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Abuela doesn’t look at Mamá. It’s as if she dismisses her presence, which is weird, and then as she does, she has a frown on her face.
“Si. I wanted to go into the bar to have a quiet drink, but someone is having a party. I just want to go home. It’s late now. But there are too many cars. I can’t cross.”
I look from left to right, to see no cars on the road, but as I take her hand, it is shaking. I feel bad for leaving her out of my sight.
“Si. I’ll take you home.”
She moves closer towards me. Then her brows cross and she’s shaking even more, as if she’s more nervous.
“Thank you.”
Again, she turns to face Mamá.
“I don’t like the look of your friend. She looks sad. Let’s go home,” she whispers in my ear.
I realize that Abuela recognizes me, but not Mamá. She’s forgotten all about the Santo and that the party is for her. I take her arm and cross the road with her. She had a good day, but it’s the last few minutes she seems to have returned to her lost self. I thought it was too good for it all to be perfect, but for her I know that it was nearly perfect enough.
1 very important because it signifies the birthday of the saint, which is celebrated with a party or a family gathering.
2 Bye.
3 Congratulations
4 Croquettes, ham, cheese and Spanish rice dish.
40
Diego
Ihad another rough day, too rough in fact that even after George and Jorge left all I did was have a couple of shots nearly every meeting. I had to excuse myself from one, because I wanted to throw up.
Me?
I felt as if the alcoholic he accused me of being started to come to the surface, because he mentioned about me drinking, not even asking if I’d had a drink.
Fuck him!
Fuck both of them.
The verbal abuse from Papá escalated into physical abuse. Then, the abandonment and everything about my life that I had locked in a cage and promised never to open resurfaced because of him as he defended Jorge. I want to feel numb, not relive the darkness.
I can imagine George laughing and getting his lawyer Ethan to spy on me to gain evidence of me being incompetent to run the company.
What about his precious son?
Jorge running off for six maybe nearly seven years now doesn’t constitute as enough evidence to show that he’s not capable of running anything. Either way, Ryan says that there’s enough evidence to show that Jorge was a shit CEO, so we don’t have to worry about a thing.
Whenever someone says not to worry I tend to do it more. He seems to think Belén will be more of an issue than Jorge. As if.
I highly doubt it, but with my stomach hurting from nearly drinking all day and not eating, the best thing for me to do is to go home, eat something, and have a nap.
I just didn’t expect the nap to last four hours. I need to have a quick shower and then figure out my week. I can’t keep doing this every time I face them. Today is the start of a new week and no doubt they’re not going to run away after one meeting.
I’ve been the CEO for over six years. The youngest ever, because I was fresh out of university and I was determined to do a good job. I wanted to prove George wrong. I hardly ate, slept, or did anything which didn’t involve work. They should be on their fucking knees thanking me for putting my blood and sweat into the company, instead all they think about is taking it away from me.
Leticia’s still not back and not likely to come back anytime soon. My phone rings and usually I look at the caller ID, but I’m thinking it must be Leticia wanting to apologize for the way she spoke to me the other day.
“Yes,” I snap as I head to my bar in the living room.
