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Not everything.
I’ll never tell him about last year. He doesn’t need to know that Dalton took advantage of my insecurities to win a bet and take those nudes of me. Miggy is a calm and gentle giant, but he would kill Dalton. I don’t need my brother in jail. I don’t need any of my family in jail.
So, I tell him about the letter and how my birth parents are dead, and I don’t know if I should go back there. I refuse to call it home. This house is my home and always will be.
Miggy nods along, letting me air it all out, and then turns to me with the most serious expression I’ve ever seen grace his face. “You don’t need to forgive them.”
I let out a choked laugh. Miguel is the most forgiving person, so hearing that out of him, you can’t help but laugh even if you want to cry.
“Sally.” His voice is still as stern as his face.
I cringe at the fact that I’m laughing about forgiving them. Shouldn’t I forgive them? Who doesn’t forgive dead people? Someone awful—which, last I checked, I am awful.
“I know I forgave my dad after all the years of him hitting me, but just because I forgave him doesn’t mean you, Ella, or Leon have to forgive your birth parents.”
“Shouldn’t I give in, though? What good does hating them get me now?” My voice sounds weak, choked up on the sobs that want to break out.
“It gives you power. You didn’t choose to be abused, and now you have the choice to continue hating them or forgive them.”
This is all too much. I hang my head, which causes Miggy to wrap his arm around my shoulder and pull us closer. “I don’t know what to do. Can’t you just tell me?”
“No can do, sis. This is a you thing, but we can talk about it all night. No place I’d rather be.”
Family dinners should be lighthearted.
Moms ask us about our day; we ask about theirs. We tell them a joke, and they try to turn it into a life lesson.
That’s how it usually goes, but not today.
“I just need to put this all behind me.” I try my best to hide the quiver in my voice.
Mama glides her nails over her shaven head. She rarely wears her wigs at home anymore. Her shoulders are tense, but she’s trying to stay calm because Ma has been staring—no, glaring—at the letter.
Mama leans to the side, kissing Ma’s shoulder before whispering something in her ear. Ma’s frown turns into a small smile.
“I know this is a lot. Trust me, this has caused a whiplash of emotions,” I try again.
“Honey.” Mama sits back down after placing a kiss on Ma’s head. “I’m just nervous about you being in an unfamiliar place for a week.”
“It’s not technically unfamiliar,” I say.
“You haven’t been there in six years, Sally,” Ma comes back in, just as stern as before. I feel like one of her firefighters getting scolded for messing with protocol.
“We’d feel better if we went with you.”
“You guys can’t.” They really can’t, not with their busy schedule.
Ma is the fire captain here in town, which means most of the time she’s also helping the neighboring towns. And I hate the idea of pulling Mama away from her job. Mama works as a 911 operator and at the mental health hotline, and I know she loves her job because it means helping people in need.
Funny enough, that’s how my parents met. Mama was recovering from a failed engagement with a man she had zero attraction to, and Ma fell in love with her voice and even more in love with her after they met.
“You can’t go alone.”
“She won’t,” Ella spoke up for the first time since we started this dinner. “I’ll go with her.”
I look at my sister, feeling tears well up. I don’t think she actually wants to go anywhere this summer, but she knows this is important to me.
“Moms, if it makes you feel better, I’ll go too.” Mimi wraps an arm around my shoulder, drawing me into her side.
