Page 107 of The Right Garza
My entire life,everyonein my family—except Mama—irritated me. That irritation then morphed into resentment when Mama got sick, and no one stepped up to the plate. Yet, somehow, the two weeks that I’ve been here with them so far has filled a hole in me that I had no idea was even there.
Only now do I understand why, as dependent, unambitious, and unreliable as these people are, Mama still keeps them around.
I still don’t like them, and I’m still chafed by them, but I do love them.
Taking another a swig of beer, I walk over to the dominoes table, pull out a chair, and join the game.
~
It’s around 2 a.m. when I pull myself away from the game table with a yawn and bid my family goodnight. It’s the weekend, so they’ll probably go all night, and Icannotkeep up with them.
I cross the street to Monica’s. With five kiddies crammed in my old room, there’s zero space at the house for me aside from Mama’s bed, so Monica welcomed me into hers, as usual.
Letting myself inside with the key she gave me, I’m not expecting anyone to be up at this time, but a soft yellow glow spills into the entryway from the living room.
As I pad into the room and round the large family couch, Monica comes into view. She’s on the floor, her knees tucked under her, albums and loose photos scattered all around her. A large album is opened in her lap, her head down, a curtain of tight curls hiding her face.
“Monica?”
She must not have heard me come in because she jerks in surprise, her head snapping up.
And my heart falters at the rivulet of tears down her face, the clumping wetness of her lashes.
With quick hands, she tries to wipe them away. “Oh, hey, Lexi. I thought you’d gone up already.”
I clutch the keys in my hand and point dumbly in the direction of the front windows. “No, I was playing dominoes with the fam.”
She bites her lip and nods. “That’s good. That’s really good. Family is good.”
I go and kneel down beside her amidst all the open albums and loose photos. Wedding photos, baby photos, birthday parties, beach days… “Do you mind if I ask what’s wrong?”
With a jerky shake of her head, she brushes her fingers over one of the pictures in the album on her lap. It’s a picture of the entire immediate family: Her, Flavio, Tripp, Tillie, True, Trent, Torin, and…me. Torin’s arm is around my shoulders, and though it looks casual in the photo, I’m certain we were dating in secret here.
I don’t remember exactly when this photo was taken, but in it we are by the poolside in the backyard, all grinning happily.
“I just wish I could go back…into these moments,” Monica murmurs. “I miss them so much.”
Most mothers would be happy that their kids have grown up, moved out, and no longer needed them. But I’ve been around here long enough to understand who Monica is: She’s a nurturer. She lives to give of herself and thrives on being needed. Her family is her purpose.
Knowing that, it will be a waste of time to remind her that, with the exception of her beloved Flavio, she still has her family. If I do, she would tell me “it’s not the same” and I would understand what she means.
So, I reach down and flip to the next picture in the album, and together we look through them, all of them, reminiscing on memories that aren’t even mine.
~
Monica falls asleepon the couch while regaling me with stories of her boys when they were kiddies. I fetch a blanket from upstairs to cover her, then quietly gather up the albums and pack them away.
After, I take a warm bath and climb in bed, but have trouble falling asleep. Restless, I flip back the covers and pad out to the kitchen and make myself a cup of chamomile tea in the hopes that it’ll help.
Mug hot between my palms, I meander about the house as I sip chamomile, the heat warming me from the inside out. I’ve somehow found myself outside Trent’s old room.
I test the knob and discover it’s unlocked.
I let myself in.
It looks just as I remember it—Lakers posters all over the dark-blue walls, a chest covered in basketball stickers at the foot of the bed, a desk and chair next to the window, a beanbag in the corner, and a basketball hoop on the far wall.
Though, it didn’t used to be as clean and tidy as it is right now.Because he’s no longer here, duh.
