Page 127 of Outspoken

Where’s Mom?

My movements are heavy and slow as I walk to the door and grasp the knob. It’s unlocked, so I push it open. Family members fill the house, but I can’t focus on any faces. I think I hear my name as I stumble across the living room to the hallway. Then I’m in the hallway, moving slowly toward Mom’s room. Fog seeps from my brain, filling my entire body until every inch of me is numb.

Preciosa is curled into a ball in the middle of the bare mattress. No sheets. No pillows. A strange, tart odor hangs heavy in the air, and the dresser and night stands have been moved to one corner of the room.

This is a deserted room. An empty bed.

Where’s Mom?

I sit on the bed to pet the cat, still not getting this, still unable to think clearly.

“I saw her this morning,” I tell Preciosa. “She made me breakfast. She had lots of energy. I just saw her.”

My heart pounds, the rush filling my ears.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Mamá? Por qué tu habitación está hueca?

Maribel shows up in the doorway. Her face is splotchy and red, with tears pooling in her eyes, her hair sticking out at odd angles. She crosses the room to hug me, but I don’t let her. I angle away and hold her back with a hand.

It’s finally starting to hit, a thousand tiny pinpricks on my skin replacing the numbness.

“I just saw her,” I tell Maribel, focusing on the cat and petting her. Mom adored this cat.

Maribel sits next to me on the bare mattress—Mom’s empty mattress—and touches my upper back without speaking. She nods.

“Just this morning,” I say, my voice shakier.

The fog is thinning and I don’t like what I see behind it: future days without Mom’s smile, without her encouragement and presence. My life without her.

How do I get out of bed tomorrow knowing I’m without her?

“I know,” Maribel whispers. “I saw her last week. I wish I got to see her—” Her voice cracks, and she doesn’t continue.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

After clearing her throat, she says, “Patty called me since you were at work. We decided it was safer for you to drive home first. It’s not good driving in a state of shock like that. And you couldn’t have done anything. Patty found her in the bed around noon. The cat was on her chest purring, but Mom was—” She pauses to clear her throat again and forces herself to talk, her voice raspy. “We think she went in her sleep like she always wanted. We knew this day would come. She fought for so many years but never went into full remission. It was coming.”

I stare at Mom’s teal fuzzy slippers on the floor. I gave them to her last Christmas and she’s worn them every day. She was wearing them yesterday while we watched a movie before bed. She was with me yesterday, watching movies and laughing. She made me those eggs this morning, looking perfectly happy and energetic.

Just a few hours ago, she was here.

Now she’s gone?

Everything inside me is crumbling, and I can’t hold myself together much longer. I swallow. “Where is she?”

“The funeral home. Lupita said we needed to keep her here for a few days so family can visit and see her, but Patty said we can’t do that legally. She has to be kept at the funeral home. Bob is there making arrangements. Rico has been calling friends and family. Carlos will fly in tomorrow evening. We’ll have to figure out what to do with her stuff and—”

“No,” I say firmly through my swollen throat. Adrenaline starts pumping. “No oneis coming in here to fucking pick apart her stuff and fight over it. I’ve seen the destruction when other family members have passed. Suddenly everyone wants something. No one is coming in here until I fucking tell them it’s okay.”

I stand. Maribel tries to grab my arm to stop me, but I pull free and storm through the hallway.

I yank the front door open and it bangs against the wall. My voice booms throughout the living room. “Everyone needs to leave my house.Now.”

Rico is on the couch, so he leaps to his feet with wide eyes, startled at my uncharacteristic outburst.

I point at him. “Not you. Rico, Maribel, Angel, Patty can stay. Everyone else. Please, go.”

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