I exhale a disgusted laugh. “Thomas is too proud to cut me off. It would make him look bad at the club. Unruly boys are to be tolerated, bragged about even.”
Her eyes close, and her head leans back as she exhales a weak chuckle. “Men are the same everywhere. Machismo.”
Pissing wars. I rise to standing in one fluid movement. “I’ll never forgive him for doing this to you.”
I blame him for her illness. I blame him for her deteriorating health. I blame him for her inability to find work after he ruined her reputation. No one would hire her after he branded her a thief in his home. All the Upper East Siders shut their doors in her face, and she was left to scrounge a living wherever she could.
I’ve brought her money from my allowance for five years, and I’d love him to come at me for it. Pompous bastard. So worried about his appearance. So offended by a missing watch.
“He did what he had to do.” Ximena still defends my father’s actions. “My son stole from him. Your father could not keep me in the house after he stole.”
“Ramon stole to buy you medicine. He didn’t steal to party or do drugs.”
He might’ve gotten away with it, too. If only he hadn’t stolen my father’s favorite Rolex—not one of the other seven he never wears.
“He did not put my son in jail.” She nods her head, as if my father, Thomas Hastings has the ability to throw anyone in jail.
He’s just a grown-up trust-fund brat who knows how to invest the massive wealth he inherited from our bootlegger ancestors. At least he’s good for something.
Pride beams in her eyes when she looks up at me. “Now you will go and be a hero. So handsome, serving your country.”
I smooth my hand down the front of my jacket, contemplating hypocrisy. “It’s what my mother always wanted. Her father was in the military.”
“Yes, and she can see you from above. She is so proud of you. Just like I am proud.”
I study the woman who filled my mother’s role for a little while. I can’t heal her. I can’t change her situation, and I want to leave her with happiness, not bitterness.
“Thank you, mamá. I love you.”
“I love you, Esteban.” She takes a slow inhale and forces a chuckle. “Now why are you here with an old woman? Why are you not out celebrating with friends? You have too much spirit. You should be with a girl tonight, release some energy.”
Energy. She’s encouraging me to go out and get laid. “I’m not looking for a girl.”
“A boy then!” My eyes snap to hers, and I see a joking sparkle.
After all the medicine, the chemotherapy, the drugs, she refuses to be beaten. She still manages to tease me. She’s the only person who can get away with it.
“I’m not gay. I’m leaving in the morning.”
“Which means you have all night.” She carefully rises out of her chair and takes my arm, pulling me to the door. “No more hanging around here. Go out and live your life.”
I wrap my arms around her in a long hug. The feel of her bones beneath thin cotton is physically painful to me. “I’ll find someone to check on you while I’m gone.”
“I have my friends. I have my neighbors. Stop worrying about me.” She shoos me away. “When it’s my time, I’ll be ready.” Touching my cheek, she says her final words to me. “Be brave, Esteban. Laugh often. Take care of yourself.”
“Take care of you.” I kiss the top of her head and hesitate one last time before I go.
It’s the last time I’ll ever see her…
Emmy
“Harley Quinn is way sexier than Black Widow any day of the week.” Burt Dickerson’s voice is too loud.
He’s on one of his DC versus Marvel fan-boy rants, and I’m staring into the bottom of my empty red solo cup. I need refill number four.
“Fuck that. Black Widow. Hands down.” My older brother Ethan yells at him, but he’s only yanking Burt’s chain. Ethan doesn’t give a shit about comic universes. “Give me a redhead any day. Fire crotch.”
My nose wrinkles, and I want to punch my brother in the junk. “She was a blonde in the last movie. You just like Scarlett Johansson.” Why am I still standing here listening to them?