Page 41 of Morena
5. Lucia, don't go, my love.
6. I love you, love.
7. Of course.
III.
LuciaandCarmenwerein the kitchen holding hands. I didn’t even know all three of them were close friends, because Mom never mentioned Lucia before, only Carmen. And everything happened at Carmen’s house. People came, people left. She paid for the whole funeral the next day. No one even heard a thing from my father.
My sister played such a great part in grieving; she was always on Francisco’s chest, even though no tears made his shirt wet.
I spent most of the time upstairs, shut in, because I couldn’t stand to see anyone. Everyone faked it so much, so well. They were all grieving, but no one did anything to help.
Every time I closed my eyes, I wondered when she died. Was it while I was leaving, or before I even lay down next to her? If I thought deeper, all I saw were that girl’s dead eyes, which made me wonder what my mother’s eyes had been like when she died. What was the last thing she saw? How I never got to say goodbye.
It’s always that last goodbye that hurts the most. It hurt me that I said nothing to her, that I just left through the door.
So I whispered into a pillow as I hugged it to my chest, “Mom, you were loved, and I am sorry. I am sorry you had to take every punch so we wouldn’t hurt. I am sorry you had to die alone. I am sorry I wasn’t there. But if I had been there, if you had let me say goodbye, I would tell you that you will go to a better place. If there is a heaven, you are there, with wings, flying away. I would ask you to look after me, because I would be too broken to live after you left us. And I would say that if I ever have someone to love, like you loved me, I would name her Dolores, like your name was.”
I wiped my tears as I heard footsteps. There was one knock at the door before Francisco entered and closed it behind him. He handed me a cookie and a cup of tea from Carmen, and said the words I had heard so many times today:
“Time will heal. You will feel better.”
I didn’t even turn.
But then he said, “You won’t feel better.”
He sat on the bed.
“No one will bring her back, and I don’t know exactly how you feel, but I know you are strong. If you are as strong a woman as I think you are, you will get through this.”
I sniffed.1“Gracias, Paco.”
He smiled. “Does this mean we are friends?”
“Maybe,” I said, wiping my tears away.
“I’ll leave you now, but it’s okay to cry, you know.” He pressed his palm to my cheek.
I nodded. “I know.”
He got up and walked out the door, leaving me alone in the room. I rolled to the opposite side, and as I opened my eyes, something moved in the shadows. My heart began to pound, andthe room went cold. I rolled onto my back and closed my eyes again.
When I opened them, a face hovered above mine. The girlEl Trecehad killed hung there, as though gravity had forgotten her. Her hair was covering her face. But once her eyes found mine, I screamed so loud I heard footsteps running up.
She whispered,“You are next.”
I lifted and curled at the edge of my bed, holding my knees to my chest, staring at the front door, and waiting for someone to come, pinching my skin.
This isn’t a dream.
Carmen and Lucia both came in and sat on each side of the bed. Carmen looked at me like she already knew, and pulled me close to her chest while Lucia’s hand rested on my thigh.
“You will be okay,mi vida,2you will be okay,“ Carmen said.
“I am afraid,” I whispered into her shirt.
“I know,” she said. “You can sleep in my room tonight.”
