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“Is that a way to pick up the phone?”
It’s mi abuela, no doubt she’s calling to have a go at me too.
“No, Abuela. Lo siento.”
I can hear her taking in a deep breath.
“Diego, I need to go to Madrid, but I’m not happy about leaving you here with the way things are going, and George says that you’re drinking again.”
George needs to mind his own fucking business. I’m not drinking again, I’ve never had a problem. My only issue is him.
“You’re drinking now. Open the door.”
Then I hear a tap on the glass door and lo and behold, Abuela is outside. She was watching me from the time she made the phone call to right now.
“How long have you been standing there?” I ask as I open the sliding door. She has the code to the house, she can come and go as she pleases, but usually she lets me know when she’s coming. But clearly today isn’t one of those days.
She’s wearing gray joggers and a matching sweater. I smile as I observe her hair all up in a bun as if she’s going for a walk or jog.
“I was out for a walk, and I thought I would pop by. You don’t mind.”
I chuckle, because as much as I know she does go for walks, it’s not at this time of day. I can’t imagine her taking a ten-mile walk from her house to mine at ten at night.
“Mi nieto1, don’t go back to the way you were. You’ve come past it.”
I didn’t exactly enroll in AA, nor go to rehab, but when you need a drink to get you going in the morning, thriving through the afternoon and sleeping at night, I had it. Looking back then, I realize that loneliness had a big part to play. Belén and I started to go on more dates and spend more time together, seeing as we were going to be married in a year, and it took away the feeling of being all alone in the world.
“Leticia is there for you.”
“No. She’s not. She came up with some story about her abuela being sick and she needs to be there longer. She’s not a doctor. Maybe she’s fed up with me.”
She wraps her arms around me.
“My sweet boy. I know why you’re acting like this, it’s George. Whenever he’s in the picture he makes you feel like this. The scared little boy that no one can love. She loves you, but her abuela is sick, this is why I’m going too, but I worry to leave you.”
She breaks away the hug, and then her eyes land on the glass that I am holding in my hand, and I place it on the bar.
“How many have you had today?”
I lost count, as I try and figure it out.
“That many. Okay, Diego, you need to do better. No one wants to marry a drunk.”
I move away from her and close the door. It’s not chilly, but there’s no point having home security if you go around leaving the doors open.
“Gracias!”
“I’m serious. If not for Leticia, then do it for yourself. You’re better than them. Better than all of them. It’s a shame that Lucas is so busy lately that he can’t move in for a while.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
She raises an eyebrow, not convinced with the way I said it.
“What about this? What about if I’m not at the office, then I help out at his rehab center. He’s spending a lot of time there and there are people in need. It will take my mind off things!”
Things meaning Leticia. I can’t believe that I’ve been so selfish, I thought she made up a story about her abuela. Then again, why the heck would she do a thing like that? My chest aches at the idea of me not being there for her.
“You’ll do that?”
