Page 30 of Shadowed Obsession

Sounds good to me. Love y'all!

Looking forward to it. I love you too!

13/

sundays aren’t for stalking

César

4:44 p.m. | 14 days after ‘the incident’

Iround the dinner table to set it the wayMamiprefers. Dinner is nowhere near ready and will take a while longer since we ran out ofcubanellepeppers. Dad wanted to makecarne de res guisadaand volunteered to pick up some more.

Growing up with both Puerto Rican and Dominican parents, there was always a blend of cultures in everything we did, especially family meals.

Deirdre crosses my mind, and I wonder if she was close to her parents before she moved here. The thought of her not having anyone to rely on while she’s so far from home bothers me.

The urge to sneak off to check her cameras overcomes me. I have strict rules about not allowing work to spill into my off days and haven’t had an issue sticking to that until now. The distraction I desperately needed comes in the form of my nickname being called from upstairs.

“Chuki! We need a tall person,”Mamishouts from somewhere in the house.

“Can we borrow your height?” Mariana follows up with.

“Sure,” I yell back, laughing to myself as I follow their voices.

Frustrated huffs and bickering lead me to the guest bedroom closet. I find Mariana andMamistanding on their tiptoes reaching for the top shelf that’s at least a foot higher than their fingertips.

“What are y’all doing in here?”

“Mamiwants to show us some old photos, but we can’t reach the boxes,” Mariana grunts out.

“I got this,” I reassure them, standing outside the door as they clear out.

Moments later, I exit the cramped closet with several boxes I retrieved.

“Show off,” Mariana teases.

“Gracías, mijo,”Mamisays, taking a few boxes from me and lowering herself to the floor to sit cross-legged as she sifts through them. My sister and I follow, removing lids to find what must be hundreds of photos in each one.

“Is there anything in particular we’re looking for?” I ask, ready to take on a task that gets my mind off of Doe.

“Yes. Pictures of Mariana as a baby.”

“I’m doing my clinicals for labor and delivery, and I delivered my first babies this week. I love it,” she says with a hopeful smile. “I think that’s what I want to do if emergency medicine becomes too much for me.”

“That’s amazing, Mari.”

“Anyway, I was telling her that some of the babies came out big enough to handle bills, and she swears that I was ten pounds when I was born,” my sister nearly yells.

“I remember. Your head was as big as aguanabana, too,” I tell her with a sigh, a smirk quickly following. “You never did grow into it.”

“It was not,” she argues, slapping my arm.

“How would you know? That’s why we’re searching for proof now.”

Mamicackles to herself as she sorts through the stack of photos in her hand. We stay like this for a while. Stopping to ask questions and listen to mom’s stories behind the photos.

“I don’t remember us having a sloth as a kid.”

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