Page 13 of Punished

“Hey! Oh my god. I’m so glad you’re here. Can you watch the kids for a few hours when Thalia leaves? Beatriz is sick.” Beatriz was Doña Clara’s daughter, who usually watches the kids. They are good kids, so I am content with helping out.

“Yes! I got you!” I yell down the hallway and watch her get in the elevator.

Thalia is cleaning the kitchen when I let myself in.

“You should have been here yesterday. Adrian came over for breakfast,” she singsongs Adrian’s name, like a childlike taunt.

“You guys are having morning brunches now?” I say, half annoyed about my lack of sleep and half jealous I wasn’t invited.

“¡No seas celosa! I got chisme for you!”

I stare at her. I am not jealous. The less time I spend around Adrian, the better. I have enough problems withmy self-diagnosed sexsomnia. I am curious what juicy details she had about him, though.

“What’s the tea?”

Her eyes light up with her signature sly smile. I usually do my best to avoid any forms of gossip, due to my mother traumatizing me with hers. However, if Thalia has information on Adrian, it could be beneficial to my overstimulated ovaries. If I’m lucky, it will be something revolting to me, like the many men I found on the Chispa dating app. My shallow mindset would attach itself to that one revolting thing, and in return, my libido would go back to its resting state.

“I guess Osiel, of all people, helped him make an Instagram profile. He put his username as BigDickAdrian.” My cheeks flush. Adrian’s dick was absolutely the last thing I needed to be thinking about. Let alone its size.

“He had no idea, and neta, he begged me to help him change it. So, being the amazing big sister that I am, I helped him.” She waves her hand. Thalia often went off subject or exaggerated stories. I was afraid another hour would pass by before she got to the main point.

“Anyways, that’s not the point. Dude, you’ll never guess the first name that came up in his search history.” She pauses for dramatic effect.

“It was you!” she screams like an over-peppedcheerleader.

“Really? So, he obviously remembers me. You should have asked him why he was pretending not to know me. And then ask him why he just glares at me every day. I can’t tell if he wants to kill me or fuck me.”

“Oooh!” she exclaims. “Maybe he wants to do both.” Then she laughs when she sees the horror on my face. I wouldn’t be surprised if Thalia spent her free time reading erotic horror or visiting fetish clubs. There’s no way in hell I’m going to tell her about my sexsomnia problem now. It’s bad enough Alma had to witness it.

“Maybe this is how we become sisters for real.”

Heat rushes up my face at the thought, and I’m thankful when Lucia barges in and asks if she can do my makeup. Unable to say no to her cute little face, I say yes and figure I’ll wash it off before my shift starts. Thalia leaves to her office and I make the kids lunch. Luca is extra cuddly today and I fall asleep on the couch with him.

When my phone alarm goes off, I still feel tired, but I hear Olivia in the shower and the twins are still napping, so I slip out and make my way down the elevator. The lady next to me in the elevator doesn’t stop staring at me, and it’s making me nervous, so I rush out into the lobby. I need to get my uniform from Alma’s car before she leaves for the day. I’m halfway through the main lobby when Isee Adrian on a ladder, hanging a banner. He is looking at me again, but more puzzled than his regular glare. Having enough of this walking on eggshells bullshit, I decide today, of all days, to be brave.

“What the hell are you staring at, Adrian?”

A smirk draws on his face and he gives me no response as he climbs down the ladder. He’s wearing a white wifebeater, his muscular frame on full display. There is little left to my imagination as I stare at the outline of his abs through the thin material. The view will likely result in more wet dreams. I’m frustrated and still a little grumpy from my nap. When he reaches the bottom of the ladder, he still has that puzzled look on his face. Anger builds in me.

“I don’t know what your problem is, Adrian, or what games you’re playing with me. If you want to act like you don’t remember me, fine! But if you have something you need to get off your chest, then just say it instead of giving me dirty looks every day!”

He moves into me, and my breathing picks up as he shortens the distance between us. I can already feel the heat between us. My heart pounds as he pushes my hair behind my ear. The touch a jolt of electricity to my core. He lowers his lips to my ear, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m staring because you look like a fucking clown.”

I pull back. Confused and angry.A clown?He grabsthe ladder to leave and just as I go to tell him to fuck off, I catch my reflection in the lobby mirror. My hands shoot up in embarrassment as I remember letting Lucia do my makeup. I run to the parking lot and jump in the passenger seat and pull the visor down to get a closer look at the dramatic workings of a six-year-old upon my face. I groan as I see the bright pink and purple eyeshadow, bright orange blush, and the clown-red lipstick that completes the look. It doesn’t help matters that when I fell asleep, I smeared most of the lipstick up my cheek. I wonder how much it would cost to change my identity and move to another country.

Freshman Year of High School

I was getting tired of making up excuses for my mother. By age ten, I was making calls to her employer so she wouldn’t lose her job. Most times, out of pity for me, they would give her another chance. And another, until she ran out of chances. I was also good at pacifying teachers when she couldn’t make it to the various meetings they requested her to be at. Those meetings about my violent outbursts on the playground. Socializing was never a skill of mine, however, it had always been a primal need to earn respect.

Back then, the excuses worked. Her binges wouldn’t last longer than a few days to a week, but now it’s been a month, and if I don’t get money fast, then we will be evicted. I’ve spent the last threesummers working for Romero’s Lawn Services. It helps, but the pay barely cuts it when we are behind on all our bills. When the oldest Romero brother offers me a little extra pay to run drugs for him, I don’t even have to think twice.

I am supposed to meet Mireya at our local meet up spot tonight. It’s an old abandoned clubhouse one of the earlier tenants built for his kids before the neighborhood went to shit. The new owner of the house has no kids and works all night, so the clubhouse was ours. I’d been avoiding her more in the few months since I started working with the Romeros. Recently, I’ve started skipping school so I could make more money. She’s noticed, but never says much. I stopped calling her as much as I used to. Even looking at her makes me feel guilty for what I’m doing. The part of me that wants to be a better person for her. It’s as if she expects the world from me. My safe place. However, the more I struggle to survive, the more I see how ruthless I can be.

The pent-up rage from my mom’s addiction often makes me question my own worth. It isn’t like I woke up one day and said, “I think I want to be a drug dealer when I grow up.” No, I am a lost cause. Where Mireya glamourizes me, people like the Romero brothers see the struggle. They knew it would lead to ambition they could use and we would all benefit.

In all my attemptsto try to save my mother, I fell into a dark hole, addicted to the violence and power offered to me on the streets. It was the only place I felt I had control of my life. I convinced myself that as soon as I could move up my street game, I would find a way to make sure she was taken care of. I would find a way to help her slaughter all her demons. And in my delusion, I was convinced I would have time to make it right with Mireya.

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