Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
“What about you? Huh? You need to let me take care of you, too. You’re not made of steel, Alejandro. It’s okay to grieve.”
I glanced up at her, taking her in. “Thank you for looking so beautiful for me today.”
“Babe…” She came around and crouched down in front of me. Placing her hands on my knees for support, looking me straight in the eyes. “It’s okay to talk to me. I was there, too. I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but you can’t close off like this. You can’t shut down, Alejandro. It’s not healthy. I’m here. You can—”
I placed my thumb over her lips, silencing her. “No more talking, cariño. That’s not what I need right now.” Rubbing my thumb along her pouty lips, I wiped off her lipstick.
“Ale—” The doors opened from behind us, guests began to arrive for the mass that was taking place before the funeral. I welcomed the interruption, knowing where this conversation was going.
I stood, bringing Sophia up with me, wrapping my arm around her lower back. Nodding my head toward the associates that just walked in. We made our way toward Amari in the congregation room of the church. She was sitting on a chair with Michael crouched in front of her, peering down. Her skin much paler than it was this morning.
“Carajo, Amari. You need to eat,” I stated in a harsher tone than I intended. Grabbing her forearm, pulling her to stand in front of me. I lifted her chin with my finger so she would look at me. “Do you understand me? You need to eat.”
Tears streamed down her sunken face, murmuring, “I can’t do this, Alejandro. I can’t go in there and say goodbye. I’m not strong like you, I have never been. My heart is filled with so much pain. I can’t breathe. I feel like I can’t fucking breathe.”
Michael tried to pry her out of my arms, stepping in like he actually gave a fuck about her feelings. I glared at him with a warning. His jaw clenched, rubbing her back instead.
“I will be there with you, Amari. You can lean on me. I promise to hold you up. You need to promise me you will eat. Let me worry about everything else. Okay?”
“Is she really gone? This isn’t just a nightmare that we’re going to wake up from? This is really happening? She’s dead, and I didn’t even get to say goodbye? Please… tell me it’s just a cruel joke. I keep thinking that any second now she’s going to walk though those doors and tell us it was all a bad joke. That this isn’t real. Please… Alejandro… I beg you… tell me this isn’t real,” she bellowed, her lips trembling.
I held her face between my hands, and it was like looking into my mother’s eyes. “I wish I could wake up, too. I wish I could lie to you and tell you everything is going to be okay. But this is life, Amari. There are no guarantees, no promises of tomorrow. We have today. And today we have to say goodbye to our light. Our beloved mother.” I kissed her forehead, bringing her into my arms. She melted against me.
Sophia wrapped her arms around her waist in a comforting gesture, watching me while I was comforting my grieving sister.
Our father and the priest walked in to tell us it was time to go. Amari looked up from my chest and wiped her face, walking over to Michael. Dad went to reach for her, but she jerked back from his grasp with a look I couldn’t quite place. Catching all of us off guard by her drastic change in demeanor toward him. If looks could kill, this would be my father’s funeral, not my mother’s. He cleared his throat, slightly bowing his head, leading the way out the door.
Amari tucked her body into the nook of Michael’s arm and walked out. I grabbed Sophia’s hand and brought it up to my lips as we headed in the same direction. All of us walked in together through the side entrance of the cathedral. Following the priest toward the altar and taking a seat in the first row, closest to the casket.
I tried to pretend that it didn’t bother me, as if I wasn’t dying inside. I ignored the sermon that the priest recited, every verse read by family, every memory her friends shared.
Getting lost in the abyss that now resided in my soul.
My father stood, bringing my attention back to the present as he made his way up to the podium to say his eulogy. He peered out at the crowd of people with a devastated expression. Every row in the cathedral was packed with everyone who loved our mother.
Even that didn’t grant me peace.
He bowed his head for a few seconds, needing to gain his composure. “Adriana, my wife, was the love of my life. My past, my present, and she would have been my future,” he announced, looking back up.