Big Chicas Don't Cry(60)

“What? I’m sorry. I guess I must have been daydreaming,” I told him and put the fork back down on the table. “You know I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Yes, of course, I know.” His exasperation was obvious.

Esteban was still awake when I’d returned from the hospital last night. He’d held me and let me cry. At some point I couldn’t tell if my tears were because of Welita or because it had felt so good to be with him like that.

And for the first night in a long time, I didn’t go downstairs to bake.

It was just after five a.m. when I finally crawled out of bed. I knew he still had thirty minutes until he had to wake up, so I left him sleeping. Then I decided to have my espresso in the backyard to watch the sunrise. I had no idea what time it was now. Or why Esteban looked so irritated.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, trying to read Letty’s concerned face.

He sighed. “I can’t leave for court until you tell me where your keys are so I can move your car to get mine out of the garage,” he scolded. “And, of course, you’ve probably forgotten that Letty is taking the Mercedes to get a tune-up. Sometimes, Mari, I really don’t know what you would do without me. Where are the keys?”

“I told you last week that I was going to take the Mercedes and that Letty didn’t need to do it for me,” I argued. I hated when he talked to me like he was talking to a child.

“And have you done it? No. So I asked Letty to do it today.”

“But that’s not her job,” I insisted.

Esteban looked at his watch. “I don’t have time for this. I told you I needed to stop by the office before court, and now I might not be able to do that. Please go get your keys.”

He followed behind me as I climbed the stairs, still complaining that I was making him late for all the important things he had to do that day. I wanted to scream that I was important too. But I was too tired. The keys were in the pocket of my sundress that I had worn last night to the hospital. After I gave them to Esteban, he stormed out of the house, and Letty said she would be back soon. And then I was alone. My big house seemed bigger. Or did I just feel smaller? I walked back to the patio and sat back down at the table with my cold espresso and matching silverware.

And when Letty came back a few hours later, I was still sitting in my bathrobe in the same exact spot.

“The car is in the garage, and I left the keys on the table in the foyer,” she said quietly as she sat down next to me.

“I’m sorry you had to do that, Letty. Esteban was wrong to ask you.”

She shrugged. “It’s fine. I don’t mind helping if you need the help.”

I rubbed my tired eyes. “I’m not a child, you know. I was actually on my way to the mechanic yesterday, but that’s when I got the call about my welita.”

“I don’t think you are a child, Marisol,” she responded and covered my hand with hers. “How is she?”

“She might not make it,” I whispered, and tears stung my eyes. “And it hurts me to know that I may not see her again. I should’ve visited her more often. I should’ve called her more than I did. And now that I might lose her, I just feel so much regret.”

I covered my face in my hands and cried.

“I am sorry, Marisol. I know how difficult it is to lose someone you love,” she told me.

Of course Letty understood. She lost her daughter to meningitis when she was only eight years old. Her husband was killed a few years ago in a car accident. She once told me that my hiring her had saved her life. Because now she had a new family to take care of.

“Does it still hurt to think about your husband and daughter?” I asked after I’d stopped crying.

“Of course,” she said softly. “Family is the most important thing in this world. Sometimes, though, you don’t realize it until you don’t have it anymore.”

“What if your family does something to hurt you?”

She seemed to think about this for a moment. “People aren’t perfect, Marisol. We all make mistakes, and the only thing we can do is hope that we are forgiven. I know you don’t like to talk about your parents, and I’m not saying you should. I just think that sometimes holding on to only the bad things that happened to us leaves us too tired to enjoy the good.”

And with that, she stood and let go of my hand.

“I hope your abuelita gets better, Marisol. When you’re ready to eat, come back inside and I’ll make you something.”

I sat on the patio for a little longer, thinking about my family and how far away I felt from them in every way.

My mom was in another state—it wasn’t like she was going to drop everything and be a part of my life like a real mom. And if I was being truthful about things, she had never acted like a real mom even when I was growing up.

And although I wanted to blame my dad for that, too, a part of me knew that wasn’t totally his fault. But that didn’t mean I needed him in my life either.

He’d tried to talk to me at the hospital, but I hadn’t been in the mood. He’d followed me to the parking lot, and I jumped when he called out my name.

“I just wanted to make sure you got to your car safe. It’s dark out here,” he said.

“Thanks,” I responded and then turned my back on him again to open my door.