Page 20 of The Right Garza
“Oh, for the love of God, I’m notwithany of them. Trent is just helping me out with something.”
She makes a sound like she doesn’t believe me as she pulls on a cigarette. “Be careful when asking men for help,niña. Hombres, they do not do women favors for free. They always want something.”
Uncle Franco points his beer bottle in the direction Trent just went. “Especially that one. I watched him enlist hisgemeloand the little one to face-off with the older one for ‘stealing his girl’. The older one whooped their littleculos.”
“Ah,si, si, I remember that night!” Uncle Lenny chips in. “It was me and you out here, Franco. We had a good laugh that night.”
“What on earth are you talking about?” I ask, confused as all get out. “What fight? When?”
My stupid uncles just smile at me as if they know something I don’t.
“I think what your uncles are saying,” Marie pitches, “is to watch out with that one.”
Alicia returns just then with a loaded plate of food and two beers.
These freaking people.
I eat the food and drink the beer and play a couple rounds of dominoes with my family, because I know it’s going to be a while before I come see them again. I’ve spent almost my entire life love-hating them for being complete mooches, unhelpful, and tight-fisted with their own earnings while Mama had to bend her back to cover the bills. But no matter how far I go, or how long I’ve been gone for, whenever I return, it always feels like I never left. They drink, they eat, they laugh, theylive, and they love. Even if it’s at the cost of someone else. Maybe that’s the reason Mama keeps them around; so she never has to be alone.
In a way, begrudgingly, I’m sort of glad they’re here. To be able to support Mama monetarily means I’m never around, so I’m somewhat grateful that they’re here to keep her laughing and living. So she’ll never die inside.
Like I have.
When my head starts to feel a bit fuzzy from the beers, I play my last game and stumble into the house. It looks different, but the same. Cluttered, floral, homey, with the same plastic-covered couch set.
I wander down the hall and stop to peek into my old room. All semblance ofmeis gone. There are two bunk beds on either side of the room with kids fast asleep in them, and an air mattress in the middle. Packed room.
I close the door quietly and amble to Mama’s room—the last one at the end of the hall with a crucifix affixed to the door and rosary beads dangling from the knob. It’s been like that since I was a child.
I test the doorknob. It’s unlocked. Quietly, I open it and peek inside. She’s asleep on her side, the duvet pulled up to her neck. My heart swells with love and warmth. I love that woman so much. Would do anything for her.
Entering the room, I close the door quietly behind me. I remove my shoes and set them aside, then shuffle to the bed and climb in.
I wrap my arm around her.
She stirs. Stiffens. Then relaxes. “Mija?”
“Sí mamá.”
“God protected your journey home,si? Thank him.”
“Gracias, Dios, por protegerme.”
Thank you, God, for protecting me.
“Amén.”
“Te quiero, mamá.”
“Yo también te amo, hija mía.”
I love you too, my daughter.
Chapter NINE
“It was always gonna be him, wasn’t it?”
Lexi
