Page 50 of The Last Sunrise

“Do I have any family left here?” I eventually ask him.

I can read the sadness, near guilt, on his face as he shakes his head.

Chapter Eighteen

It’s a bright, cloudless day. The sky feels too big, too blue for my sunken-in state. My stomach twists with hunger, but just the idea of eating makes me exhausted. My eyes are swollen from crying with Mateo for hours. I got back to my room after midnight. Mateo walked me back to my hotel, generously telling me a little bit about the neighborhood he and my mom grew up in. He didn’t go into too much detail, but it was more than I’m owed, and it gave me a little bit of what I’ve been searching for. He told me she never wore shoes, that she was always trying to sell anything and everything, even paper airplanes a few times, and of course, she had a few loyal customers. He was somber as he described little bits of their past, but I appreciated every word. As I sip my water and take Tylenol for this massive headache, curiosity gets the best of me. I google the symptoms of medication withdrawals. All the years spent in hospitals, labs, offices have taught me to never, ever google anything to do with medical advice. You’ll be convinced your stomach bug is cancer or your allergies are a mysterious airborne illness.

I’ve never considered the withdrawals of my meds, because I’d never considered not taking them until the latest medical news, until boarding the jet to come here. I’ve been sodistracted by Julián that I didn’t feel anything wrong, and I’m still not convinced that any of this is from the withdrawal. My brain, aside from the random headaches, has never been clearer. Ironically, I miss the fog I’ve felt for years, as if my emotions had been subdued by the meds. Logically, I know it wasn’t the stopping of them that awakened me, it was him. And now he hates me, and even worse, I hate myself for not being able to stop all of this.

As the morning comes, I open my window one last time as I slowly begin to pack my bags in a way that won’t alert my mom if she were to come to my room. I dump every single pill from my container down the toilet and flush, watching as they disappear. Feeling lighter, feeling agency over my own body for once.

I keep running through conversations with my mom in my mind, trying to think of something, anything, that will change her mind or make her back out of this deal, but I know it’s bigger than me. Now bigger than her. How had I missed the signs and the hints that it was Julián’s family they were talking about this whole time? For someone who prides themselves on being smart, I’m sure as hell not.

I wonder if my mom or her team know about the protest. They surely don’t, or she would have mentioned it. A small smile touches my lips at the thought of the people here turning on her and ruining the deal, or at minimum, making it miserable enough for her to suffer at least a fraction of what Mateo and Julián and their employees will. I take another shower and finally get dressed.

With the most confidence I can gather, I straighten my back and march to my mom’s room. Lena opens the door instantly as if they expected me.

“Oriah, what’s wrong?” my mom asks as she covers the bottom of her phone.

“Nothing.” I know she’s only referring to medically. “I need to talk to you. Alone.” I give Lena an apologetic smile, as she turns to my mother for approval.

Knowing that Lena will clear it up, my mom ends her call without an explanation to whoever was on the other side. With one nod, Lena’s released like a dog by its owner. It bothers me deeply, but I have another issue at hand, one that is eating me alive.

“What is it, Ry?” She sits back against the plush couch in the center of her suite. The fabric of her high-necked plum dress goes perfectly with the grayish jewel tone of the couch, her dark hair and dark makeup making her seem like the lady of the manor. I take a deep breath, doing my best to not allow her to intimidate me before I even begin my plea.

“It’s about the Garcias,” I begin.

She sighs, harsh and exaggerated. “Not this again. I told you; this is about business. You’re too young to understand, you don’t know the magnitude of this deal, Oriah. You—”

I cut her off. “I’m not too young to understand, you’re the one who treats me like a child. I’m also not done speaking. So don’t interrupt me, and for once let me talk.” I stare at her, not blinking, and her shoulders relax a bit, though I know it’s for show as she crosses her legs and sips her coffee. Probably the only way she can physically keep her mouth shut for longer than ten seconds.

“What you’re doing is not ethical. I didn’t know that building this new hotel would mean taking away someone’s family business that they’ve had for generations, and I was ignorant andnaïve about what ‘development’ typically means and the damage that it can cause.” I use air quotes to add to her point. “You’re from here, Mom. This is your birthplace; these are supposed to be people you care about, yet you don’t even have an ounce of remorse for destroying their lives. Mateo and Julián have worked their entire lives to keep that company running, and you forcing them off their land, their docks, it’s so wrong. How do you not see that? Digging up the beautiful beaches… It’s so, so wrong.”

A few passing moments feel like hours as she leans forward and sets her mug down on the table between us. “Ry, I’m offering them money. And lots of it. More money than he’s ever made in his life. He can retire, his son can live a good life and not work himself to death like his father does, like Mateo’s father did. I’m not kicking them out to become destitute. They should be thanking me, especially Mateo, for trying to give him the type of life he’s never had, due to his own stubbornness and sense of loyalty to some family legacy that’s been disintegrating since I met him.”

“Not everyone’s only concern is money,” I bite back, my head reeling from just how callous she truly is.

“Well, it should be. Whether you like it or not, life requires funds to be able to live comfortably, and anyone who says otherwise doesn’t have a clue what it feels like to have financial freedom. Don’t forget that I’ve had it both ways, Oriah. I know the pain of hunger, the desperation of wanting more and knowing it’s out there. But”—she looks me dead in the eyes—“it’s not here.”

“And that’s why you left the only person you’ve ever loved?” I feel my question hit her like a wall, but her need for control and composure is somehow stronger than my words.

“Yes. I loved this island, these people, and my family. But if I had stayed here, what would have become of my life? At best, I’d be working in this hotel. At worst, I would have been haunted by what could have been for the rest of my miserable life. I loved Mateo, and I don’t know that I will ever be able to stop…” Her admitting this nearly knocks me over, but I stay quiet and let her finish.

“But I love myself and you much, much more. Even as a teenager, I knew I could never settle for the type of life he wanted, that a quiet life wasn’t enough for me. I know it’s enough for some, and I don’t slight them for it, but it’s never been enough for me. I asked him to come with me, but he wouldn’t leave that damn company behind, and here we are. And thank god he didn’t, or I wouldn’t have you. So whose side are you really on, Oriah? Use logic here, not what feels like love. I’m able to afford the life we live, and he’s latching on to a sinking boat.”

I’ve heard enough. She’s never going to back down. She thinks by throwing money at them, she’s doing them a favor, and nothing I say can or will change her mindset. She’s been this way her whole life and always will be. I stand to leave, and she watches me through waiting eyes.

“You aren’t living a whole life, Mom. And neither am I.”

I turn on my heel and leave her room. She calls my name once, but of course she doesn’t make any real attempt to try and stop me as I slam the door behind me.

Lena is in the hallway, looking unwell and worried as hell. “Ry, are you okay?” She reaches out and gently squeezes my shoulders in her usual way.

I nod, lying through my damn teeth, but the last person I can or want to vent to is my mom’s earpiece. I quietly go intomy room and finish my packing, replaying the conversation with my mom over and over. In wanting to learn more about her, I’ve failed in nearly every category, except I came to find out that she’s even more ruthless and selfish than I thought.

I stare out the window and back to my dress hanging from the front of the wardrobe, then back out the window again. My head is pounding, and I feel like I haven’t slept in a week. I don’t know how I’ll manage to look at my mother at the event, but I’ve decided to take it one step at a time. My conversation with her has me more fired up than before, and more helpless. The feeling of helplessness is not one that sits well with me. I’ve lived with it as an old friend, and enough is enough. I decide to take the first step, grabbing my purse and checking Amara’s location, which she shared with me our first night out, and join their protest.

Chapter Nineteen

---