Page 32 of The Last Sunrise

“It’s okay, thank you so much.” I smile warmly, hoping my mom hasn’t been too demanding of her this early in the day.

My mom pats the corners of her mouth with a thick white napkin. “So, who’s this friend you’ve already made? You seem to be making more friends here than back at home.”

Lena looks at me, her body shifting from one hip to another in her seat.

I explain, “Just someone I met through Amara.”

“The hotel clerk,” she retorts as if she’s reminding Lena who we’re talking about, but erasing her name.

Sighing, I take a drink of water from the glass in front of me.

“Amara is her name, and technically yes, that’s her job, but not everyone is defined by their job.” My tone is clipped and defensive, but the way she seems to be looking down on Amara strikes a nerve. A big one.

“I’m choosing to ignore that dig. Are you tired?” She leans over the table a little to get a closer look at me.

“No. I’m fine.”

“You seem… I don’t know, different? Off? Did you sleep well?” She sips her coffee, watching me.

I roll my eyes, leaning my back against the chair. Feeling immature and a bit bratty and not caring to hide it, I glare back at her.

“I’m fine. I’m having a great day. Well, I was until now.”

My thoughts travel back to Julián, how he waited for hours in the lobby. I can still smell the fresh bread he brought, still feel his fingers trickling along my skin.

“Is it a man or a woman that you met here?” My mom’s thick brows rise in question.

“Why are you asking?”

“Why wouldn’t I ask? It must be a man.” She smiles, placing her lipstick-stained coffee mug down on the table in front of her.

“It’s a man, yes. But I barely know him, so I haven’t had the time to do a background check.”

Lena pops up.

“Should I?” she offers, unfortunately not catching on to my sarcasm.

I wave my hand in front of me.

“No, no way. I’m not a teenager anymore, and he’s just a guy. Let’s stop talking about it now. Please.”

“Be careful in every way, okay?” My mother’s eyes soften and there’s a hint of something else there, but it disappears before I can take it in.

I agree and work on distracting her by asking about her day, the colors of the balloons, and if yellow lights will workbetter than the white for the ballroom. I wish it wasn’t this way between us, but the most we’ve ever bonded was when I feigned interest in her work. There’ve been times when stuck in a hospital room for five-day-long EEGs that we’ve shared a laugh or two, but ever since I can remember, even during those stays she still took calls nonstop, stepping out of the room constantly to manage some crisis for SetCorp. I spent a lot of the time with the nurses and Child Life specialists who brought me puzzles and played card games with me until I got an iPad, then a cell phone, and eventually pushed my mom to just drop me off for my hospital stays because I enjoyed the quiet of the hospital over her nonstop working.

I try not to resent her. I really do. I know she dedicates her life to her career and that can be admirable, but for me and my heart, I would give anything for her to put me, not just my medical stuff, butme, a person, first. Even if only for a short time.

As she drones on about how many tourists and how much money the resort will bring in, I clock out mentally. I nod along as she talks, and Lena takes notes on her iPad. Their empty plates are carried away and my mom orders a second round of espressos for her and Lena.

“I’d love one, too, please,” I request.

“Ry, with your medication—” my mom begins.

“I can have espresso. I drink coffee. I’m fine and want an espresso.”

Lena’s face reddens, caught between the two of us Peras. Not a great place to be.

“Point taken. Ah, hang on. Sorry.” Mom picks up her vibrating cell phone and brings it to her ear.

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