Without looking away, she muttered, “Get a chair. Face away from the TV.”
I dragged a chair over and sat. She worked methodically, almost robotically, while thenovelaplayed. I half-expected to look like a circus clown when she was done. It was only during a commercial break that she studied my face for real.
“Mom said Elliott was here the other day.”
She didn’t pry; it was just an understanding between us. One sentence was enough to unravel everything.
“Yeah,” I muttered, unwilling to get into it.
I told Val everything, but that visit didn’t deserve oxygen. Over the past week, I’d cataloged at least fifteen different ways to plan his untimely demise. Honestly, it was the only thing keeping me sane.
“Have you told them yet? That he fired you?”
My little sister and brother, Valeria and Victor, had inherited blue eyes from some long-gone grandparent, while Valentin and I got dark eyes and hair. The family joke was always that they were the milkman’s kids. Val stared at me with those big blue eyes, waiting.
“No. I haven’t told them. So keep it to yourself. I don’t want to worry them until I have to.”
Dad’s shoulders were shot from decades in a factory, and mom had worn out her back after a lifetime of hard labor. My paycheck was their paycheck, too. My siblings helped when they could, but they had their own little mouths to feed. I’d carry the weight until I couldn’t anymore.
“Okay. You’re all done.”
She nodded toward the mirror. I looked. The makeup was understated. Classic. Perfect.
“How do you know how I want to look without asking?”
She shrugged. “I kept it simple. Just layered extra concealer under those luggage bags you call eyes.”
I pinched her side, and she swatted me away. I kissed her forehead before I left. “Thanks.” I paused at the door. “Oh, and Emiliano cheats on Isadora with her stepsister.”
Her jaw dropped. Her fists balled.
“Ta-ta.” I wiggled my fingers at her and headed out, feeling smug.
I was still grinning about her face when I ran into my parents in the living room, camera in hand.
“Ay, mija, you look beautiful. Let me take a picture.”
Dad fumbled with the camera while I stood there awkwardly. Thank God for pockets. “It’s not prom,Papi. You don’t have to take pictures.”
“Ay, shut up,mija. Let me get my picture.” He snapped a few, then kissed my forehead. “I’m proud of you,” he whispered.
Morgan had invited them tonight, but events like this made them sad. They had loved Catherine and Christopheralmost as much as I did.
“You’re proud of me for showering and putting on deodorant?”
“No seas mensa.” He smacked the back of my head lightly, telling me not to be a dummy. “But yes. I’m glad I can finally stand near you again.” He waved his hand in front of his nose dramatically, and I laughed.
Mom stepped in and kissed my cheek. “You look beautiful,sí? Maybe you’ll even meet someone?” She eyed my suit with disdain. “Couldn’t wear a dress?”
“No, mom.”
Her eyes dropped to my Converse—the final offense. She rushed off and came back with a pair of heels. “Here,mija. Just in case.”
I took them, planning to ditch them in the car. Mom still looked at me like my suit had personally offended her.
“I’ll be back early,” I promised.
I kissed them both again and headed outside. The foundation car was waiting—and so was Lucifer himself.
