Page 32 of Fourth Base with the Alpha
“Oh,” I say, stopping still, genuinely surprised. “Wow, they are beautiful.”
“¡Hermosas flores1!” my grandma says, hobbling over from the kitchen sink to pat my cheeks. “Just like you,querida.”
“He must be smitten,” my mom comments from a chair at the kitchen table blowing across a cup of coffee.
“Debe estar enamorado2.”He must be in love.My grandma beams at me and my stomach churns. “Do you want me to put them in a vase for you?”
I shake my head, leaning down to sniff the faint floral perfume, my eyes watering as I do, and pinch the tiny white envelope protruding from the bouquet on a plastic stick. “I’m going to take them to Maria.”
The kitchen is silent for a moment. Our loss hanging heavy in the air. The house is quieter now she’s gone.
“They’ll only set off my allergies if I keep them anyway.”
I untuck the flap of the envelope and slide out the rectangle of ivory card. To my surprise I recognize Hunter’s handwriting. Which must mean he didn’t send Kim to buy these, and didn’t order them over the phone. He actually went to the shop to pick them out. My heart does a little skip.
“¿Quieres desayunar algo, Isabella3?” my grandma asks me. “Puedo prepararte unos huevos4.”
“Yes, please.” I pour myself a coffee from the pot and join my mom at the table. She worked a late shift last night so I doubt she was up long before me.
“What does it say?” she asks.
I read the writing. His handwriting is neat and firm and seems entirely suited to the man.
Thanks for the dance last night.
I slip the card into my pocket. My mom eyes me from the other side of the table.
“Is it rude?”
“No!” I blow across my coffee. “Just personal.”
From the other side of the kitchen I hear butter sizzle in the pan and my grandmother begins to hum under her breath. The aroma of the cooking butter fills the small kitchen and my stomach growls.
“Did you eat yesterday, Isabella?”
“A little.” I was pretty nervous and excited before the event and there hadn’t been a whole lot to eat there. It had mostly been drinks. The reason my head is sore this morning.
“You need to eat. You’re wasting away. Isn’t she Mama?”
“¿Qué?”
“Isabella is wasting away.”
“She needs to eat more. Men like a woman they can hang on to.” My grandmother waves her wooden spoon at me, emphasizing her point.
I roll my eyes. It’s true I have lost a little weight over the last few months. It’s been hard to eat. Food isn’t as enjoyable as it was.
But this morning I have an appetite. This morning my heart is light. It’s the first time I’ve felt this way in months. I polish off the scrambled eggs and toast, gaining hums of approval from my mom and grandmother.
* * *
It’sanother glorious sunny day as I catch the bus up the hill to the spot we found for Maria. The view up here whips your breath away; LA stretching for miles, houses sprawled among the lush green and the sea sparkling right in the distance. Maria always loved a view. Before she got ill, she’d insist on dragging me up any steep incline she could find, packing a picnic so we could sit on top of the world and gaze down at everyone and everything below us. She said it made her feel like a god.
She would have loved this spot. But as I trace the familiar path through the gravestones that lightness in my heart floats away, leaving me hollow and empty.
I stop in front of her stone. No longer freshly carved. The winds up here have beaten away the sharpness of the lettering already. We chose her a simple stone with simple words but I hate looking at it, even with the decorations we’ve arranged around it. A pot of her favorite pink flowers, her teddy bear and a picture of our family in a frame. It still looks so lonely and the thought of her here without us, lying in the hard cold ground, has the tears streaming down my cheeks every time.
Mami says I don’t have to come if it makes me so sad. But I can’t leave her here alone. We were always together and no longer having her here beside me hurts my empty heart so badly I can hardly bear it.
