Page 128 of Outspoken

Two cousins in a corner exchange an iffy look. One of them is holding a figurine of Guadalupe that my mother loved. I yank it from his greedy hands and push him toward the door.

“I’m serious,” I bark out. “Everyoneleave.”

Family members pile out, some not looking at me, others giving me annoyed glances. Once all the vultures are gone, I slam the front door and then stare at my hands. I set the Guadalupe figurine on a side table, afraid my shaky hands might drop it.

The emptiness of not having Mom here is all around me. Even though Rico, Maribel, and Patty are still inside, this is the loneliest I’ve ever felt. I can’t take it. Everything floods out, and I’m powerless to do a damn thing.

Mom had so much energy these past few weeks. I thought she was finally getting better. I thought her new meds were making a difference. She kept talking about all of her plans for the future. Everything she wanted to do. Food she wanted to try. Family she wanted to visit. Places in Cali she wanted to see.

I thought she’d have time for all of it.

I thought we would have more time.

Our years together when I was growing up, visiting after I moved out of state, and spending the past six years helping with her care…it’s a lot of time on paper, but not enough in real life.

Mamá, this is really it? Qué hago sin ti?

Maribel is behind me, touching my back as my shoulders shake. “I know,” she says softly. “I know.”

I face her, choking out, “But Ijustsaw her.”

Maribel’s bottom lip trembles and tears streak her cheeks. My sister has always been the strong one. The last time I saw her cry was when we were kids.

What I’m witnessing shocks me to my core. My sister crying means this is real. Mom’s really gone and there’s no way to bring her back. My mamá, my support, my guidance, my sweet old angel in a house dress, my source of faith, my comfort, my joy, my well of unconditional love, the person who knows me better that anyone in this world. Mamá.

Gone.

A sob rips from my throat as Maribel yanks me into a tight hug. I claw the back of her shirt, finally letting the emotions out.

We stand by the front door clinging to each other, falling apart together.

Chapter Thirty-One

Amber

BRODY PARKS ON THE CURB because the tiny church parking lot is full. Paige is in the passenger seat next to Brody, while I’m in the back of his sedan. We’re all in black—Brody in an actual suit, me and Paige in simple black dresses and flats.

I can’t deny that seeing Brody in a suit like this is bringing up unpleasant memories of our mom’s funeral. Mostly, how I acted. I made it through half of the service and then excused myself to drink from a flask in the bathroom. My mind is blank after that. I don’t even remember them lowering Mom’s casket into the ground.

That’s a memory I’d like to have but one I took away from myself.

Paige chews the bottom of her brown ponytail while fidgeting with her phone. She scans the mob lingering outside the open church doors. A large steeple juts into the sky, filled with lots of colorful windows.

“She was a great woman,” I say, “so I’m not surprised this many people came to her funeral.”

I turn my head in the opposite direction to look at the ocean. The church isn’t too far away, and it’s elevated, so there’s a clear view of the beach. It’s a crisp, sunny day with warm light shining off the blue shimmery water. Since it’s Saturday, a lot of people are at the beach running around in the sand, surfing, or laying on their backs getting roasted.

It’s strange to look at everyone out there having a normal day. Here we are confronting death and grieving while others in the world are oblivious, joyful, and enjoying life.

At my own mother’s funeral, realizing that made me so pissed. I was pissed that strangers didn’t somehow know how much I was hurting. I scowled at their smiles and laughter, even cussing and calling them names. Since I was hurting, I wanted them to hurt, too.

Pretty shitty. But Old Amber was a mess. Today, I’m going to sit quietly and cry, and I’ll do what I can to support Miguel. Doesn’t matter if we can’t be together in the long run. I know he’s hurting, so I’m going to be here for him.

Hopefully, that’s okay. Now that we’re parked, I’m having doubts. Will seeing me just make him sadder?

I know it’ll cause me some emotional issues.

While my stomach does flips, I touch Brody’s shoulder. “You sure it’s okay for me to be here? I feel out of place. I don’t know if I should go in.”

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