Page 48 of The Last Sunrise

She turns her body to face me, taking my hands in hers. Her touch is unfamiliar, so much so that it nearly breaks me. “It’s the greatest joy in my life to be your mother. I know I didn’t do everything right, but to me, taking care of you is the way I choose to live my life, and I have never, and will never, regret that. You must understand that we are different people, Ry. I work so hard and so much to distract me fromthe pain and guilt of knowing how I’ve treated the people who have loved me. I work so I can feel like I owe SetCorp a little less for all they’ve done for us. I work so I can have a little pride, knowing I came from nothing and have been able to provide you with the life you’ve had. I’m sorry I’m not as emotionally available…”

She’s nearly crying, a sight I never thought I’d see outside a hospital. “But I can try from here, taking it slowly. I’ll try to open up with you a little more, okay?”

“Okay.” I nod, not getting all the answers I want, but satisfied by what feels like a massive breakthrough compared to any and every conversation we’ve ever had.

“And I do see you. I see you every day, and I love you more than anything. I can see how you would feel the way you do, and I’ll try harder to show you.”

She swallows hard and shifts her body again. Her exit is coming any second, and I’m okay with that. A tiny part of my unseen inner child was healed by her acknowledgment, and the fact that she didn’t cut me off as I shared my feelings with her.

“I need to go get my dress pinned, but to answer a few of your questions”—she begins to stand up, and I follow her toward my door—“I can’t dance to save my life, and my favorite snack as a child was rubiols that my mother made around Easter.” Her hand is shaking as she opens the door, turns to face me, and sighs.

“And I’ve been in love only once, but you already seem to have figured that out.”

“Do you ever do your makeup at home?” I ask Amara as I approach her at the desk.

“Not when I can do it on the clock and get paid.” She winks, blowing a kiss to her favorite camera in the corner.

“I’m going back home early,” I tell her as she drags a mascara wand across her lashes. Her hand jerks and black smears across the apple of her cheek.

“Excuse me, what?”

“Sorry for the shitty timing.” I point to the mascara on her face, and she looks in the mirrored wall behind the desk, shrugging.

“How early are you talking?” She puts the tube of mascara on the counter.

I hesitate before replying, sealing my fate. “Tomorrow. Before the event.”

Surprise flashes in her eyes.

“What? What happened? Did Julián… what did he do?” Her reaction is so quick, her temper flaring, ready to go full force on Julián.

“He didn’t do anything. It was me. Well, my mom, which by proxy makes me guilty too.”

She’s confused, rightfully so. I give her more context, starting and ending with what happened yesterday.

“Oh no. So, the evil company we’re all going to be protesting tomorrow is your mom’s?” She cringes.

“Protesting?”

Nodding, she explains that their group of friends, along with a ton of fishermen and their families, have a protest set for tomorrow at the Garcia shipyard. The time is just a few hours before the event.

“I guess the protest is going to bring awareness, and if it gets too out of hand or word travels too fast, it could ruin the fancy party.” She apologizes with her eyes.

“I don’t give a shit about the party. I can’t believe my mom is the one causing all this damage and I’ve been parading around here, wasting Julián’s and your time. I’m sorry.”

She waves her hand. “Don’t be. If you didn’t know, why the hell are you sorry?”

I shrug. “Even knowing that, I still feel so shitty. The least I can do is say sorry.”

“No, the least you can do is stay here and try to make it right,” she suggests.

“How can I make it right?”

I’ve gone through every scenario in my mind, trying to think of ways to stop it, even wishing my mom was allergic to something that I could give her to make her sick enough to go home. Her immune system is stronger than her work ethic, and that’s saying a fucking lot. Even after our heart-to-heart, there’s no way in hell she would cancel it.

“I’m not sure, but there has to be a way. Just packing up and leaving is never the answer. Imagine if Romeo and Juliet just gave up!” she says with passion.

I can’t help but laugh at her comparison. “They wouldn’t have died.”

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