I scan the outside once more until I hear muffled voices coming from the window closest to my bed. I forgot I left it open to let in the cool, late-October breeze that just warms my soul this time of year. Luckily, I’m not leaving the state, so I can hold on to those beloved New York autumns that are so dear to my heart.
I move toward the side window that is open, now hearing the muffled voices more clearly.
I can see Titi Lana’s chocolate hair pinned back in a bun as her back is turned in what looks to be a deep conversation with that creepy-ass woman next door, Miranda.
Just as I am about to close the window, Miranda’s gaze shifts from whatever she and Lana are talking about directly up at me.Shit.Feeling like I just got caught doing something I shouldn’t be doing; I panic and slam the door. Granted, I was eavesdropping, and while that’s rude, sure, it’s not against the law.
Eager to find out what Titi Lana is doing so engrossed in conversation with Miranda, I hurry and gather my duffel bag and the rest of the boxes, minus the heavy one filled with books. That will no doubt have to be a two-woman job.
I trek down the stairs and head toward the front door. Placing the boxes down, I prop the storm door, so it remains open, making moving everything out much easier. I step out onto the porch, trying to discreetly inch closer to the side of the porch that overlooks Miranda’s driveway. There is a tall bush that gives minimal privacy, but it is enough that I can eavesdrop hopefully undetected.
As I approach where they stand, I overhear what sounds like Miranda whispering.
“I’m telling you; I haven’t seen him smile in ages,” she says tearfully.
I try to perch myself toward the bush to get a better look as I see Titi Lana go to embrace Miranda. Lana holds Miranda for a few seconds before releasing her. “Miranda, it will be okay. It’s all going to work out, just as we all discussed.”
I go to shift my stance, forgetting that my heavy duffel bag is still slung around my shoulder, when I so gracefully lose my footing and trip. I scratch my cheek on the bush that I was attempting to use as a cover. My duffel bag drops, and even with the small cover I still have despite my fall, I feel both of their eyes on me.
“Sienna?” I hear Titi Lana call out.
I collect myself before I wave over to their direction.
“Hey, Titi, I was just packing and heard your car door slam. I wanted to see if you could help me move a few heavier boxes downstairs before Nessa gets here.” I say, trying to make my presence on the porch seem more legitimate than nosy.
“Ok, no problem, Sienna. I’ll be right there,” Lana says, unaware of the frigid stare Miranda has on me. This is the closest I have been to her, other than our daily window staring contests. The white streak I knew Miranda had looks even more pronounced as we stand but a few feet from each other. Even more distinct than her hair is the eerie way her eyes match the ebony of her hair. Black as night and fixed on me with an intense look of disgust mixed with what I can only assume to be pity. She holds her gaze on me a few moments more before redirecting her attention back to Lana.
I’m about to head back inside when the sun pokes out from the clouds, shining down on the patch of grass between both houses. It’s as if the sun is a spotlight trying to highlight Miranda, because as she and Lana go back to whatever they are talking about, I suddenly notice the gold chain around her neck. I notice that the chain that graces her décolletage has a charm of acoquidangling from it.
My heart flutters with the unexpected reminder of Mama. I remember the first time we visited Mama and Titi Lana’s hometown of Caguas, Puerto Rico. At night, my Grandma Isa would leave the windows open, and the sound of thecoquischirping filled the air. The singing frog of Puerto Rico, a symbol of the island that I wish I was able to visit more.
My Grandma Isa never approved of Mama and Papa. She felt that Mama was betraying the Diaz name by marrying a Ricci. My Grandfather Rico died when Mama and Titi Lana were both young, so he never was able to choose who Mama could marry. When Mama went to New York for college and came back to the island with an Italian man, Grandma Isa saw that as a betrayal to the family. As the years passed, Mama gave up seeking her mother’s approval, so the trips to the magical island dwindled, until we just stopped going all together.
Maybe Miranda is someone Mama and Titi Lana knew from Puerto Rico?
I hear Nessa’s car pull up to my house, stealing my attention from Lana and Miranda. I walk across the porch and down the steps to meet her.
“Hey, girl, you ready?” Nessa asks as she slams the door of her Civic.
She recently got promoted to detective, so she doesn’t have to wear those God-awful, navy blue, rigid police uniforms. Instead, she has on a pair of black, flared pants with a black bodysuit underneath a gingham blazer. If it weren’t for her badge and Glock attached to her work belt, you’d think she just left a corporate job or a swanky dinner spot.
“Yea, I just need your help putting these boxes in your car, and I have one more upstairs that’s pretty heavy,” I say, pointing to the stack I made before I tried listening in on Lana and Miranda’s chat.
“You got it.” Nessa takes off her blazer, resting it on the rail of the porch before she bends down to collect the first few boxes she sees.
I grab my duffel bag and the remaining boxes and follow Nessa to her car. She’s been driving the same Civic hatchback since our freshman year of college.
I wait with her as she fumbles with the key fob, trying to get the button to connect to the trunk so it can open. Flustered, she decides to flip the fob side over to the key side and manually open the trunk.
We pile the boxes into her trunk as I look over to see Lana seeming to hug Miranda goodbye and head over to me and Nessa.
“This car is such a piece of shit. I only use it when I come up to visit you, and now that you will finally be in the city, it’s about time I say peace out,” she says, slamming her trunk shut with visible excitement.
“Oh, shit, Nes. We still have that heavy box I was telling you about, upstairs in my room that I need your help with,” I remind her.
“No worries,” I hear Titi Lana say to Miranda as she comes over with puffy eyes. It looks like she has been crying.
“Titi, are you ok?” I ask as I see creepy Miranda still standing in her driveway, staring.Fucking shocker.
