Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
But when we get outside, our car and driver are already waiting for us. At a quick look around, I only see Val. He nods to say he’s seen me, but when my dad ushers me into the backseat of our sedan, Val simply climbs into his vehicle. It’s an SUV, but a different one than the one we came in. He merges into the line of cars that will head to the cemetery.
Did I miss Santos? I turn to look out of the back window but only see Val in the driver’s seat. The passenger side is empty, and Santos wouldn’t sit in the back if it was just the two of them.
“Can I have your phone?” I ask Odin. I need to push Santos to get my phone back.
Odin hands it to me and I type in Santos’s number to send him a text.
Me: Where are you?
My message sends and delivers but the checkmarks remain gray.
I send another one.
Me: Santos where are you?
Again delivery, but that’s it.
Dad takes the phone from me before I can stop him. He’s sitting between us in the backseat. “It’s not the time for texting.” He tucks the phone into his pocket. “Glad it’s not raining. She hated the rain,” he says, and I wonder if he misses her. If he thinks about her. If he loved her. But then I smell whiskey on his breath—or maybe it’s just coming out of his pores because he drinks so much—and I think I’m probably giving him too much credit.
“Why are the Averys here?” I ask.
“Everyone who wants to remember your mother is welcome.”
“They didn’t know Mom.”
He gives me a nasty look and shifts his gaze out the front window as the car slows once we pass through the cemetery gates. Once we arrive at the grave site, Val comes to stand at my side, ignoring my father entirely as he tries to step between us.
“Santos will meet you at the house,” Val says.
“Where is he?”
“Something came up.”
“For God’s sake, this is your mother we’re talking about,” Dad finally says, taking my arm forcefully and leading me to the grave, gripping the flowers the driver handed him in his other hand. He’s holding them so tightly the stems are smashed.
I don’t like coming here with him, but I know the drill. I just have to get through this.
We will leave the flowers, have a few moments of silence, then go back to the house, where he’ll pour himself a whiskey. I hate that part most because it requires socializing. I was hoping to get out of it or at least have Santos at my side. I’m disappointed he’s not here, but Odin needs me, and I won’t let him down.
In less than half an hour, we’re pulling up to the house. I haven’t been here in a long time, but it looks the same as it used to. The grounds are pristinely maintained, the house grand and looming. It smells the same, too, I think when we enter. Even with all these people already here, the subtle scent of wood polish mixed with whiskey sends me back in time.
People come to greet us, reminding me that we don’t have relatives left apart from us. Odin is the last De Léon. What will happen to our name? Will the line end with him? Maybe it should.
A few minutes after we’re in the house, the front door opens. Val slips inside and, after locating me, he stands against the wall. My father notices too, and I don’t miss his nod to a man I don’t recognize. I guess he hired security. I don’t know. But Val can manage himself.
Robotically, I assume my role as the porcelain doll with the glass eyes. I stand between Odin and my father and, with my arms at my sides, I accept people’s hugs, ignoring their pitying eyes, their empty words. I try to remember if my mom had friends, but I was too young to know that. She and I were together a lot, and we were mostly on our own. Odin and Uncle Jax were the only two people I remember being around.
Uncle Jax.
Another wave of sadness steals over me, and I wish again that Santos was here. He’d know how I was feeling. He’d be the rock at my side. But irritation creeps along that thought as I wonder what could have been so important that he abandoned me like he has once before.
“Excuse me,” I say. My father halts his conversation momentarily, but I slip out of reach before he can stop me walking away. Odin, too, watches as I hurry through the crowd in the living room toward the stairs. I just need a few minutes alone, so I head to my room.
Voices carry, following me up. The lights are out up here though—my father’s subtle sign for guests to keep to the ground floor. I’m grateful for it.