Big Chicas Don't Cry(3)

It was a rhetorical question, of course. I knew the answer. They knew the answer. I just asked it because I still couldn’t quite believe it.

The answer was my boyfriend . . . scratch that . . . my ex-boyfriend. That was who.

“Ugh. I hate that pinche asshole,” I yelled and slapped my steering wheel. Instant pain burned my palm, and I cursed again.

“Maybe you should pull over. It’s not safe for you to be driving when you’re so, um, ragey,” Gracie said through the speaker of my cell phone attached to the dashboard.

“Rage is good. She needs to get it all out now.” Selena’s voice cut through next. “Besides, angry driving is better than weepy driving. Crying will just give her premature wrinkles, and no one wants that. Right?”

Despite my anger, a smile tugged at my lips. While one cousin worried about my safety, her sister fretted about my appearance. It was classic Gracie and Selena. And it comforted me, like always.

That’s why I had texted them 911 as soon as I crawled out of bed about thirty minutes ago. I needed to yell and scream and call Greg all kinds of names—in both English and Spanish. I needed to make some sense of how a man who had told me he loved me could simply walk away after two years together with barely an explanation.

My world had fallen apart last night, and I needed my primas to help me put it back together.

A familiar twinge of sadness pinched my chest. There should’ve been three voices on the other end of the speaker. But I hadn’t even bothered texting Mari this time. Why should I? I was done holding out hope for replies that came days later—if at all.

No, the only cousins I needed to talk to at the moment were the ones on the line.

“I still can’t believe he first tried to break up with you over the phone,” Selena said, her disgust palpable even through the speaker.

I nodded as I glanced out my window at the passing storefronts. “Right? Only reason he finally came over was because I threatened to sell the video games and clothes he kept at my place. He could barely look at me even then, the pinche cabrón.”

“I’m sorry.”

The crack in Gracie’s voice knotted my own throat. Dear Lord, if she started crying, then I was going to lose it too.

I blinked away the wetness behind my eyes. “Knock it off, chillona. You can’t be sorry or sad right now either.”

“I just hate seeing you get hurt . . . again.”

“Me too,” I admitted on a long sigh.

“All right, that’s it. No more feely feelings,” Selena ordered. “Welcome to the single ladies’ club, Erica. You’re going to love it here. There’s lots of tequila and sex and all-around fabulosity.”

“That’s not even a word, Selena.”

The younger Lopez sister groaned. “God, Gracie. Do you always have to be the teacher? I happen to use that word all the time. You’re just irritated because I’m talking about s-e-x again.”

“No I’m not. I don’t know why you think I’m such a prude.”

“Um, because you’re almost thirty and still a virgin?”

“I’m not almost thirty, Selena.”

“Your birthday is only five months away, Gracie.”

Uh-oh. Here we go. I held my breath for what was coming next.

“Just because I don’t talk about sex all the time like you do doesn’t mean I’ve never had it,” Gracie huffed. “Besides, not all virgins are prudes.”

“And you would know this because?”

The sisters bickered more, and the heaviness in my heart lightened. And for the first time that morning, I believed I could get through this day.

“Ya cállate,” I said, trying to get them to shut up. “I’m here.”

“We just parked behind you,” Selena answered.

I glanced in my rearview mirror and watched as my cousins climbed out of Gracie’s beat-up Nissan Maxima. Then my swollen and bloodshot eyes came into focus.

Shit. How was I going to explain those?

With a heavy sigh, I stepped out of my own car and met Selena on the sidewalk in front of our grandparents’ house. I immediately laughed when I saw her full makeup, perfectly curled hair, stylish outfit, and knee-high brown leather boots.

“Selena, it’s fucking five thirty in the morning, and we’re about to go make tamales, not enjoy a few cocktails,” I scoffed before a thought hit me. “Wait, is this what you wore out last night? Have you even been to bed?”

Gracie finally joined us. “She got to the house around one in the morning and then was up at four,” she said, then let out a big yawn.

“Four?” I said and shook my head. I couldn’t imagine ever getting up that early just to put makeup on. My family was lucky I remembered to brush my teeth before heading out the door.

Selena put her hands on her hips. “Beauty means sacrifice. I keep telling you guys that. I like looking my best, no matter who’s going to see me.”

I rolled my eyes and was about to say something sarcastic when she unexpectedly pulled me in for a hug and whispered, “You’re going to get through this. I promise.”

Two more arms wrapped around my shoulders, and Gracie squeezed me tight.

Tears threatened to make my eyes even puffier, so I gently pushed them away and shook my head.