Page 1 of Ridin' True
Alexia
ItwasearlySundayafternoon, and we were just getting back from mass. Admittedly, I wasn’t the most faithful Catholic. I didn’t go to church every Sunday, but I went when I had the extra time. I knew it made mami happy when I did, and there was something kind of comforting about the ritual of the whole thing. It was reliably unchanging.
Reliability wasn’t something I had a lot of in my life.
At least, not the good kind.
I pulled into the familiar driveway behind mami’s mini-van. She and my younger sister, Isabella, got out and started for the house. My niece and I, who opted to ride home with me because I was the cool auntie who blasted the music of her choice on our drive, hadn’t even bothered to unbuckle our seatbelts.
We were too busy singing along with Taylor Swift at the top of our lungs.
Giselle was six; and even though her mom had told her dad they were never getting back together, she sang the song with way more heart than I knew she truly understood. Even I, at thirty-three, didn’t fully understand the perils of trying to make an unworkable relationship work before giving up—but it didn’t matter.
Ellie, Taylor and I were in the middle of our own epic Toyota Corolla concert.
The song was about to come to an end when we were interrupted by knuckles rapping against my window.
“The whole neighborhood can hear that, you know!” cried Bella. “You’ll make her hard of hearing before she’s ten.”
I rolled the window down, lowering the volume as it went. “I’m sorry, was that loud?”
Bella rolled her eyes, and I turned to wink at Ellie who giggled from the backseat.
Her long, dark hair was pulled up into pigtails, little bows clasped around each one. Her chocolate eyes and full lashes were her father’s, but the rest of her was all Isabella. I was convinced, there was not another six-year-old on the planet as adorable as my niece.
“Come on you two. I’m starving.”
Ellie and I got out, Ellie racing around the front of my car to join her mother while I made my way to the trunk to gather my bag of dirty clothes.
I chipped in enough that it wasn’t a burden on anyone for me to spend Sunday afternoons doing laundry at the house—but attending mass and sticking around for lunch ensured mami didn’t give me grief for only stopping by because I was out of clean clothes.
It was the last weekend in May, and the end of a long dry-spell of months with no federal holidays. Memorial Day meant I wouldn’t have to be in the office the next day. Any work I needed to catch up on before the week began could wait until tomorrow, so I intended to move slowly and enjoy my family for the afternoon.
Isabella and Giselle lived with mami in the house where we grew up. It was a moderate, single level, three-bedroom home that had seen its fair share of change. Bella never really left. When she was off and on with Felix, she lived with him occasionally—but after Giselle was born, home was the safest place for the both of them.
“Change out of your dress, mama, then wash up and help abuela set the table. And if I find that dress on the floor, you’ll be in trouble.”
“Okay, mommy,” Ellie replied, shutting herself in the first room off the open living space.
Her room used to be Alejandro’s. Isabella’s before that—back when Alejandro and I shared a bedroom. That lasted until we hit puberty and I begged mami to move Bella in with me. Much as I’d wanted my own room, I knew that wasn’t an option. When given the choice between my smelly twin or my baby sister, I knew it would be better for all of us to give Alejo his own space.
“Alexia, once you get a load started, help me with the rice, would you?”
“Yes, mami.” I made my way through the kitchen toward the laundry room off the back of the house, and it didn’t take me long to sort my first batch into the wash.
I started the machine and frowned at the questionable noise it made as it kicked on. It only lasted a second, but it was still cause for concern. I knew the machine was getting old, and it was bound to need replacing sooner than later. Moreover, I knew I would be the one replacing it if it gave out—not simply because I made use of it every week or so and would be stuck going to the laundromat without it, but because I was the only one who used it and could also afford to replace it.
Except, the money in my savings was still recovering from the last family emergency that put a dent in it. Ireallydidn’t want to buy a new washing machine.
I said a silent prayer that it wouldn’t die and then went to help with the rice.
I was grabbing the cutting board for the jalapenos, onions, and cilantro when Bella joined us, dressed down in cut-off shorts and a tank top. She kept her hair cropped in what she liked to call hermom-cut, her wavy locks trimmed right at her shoulders. She was a little shorter than me, at five-four; and while she might have had the hips of a woman who’d given birth, she was otherwise petit.
After all Ellie's years, she still griped about the loss of her milk-rack.
We Torres women were destined for B-cups.
“You work tonight?” I asked.
