Page 53 of The Crush
My grandfather ultimately decided it was divine retribution, penance extracted for the lives he and others had taken over the course of the war. Godmusthave been angry with them, even if they’d merely done what they had to do to survive. Even if they had been thegood guys.
I never met my grandfather. He died not long after the rain returned, before Aarón was born and became the fourth generation to carry the name. By then, my grandmother and father only spoke of him rarely, enough that he was remembered but not quite missed.
Uncompromising. Relentless. Resilient. Ahardman. An even harder legacy to follow. Whether you wanted to or not.
The day my father first held his eldest son in his hands he told him he would never be to him as his own father was. That he’d be different. A promise he had every intention of keeping.
He didn’t.
Forty
Daniel
Monday, October 10, 1994
“Mid-seventies high today with no rain in the forecast. Tomorrow, look for—”
My fingers wrench the dial to the left, silence falling in the kitchen as I begin my quest for coffee. Blessedly, I’m saved from the monumental task of actually making it myself, at least half a pot still left from my dad along with a nearby bottle of ibuprofen. I reach for a mug but ignore the pills. Sure that once I get moving, the persistent ache that exists in nearly every part of my body will fade.
I’m starting to pour when the kitchen phone emits a shrill ring, and I curse as I spill the scalding liquid onto the hand that wasn’t damaged. Irritated, I grab for the kitchen towel hanging off the oven to dry myself as I glance at the clock.Eight o’clock on Monday morning. Right on schedule.
Wondering if my dad would mind if I simply rip the damn thing from the wall, I walk over, pick up the receiver, and then promptly hang it back up. Although, the message apparently isn’t clear enough since it starts ringing again a minute or solater, right as I’m searching for something to bring Isabel to eat along with her coffee.
This time, I answer.
“Listen, you can tell Brenner that I said he canfucking—”
“Daniel Alejandro.” Eva’s sharp voice comes through the line clear as a bell. “Iknowthis is not how you were taught to answer the phone.”
Perfect.
“No, ma’am, it was not. I apologize. I thought… That’s not important.” There’s a heavy pause, and I hate how uncomfortable it now feels between us. Always a presence in my life, Eva had stepped in quite a bit after my mamá passed. Now, I’ve fucked up not only my relationship with her but likely the one she has with her daughter.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I really am.”
She sighs, sounding tired. “What were the two of you thinking was going to happen?”
Before I can come up with an answer, she barrels on. “Guess that’s not important either. Unfortunately, I don’t have a lot of time. Could I talk to her?”
“She might be sleeping,” I say, planting the seeds for an excuse in case Isabel isn’t ready. “But I’ll go check.”
“Thank you.”
I wait for a second in case there’s more, but then I set the phone down, letting it dangle on its cord as I walk back down the hall to my room.
When I duck my head in, Isabel is facing away from me, pulling on one of my hoodies for chores, and the sight of her in my clothesis nearly enough to make me forget the reason I came back here in the first place. “Bonita?”
She smiles as she looks over her shoulder at me, but her expression falters and she fully turns when she sees mine.
“Your mamá is on the phone.”
“Oh.” She stares down at her hands, already fidgeting. “Okay.”
I tuck her into my side as we head back to the kitchen, leaning down to whisper in her ear before we round the corner. “You want me to stay?”
She nods, bending to reach for the phone before she leans back against my chest. As she raises the receiver to her ear, I wrap my arms around her, resting my chin on top of her head and swaying gently.
“Hello?”
