As much as I hate it, maybe some promises can’t be kept…
22
Angel
“I trust your family situation has improved?” Winnie sits on the chaise across from me, a book in her hand, watching me closely.
“Mm…” My brush pauses as I think about her question.
I rushed back to make an appearance at her house today. After Friday, I didn’t want her to think I’m lazy or my family life is too sordid for me to continue. Despite what Deacon says, I’m not giving her any reason to doubt or stereotype me.
“The situation has changed.”
“And your brother?”
I haven’t called Valeria, but Lourdes said Beto would be going home tomorrow. I haven’t heard anything about Mateo, which worries me.
“He’s better, thank you.”
She situates herself on the couch with a grunting noise, and I return to the deep brown and green of the bookcase behind her. I added highlights to her dress, I finished the cat. Now I’m looking at her profile on canvas thinking this woman is my family. Mi familia.
My eyes narrow as I consider this new reality.
Before coming here, I stopped at New Hope to transfer my one suitcase to Lourdes’s car. We talked on the drive back, and she agreed to let me sleep on her couch for now. She told me everyone has been talking about what happened with Beto, and they’ve all been speculating over where I was this weekend.
“What the fuuuu….” She almost had a cow when she saw the ring on my finger.
It’s beautiful, a peach-oval diamond in a rose gold setting with diamond-baguette daisies on both sides of the band. Smiling, my hand goes to my chest, and I feel it where it hangs on a chain inside my shirt. I was not expecting a ring or a wedding, of promises. I’m engaged… We exchanged vows.
The entire weekend was magical and beautiful.
But as frustrated as I was with him wanting to go back in the closet, I realize looking at the woman sitting across from me, he’s right. All the pent-up emotions, the binary thinking—if we moved in together, it would only fuel their hatred.
The base of the bookcase is complete, and I step back. “I’ll stop here and let this dry. Tomorrow I can add the spines. If there are any favorite books you’d like me to add, let me know.”
Winnie sets her book aside and walks over to inspect my work. I collect my brushes and wipe them down before dipping them in fast-drying saffron oil for the night. I’ll give them a more thorough cleaning when I’m finished.
“I like what you’ve done with this.” She circles her finger around the shading on her dress.
“Thank you.” I set the brushes aside and pick up my purse, ready to go.
“You’re different today.” She crosses her arms, studying me.
“Am I?” She has no idea.
Her arms drop, and she lets out an irritated huff before going to the door. “I’m glad your family is well. I wouldn’t want you to be unable to finish.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll finish.”
I’m right behind her at the door, but as soon as I step into the hall, the scent of onion from the kitchen hits my nose, and my throat closes. Oh, God, no. Saliva pools in my mouth, and I bite my upper lip until my eyes water. My hand covers my lips, and I pray I make it outside before she stops or decides she needs to tell me one last thing.
Bolting through the door leading from the hallway, I push through the servant’s entrance and make it behind the shrub just before I puke the finger sandwich I ate at New Hope before coming here.
“Oh, God.” I cough, my eyes flooding with tears.
I don’t have cool water or even a cloth to clean my face. Sniffing, I lightly tap the tears from under my eyes and hurry down the driveway towards my waiting car. Lourdes agreed to help me return it to Beto’s tonight, but first I have to take care of something on my own.
I’m in the Waffle House bathroom, sitting on the closed toilet, staring at a pink plus sign and realizing my life has completely changed.