“Sé valiente, mi amor,” she whispered.Be brave, my love.“Sé fuerte.”Be strong.“Sé amable.”Be kind.“Y quédate.”And stay.“Be here for your mother. She needs you, Shay. More than you’ll ever know, she needs you. Don’t make this harder for her.”
“I don’t understand. Why is she like this? Why is she so weak for him? I hate him. I hate him so much, but I hate her more for loving him. I hate them both for taking you away from me.”
“No, no, no,” she scolded, placing her hands on my shoulders. “Don’t ever speak so ill of your mother. She has been through more wars than you’ll ever know. You have no clue the things she’s done to protect you, to be there for you.”
“The best thing she could do for me is to leave my father.”
“Oh, honey...” Her voice dropped and she shook her head.“I’m sorry this is so hard on you. It’s hard on me, too. It’s sitting heavy on my heart.”
It was becoming hard to breathe, and my heart was twisting into a knot more and more as reality set in. She was going to go. She was going to leave me. I pulled her in for another hug. “Mima...” I sobbed against her blouse. She didn’t cry, though. Mima never fell apart; she simply held others together. “Please let me go with you, Mima. Please. I can’t do this without you.”
“You’re not without me, Shay. I won’t be far, but your mother? She can’t do this without you being here. That’s the truest truth. Be easy on her heart. Be easy on her soul—it’s broken and raw. You’re the only daylight she has right now. So please... stay.”
I cried into her arms for a while before she asked me to load up the car. Before she drove away, she pulled me into a hug once more and kissed my forehead.
Who knew forehead kisses could both heal and hurt?
I stayed on the sidewalk until her car rounded the corner.
Dad wasn’t even home. He was probably off in some bar, drinking, or out dealing with people he shouldn’t have been messing around with, with no concern about what his actions were doing to our family. Each negative choice he made ripped the strands of our family unit, and yet he kept doing it—not thinking about us, not thinking of anything but himself.
I barged back toward the house, heartbroken and furious. I had to get through to my mother. I needed her to wake up from this nightmare love story she’d been living in for far too long. As I entered the house, ready to snap at her, I paused my steps as I headed in her direction. She was in the bathroom with the door shut, and I listened as she sobbed uncontrollably. Her breaths were weighted and tired. When I turned the doorknoband opened the door, I found her sitting on the side of the tub with her hands covering her face.
I was still angry, hurt, confused. I still planned to let her know how I felt. I still planned on voicing my thoughts and making it clear that her choices were affecting everything and everyone around us, not just herself... but I couldn’t in that moment.
She was already low, and I couldn’t push her any lower.
Sé valiente, sé fuerte, sé amable, y quédate.
I moved into the bathroom. I sat down on the edge of the bathtub with her. I wrapped my arms around her.
And I stayed.
18Shay
I couldn’t sleep that night. The alarm clock sat on my dresser, the red lights displaying the time, mocking me and my exhaustion. Dad hadn’t come home. Mom was still crying in her bedroom, and Mima wasn’t here. The house felt emptied of its light, and it made it impossible for me to sleep.
I glanced at the alarm clock once more.
12:09a.m.
Too late to call him, I told myself. Plus, why would I even try? If I woke him up, I’d feel bad for interrupting his sleep, seeing as how I knew he struggled to fall asleep on his own. But if he was up... if the night was keeping him awake, I wanted to hear his voice on the other end of the line.
I dialed Landon’s number. As it rang, my heart sat in my throat, and I tried my best to swallow it down.
“You OK?” were the first words to leave his mouth as he answered. His voice had its normal smokiness without any hint of just waking up.
My heart, which still sat in my throat, began racing even more. I placed my collar into my mouth and chewed on it lightly. “Why would those be your first words?”
“Because it’s past midnight, and most calls past midnight are with upsetting news or booty calls. If this is a booty call, then by all means...”
I could imagine the smirk on his face. “It’s not a booty call.”
“Damn. So back to my original question... you OK?”
“Define ‘OK.’” I laughed, grinding my teeth against the fabric. “My grandmother moved out today. Or, well, my mother pretty much kicked her out after one too many arguments about my father.”
“What?” His voice was alert. “Where is she? Is she OK? Where will she stay?”