Page 57 of The Masks We Wear

All I thought about were his eyes. The caramel swirling around his chocolate irises as he looked at me with a strange sort of curiosity. Like he doesn’t know that everything we are now is a result ofhim.

I almost told him. Almost broke down and exposed how weak and messed up I am over it. Because Iamhurt. I’m pissed and even worse, my heart still doesn’t know whether to beat or stop when he’s near me.

My eyes flicker across the backyard to the dark house behind mine, and a familiar tightness pulls across my chest before I rip my gaze away.

I can’t allow myself to think too deeply for too long.

Sighing, I fluff the navy pillow one more time, double-checking to make sure everything is perfect.

My aunt, Mina’s flight, is coming in today. Actually… I glance at the stove clock, and my pulse stutters.Shit.

Her flight’s already landed, and since she refused to let me pick her up, her Uber could be here any damn second.

Taking the steps two at a time, I fly up the stairs and into the bathroom. When I look in the mirror, it’s hard not to cringe at my appearance. The shiner my mom gave me last week is now a ghost of a bruise, leaving a tint of green that’s easy enough to cover. A little dry shampoo and a messy bun take care of my hair problem. But the red rim surrounding my eyes will have to be blamed on my contacts if she asks.

But she might not. Why would she? My nerves start to tingle again. What if she does?

I remember when I was young, around seven, and we would video chat, she would ask me about anything and everything.

“You look so pretty. Did you put that yellow bow in your hair?” My aunt’s face fills the small screen, her grin stretching from ear to ear.

I beam my biggest, proudest smile, not even worrying about my missing top tooth. “Yes! I even did the braid, Aunt Mina. I watched a video on it!”

“Ah, mija, you did so well. Muy Buena. ¿Dónde está tu mamá?”

Peering over the iPad, I make sure Dad isn’t anywhere near me. Shrugging, I wipe away the sudden gush of tears, burning my eyes. “Her room. Like always.”

“Do you know where you are yet?”

I shake my head before my father calls from the kitchen that it’s time for bed.

I never understood what she meant when she would ask that. When she first asked me about it, I would always tell her home. But then she would prod with more questions like street names or the name of my school. She even wanted me to describe my neighborhood.

I’ve been looking for you for thirteen years.

It still doesn’t make complete sense, and I feel like I’m putting together a puzzle with only my sense of touch. I can’t see the overall picture, but the pieces are beginning to lock into place.

Tugging the oversized sweater over my head, I turn to the bathroom door just as the bell rings.

She’s here.

With shaking hands, I clutch the stair railing and descend as slowly as possible. The door feels so big in comparison to my hand as I grip the cold metal knob and turn. It swings open with the cold breeze, letting snow flurries dance inside the threshold.

My aunt Mina stands in the middle of the door, wrapped in so many layers, I can’t make out her face, and has a small suitcase by her side. A bubble of nervous laughter spills from my mouth as I take a step back. “Aunt Mina?”

The triple-wrapped figure shakes and moves sluggishly inside. Her voice is muffled, but I’d know it anywhere. “Si, now help your dear old aunt. I’m liable to get frostbite out here!”

I giggle again, wiping my slick hands on my jeans before moving to grab a padded arm. I help her through the foyer and shut the door, then pry the luggage from her frigid grasp. It’s an odd meeting, but it’s much less awkward, which eases my pulse a little.

“It’s not that cold.”

She huffs, using her marshmallow-puffed arms to unwrap her three scarfs. “I have never seen snow my entire life. All these jackets are from the airport store.”

Laughing, the wound muscles in my neck seem to relax. She was always good at weird situations, had a way of taking them and inserting her charismatic charm to pacify even the worst circumstance.

I help her unzip the four types of jackets. Each one shed makes the rush of blood in my ears impossibly loud.

Down jacket.

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