — Why exactly am I waking up in your living room?

— Well, we went out for a healthy 10 A.M. bender and, I’m not sure, but I think you were trying to set the world record for the most drinks ingested before noon. Either that or the biggest number of alcoholic beverages mixed together in one go; you were pretty strong on that front too.

— Ugh. If I wasn’t so beaten right now, you can be sure I would be serving you your ass on a platter for those snarky comments. — She says, grumpily.

— The ability to recognize sarcasm is a sign of a healthy mind. That means it is wearing off. — He says, offering her a fresh cup of coffee. ‘Carry On Wayward Son’ by Kansas comes on the radio. — Seriously, though, why would you drink like that before we had even gotten to lunch?

— I have issues, okay? — She grabs the coffee. — Thanks.

— I am aware. I think the whole world is. But you were talking about this friend…

— Did he call while I was out?

— No, not really. But I’m sure he’s safe and he’ll contact you when he gets the chance to. — She raises an eye brow at him. - In other news, you sound so normal when you say you were out. Like it happens often.

— It does. You must think I'm insane.

— Not insane, per se, just… troubled. I mean, you were this rising star that seemed to be on a one-way ticket upwards and suddenly, it’s a world of booze and vomit.

— I know I make it look effortless. — She jokes. — I didn’t actually set that goal for my life. It all kind of just happened.

— I don’t get that. How does it just “happen”, overnight? — He says, shaking his head.

— Hey, dude! Don’t you think that’s a little too personal? By the looks of it, I’ve been telling you all about my life, but still, I don’t even know your name.

— Actually, you do. — Nathaniel makes a face at her.

— Shit. Oopsie. That’s beside the point. The point is that you’re just asking questions, and not answering any. Maybe I should be asking things here. Like, what do you do for a living?

— That’s fair. I am the CEO of a company called ‘Mobilizer-e’. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?

— Yeah. That’s just one of the biggest phone companies in the world. So, you’re the guy, huh?

— I guess I am; the guy. — He grins.

— Well, mister guy, you seem to have a pretty great life. Rich, the boss man, engaged to a beautiful model… pretty great.

— It’s not as glamorous as it seems. Certainly not as much as the life of a superstar such as yourself. What’s *that* like?

— Not as fabulous as it seems either. In the beginning, it was. But then I just didn’t know where I was going. Work had become my life and my life had become work. Partying late went from being fun to being a task. So one day I decided that since I had to be there against my will, I might as well try to keep myself numb. That’s when the drinking started.

— You couldn’t handle the life? Is that it? — He asks. His face is serene. There isn’t malice behind his eyes or his tone. Just someone who is interested in knowing her story. Not the gossip. That is refreshing to Cecilia.

— I don’t blame them. Really, I don’t. It’s what they know. That is the business. And I’m the one who took the first sip, and the next one, and the one after that. I just didn’t feel like myself anymore. I felt like a machine, and I wanted to feel something. Something that I could control. Ironic, huh? — She looks to the side, very uninterested, but he can tell that the words pack a lot of hurt. — What about you? What plagues your perfect world?

— Hardly perfect. I started working at a young age, with my father. Lost my mother when I was a kid, so it was just me and him. My dad can be quite difficult. I guess that’s why I’ve always tried to be a different kind of father.

— You have a kid? — Her mouth is open and her eyes wide. — WOW. I would have never thought. With the Blondie?

— Who, Sydney? God, no. With my wife. She passed away when he was two; my son. His name is Zachary. My dad was furious when he found out. I don’t blame him, though. We were just kids, me and her. But I wish he had been a bit more supportive. — The man rubs his hands together, nervously.

— That’s tough… — She says.

— Yeah, well, I was a kid with a kid of my own to look after. I was barely an adult when his mother passed away, and my father refused to help me. “You did a fine job of knocking her up on your own,” he told me. So I convinced him to give me a job at his company. I worked so hard, to take care of my boy, and pay for my studies.

— Dude! You are taking good guy to another level. Hard-working single dad works to raise his child and put himself through college? That sounds like the plot of a movie. — She says. Nathaniel laughs.

— It does, doesn’t it? But it was real. Starting out so young taught me a lot and it gave me time to make a few investments of my own. — He says, getting up to put her cup of coffee in the sink. — Sometimes I think that, maybe, I wasted my life away, working all the time. But if there’s one thing I don’t regret is my son, and doing it all for him.

— That is the worst feeling. When you feel like you’ve been walking around for ages, but suddenly, it all seems like it was for nothing. I miss the joy I used to feel.

— Do you still want to do it? Work, I mean. — He asks.

— I don’t know. I would like to make music; I’d love to still make music. But only if it’s on my own terms.

— Maybe you will. — He says. — Find yourself.

— And so will you. I bet your kid is proud of you, anyway. — She says, getting up. — Well, dude, thanks for talk. I think I should go now. I still gotta try Emmanuel one more time.

— Oh, yes. Sure. It was really nice talking to you. And I hope you find your friend.

— Thanks.

Nathaniel walks Cecilia to the door and once she’s gone, he starts thinking about his life. Not his past, the one they were talking about, but specifically the things that had put him and the girl on the same path. He found her with a goal to reach, but now, after spending the day with her, he wasn’t so sure that he would like to continue pursuing that goal. Especially if it meant destroying her just so that his father could make money and dispose of a dead weight at the same time. He had done that before, to others, and those remained his biggest regrets in life, even if he had found good excuses for it at the time.

Cecilia sits on the balcony of Emmanuel’s apartment, looking at the movement on the streets below, when she hears a knock on the door. “Come on in!” she shouts. Thirty minutes before, Andrés had texted her, and she told him to come meet her at their friend’s apartment.
The place looked like nobody had been there in a few days. No food or dirty dishes, though. That meant he had been there recently.

— Hey, lady. — Andrés greets.

— Hey, And. Come up. — He joins her on the balcony.

— No sign of him, right?

— No. I’ve been here all night. I keep thinking that something horrible could have happened to him. I regret not staying with him. — She says.

— It wasn’t your fault, sister. You can’t dwell on the past if you want to get to the next door. — He says, holding her hand.

— When did you become such an expert?

— Since yesterday morning. Lily told me that. I told her about my family.

— Oh my God. How did she take it?  — She said, resting her head on Andrés’ shoulder.

— She was pretty supportive… mostly. She even tried to psychoanalyze me; see what makes me tick. — The comment got laughs out of both. — She says that my low tolerance to messes stems from my need to tidy up my mess of a life.

— Perceptive. — She laughs at her own response. ‘Perceptive’ isn’t a word she would often use to describe her friend’s girlfriend. — Does she know why you love DJying so much?

— I don’t know. What do you mean?

— Well, I know you like music. And I know you like how the notes complete each other. But you also love that the noise drowns everything out, and when you’re up there, nothing else matters. — This earns her a deep look from Andrés.

— You’re pretty amazing, you know?

— I try… — She says, staring down. When she looks back up, she catches Andrés still gazing at her. — What?

— Nothing. Let’s get out of here.

The two walk out of the apartment and head home together. The sun is rising on the horizon, and they both feel pretty banged up and tired, but the conversation has makes up for it. Andrés confessed to her how he tries his hardest to get her clear of alcohol, because of his father, because he doesn’t want to lose her to a tragedy. And she responded by saying that he wouldn’t, because he was her whole support system, and she couldn’t do without him.

Somehow, one thing leads to another and as they say their goodbye, standing in front of the condo, Andrés gets closer and closer, and their lips are slammed together. His kiss is soft and warm, filled with want and passion. It leaves Cecilia speechless, and before he can apologize, she is already running to the elevator. Andrés stands there, with his hands on his head, regretting that moment immediately. From the other side of the street, Lily looks at him, with tears in her eyes. She regrets ever coming back for him.