Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
All loves aren’t created equal. Some spring from the earth and wrap around and twine through our souls like vines. Some are plants that start with tiny seeds in your heart and blossom over time, nurtured by years and commitment. Bray was Mami’s vine, a tall, handsome giant of a man. Abuela used to joke that Bray swept Mami off her feet. My father caught her when she fell. Bray wasn’t a good husband, but he was a terrific father, so he was always in Lola’s life. Always in our lives.
Once he dropped Lola off after a weekend visit, and I caught him with Mami in the kitchen. My sweet mother, who lingered after work to flip through the library’s new arrivals and loved the smell of books. Who knit in the evenings, glasses sliding down her nose while she watched Pat and Vanna on Wheel of Fortune. When I walked into the kitchen, she was clutching Bray like he was air and she was suffocating. His hands were everywhere. On her ass, in her hair, which had tumbled down her back, loosened from the neat knot she always kept rolled at her nape. Her glasses lay forgotten on the floor. They made desperate, starved, craving sounds, and I understood that this was not what she had with my father. I stepped back, afraid they’d see, but I stayed at the door.
“I can’t,” I heard her whisper, tears in her voice. “Bray, we have to stop. Jason.”
My father’s name in the middle of all that passion was like a shot ringing out in a quiet forest. Bray didn’t come inside our house after that. Lola would instead bounce down the steps to his car, but sometimes I’d catch him looking, longing.
He attended my father’s funeral, and I believe he respected him. That he’d stayed away out of respect not only for Mami, but also for my dad. But once Mami was a widow, Bray couldn’t stay away. With us girls all gone from the house to pursue college and life, they started up again. My abuela would tut and shake her head, muttering about the power of the polla, but it was more than that. When Mami was diagnosed with cervical cancer, Bray never left her side. And when she passed away, at the funeral he wept unashamedly. I never knew if it was just for her passing or for the years they’d missed because when he’d met the love of his life, he hadn’t been ready for her.
I still don’t crack the journal open even now. Maybe one day I’ll work up the nerve.
There is also a ticket to a Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam concert. She was our freestyle queen. I can still hear Mami belting “All Cried Out” and “I Wonder If I Take You Home” while she cooked arroz con gandules for dinner.
Next is a folded cloth. I take it out and unfurl it, my heart singing with pride to see the first Puerto Rican flag, that of the Grito de Lares, a symbol of rebellion against colonization. A battle cry for independence.
Finally, at the bottom of the chest, beneath a threadbare cardigan, lies the prized possession of kitchens in my family for years. A machete with a mother-of-pearl handle and surprisingly sharp blade. Women of my family have used this to cut back brush when seeking fruit and vegetables. It has split coconuts and sliced through pork shoulders. It goes back three generations, and the weight of it in my hands somehow connects to the weight in my heart, threads it through my soul like the eye of a needle. I feel these items stitching me together in a way I can’t explain but appreciate.
The respite from anxiety these things, her things, bring is short-lived. My phone buzzes in the bedroom. I blow out a short breath, stand, and carefully replace the chest in its cubby. When I walk back out to the bedroom, my phone is lit up with a text message.
Lottie: Don’t forget I need to be at the gym by 3:30 today. Coach wants to go over the new routine before next week’s meet.
Me: I got you. See you at carpool.
Lottie: And can you bring string cheese? I’ll be starving!
It’s ironic that Edward believes I have so much leisure time when it usually feels like my life revolves around my family and this house, both of which I love so much. But when is it time for me?
“Certainly not now,” I mutter, grabbing my purse and a sweatshirt to slide over my head as I run down the steps and to the garage.
CHAPTER SEVEN
JUDAH
Any update on the situation with Barnes?” Brett Callahan asks, fixing his eyes on me from the other end of the boardroom.
“He’s still in custody and not talking,” I tell the room full of directors since our CEO obviously assumes I should know. “I remain in close communication and cooperation with the Feds, but we’re pretty hands-off at this point, unless they need something clarified or to follow up with more questions. I did convey I suspected that coward had planned a way to run. The FBI followed that thought and discovered the ticket to Bali. He’s been deemed a flight risk. No bail.”