Page 105 of Keepsake

“The kids—” Mamá started, but to our surprise, Logan cut her off.

“The kids know better than anyone what happened in the house, and they will be heard.”

My parents’ mouths closed in a snap, and I took it as an incentive.

“Things in the house weren’t good. I haven’t asked for details, but David was abusive.” I heard a gasp, but I refused to look at my mother. “The only reason I am mentioning this is because the kids are healing. They are in therapy.”

“Doctor Maya is great,” Logan cut in. “Lachlan has made tremendous progress with her and now Vienna…”

“Is he talking?” Mamá asked, her eyes glued to Logan.

The woman by my side let go of an anxious breath as she simply nodded. Mamá looked at Papá like she needed his confirmation.

“It’s true,” Papá confirmed. “He called her Lo.”

Logan smiled sadly. “He doesn’t say much yet. I’m happy for him to take as long as he needs. But it isn’t just Lachlan. They all have been through a lot.”

“The reason I am bringing this up.” I took a breath again. “We have to address Sofia’s death.”

“No.”

It came quickly from Mamá’s mouth. Like a whip, the word cracked in the still air.

“What do you mean, no?”

“I don’t want to talk about Sofia anymore.”

“We never started.” I couldn’t help but shake my head, confused.

“It is a sore spot for all of us.” My Papá tried to reason with me.

“Of course it fucking is.”

“Alvaro.” Mamá was annoyed at my language, even as I stood there, grey hairs and all.

I stood to my full height. “Sofia killed herself.” As the words came out of my mouth, everyone in the kitchen winced. “She was thirty. You understand how fucking tragic that is?”

“Basta.” Mamá stood up, too.

“Not enough.” I switched to Spanish as well. “The way we dealt with it makes no sense based on what happened. It doesn’t fit. A tragic death happened in our family.”

“And you want to keep talking about it?” she accused.

I couldn’t believe I was the one telling them we had to talk about things. “We have three traumatized kids—”

“They are not traumatized!” She wouldn’t budge, and now my dad stood up too, trying to calm my mother down.

“They are scared of their biological father. They are missing their dead mother!” I roared.

“Stop talking!” she shrieked.

“Basta!”

The power died in my lungs. My mother’s eyes widened, and we three stared at Logan, who just stood up and was speaking in perfect Spanish. “What Alvaro is trying to say is that in order to help the children, we need to heal ourselves, too.”

No one talked. We all just gaped at her. Her timbre changed in Spanish. I liked it a lot. Logan sat down after that, smoothing her clothes over her legs. She cleared her throat. “I’m raising Latino kids and I grew up with Sofia. Yeah, I speak Spanish.”

Papá smiled at her and sat down. I remained standing watching my mother, waiting for her to turn this into a problem as well, until I felt soft fingers closing over my wrists.

---