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Leigh
“Morning, honey. I made some tea if you’d like some,” Veronica says as I walk into the kitchen. My eyes widen as I look around the room.
“This is a lot of stuff.” I take a seat at the counter across from her and grab the mug of tea.
She smiles mischievously. “You know how I feel about Halloween. Normally, I start decorating earlier, but I’ve been extra busy with my marketing clients this year. But today is all about decorations. What about you? What’s on your agenda?”
I give a little shrug. “Not much. I don’t have to work today. I’m happy to help, though my decorating abilities are a bit limited at the moment.”
She chuckles. “No ladders for you.” She inhales and her eyes set on me the same way Maia’s do. Like she magically becomes a mind reader. I shouldn’t be surprised. Veronica has let me stay here for the last two weeks and, other than asking why on the first night, she hasn’t tried to talk to me about what’s going on at all.
“You can ask,” I say quietly.
“Have you talked to Nick, Maia, anyone?”
I give a quick head shake. I’m not as angry anymore. Except maybe at myself. And Abuelita. But letting everyone back in, trusting anyone, is still hard.
“No. Nick calls me every day. I haven’t answered, though.”
“Why did you come here? I mean, I’ve known you a long time and I love you, but I’m a little surprised.”
“I thought maybe you’d… understand. You were estranged from your parents. I don’t know. Or maybe it’s that I’ve always felt like the anger in you understands the anger in me,” I say with a smile.
She laughs at that and nods. “I’m glad you’re here. Glad you did what you needed to do to take care of yourself, but—I think our similarities go deeper than that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I know you’re struggling right now. Struggling with the weight of what could have been. I’ve been there. Some days I still face it. Because you’re right. I am estranged from my parents and questioning if I’m doing the right thing keeping that distance there.”
I nod slowly, sinking against the counter. “Do you think you could stomach it, if one of them died with everything unsaid between you?”
Her eyes close for a moment. When she opens them, they’re glassy. “I’ve had to. My father died a couple of years ago. My mother called to tell me. It was the first I’d heard from her in years. She asked me to go to the funeral. I guess he died of cancer and wanted to make amends with me at the end, but never ended up calling me.”
“Wow, I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”
“I didn’t tell anyone but James and Leo initially. Eventually I told the kids, too.”
“Did you go to the funeral?”
“I went to the calling hours. I wasn’t going to stand in line and receive condolences for a man who hadn’t been my father in almost twenty-five years. My mother was pissed, reminded me I was the same childish girl who left them. But they never really gave me a choice.”
“Did you ever try to talk to them after you left?”
Her eyes grow sadder. “When Ella died. I was heartbroken. I wanted the kind of comfort your parents are supposed to give you. My mother started in about how selfish I was, and I hung up the phone before I ever spoke to my father. In the end, it was Nonna who provided me with that comfort.”
“Would you have gone?”
“What?”
“If your father had asked for you when he was sick… would you have gone?”
“Yes. I can’t explain why—”
“She wrote me a letter. I refused to read it. Refused for months. Then, right before she died, she sent another. I didn’t find it until after her funeral. She was in rehab. She wanted to come home. She left her number so I could call her. She just wanted to talk to me.” My voice wavers and my chest vibrates.
Veronica gets up and comes around the counter to me.
“I would’ve called her. I would’ve talked to her. If I’d just known. If Abuelita would’ve told me. If I would’ve just read the letter…”
