Page 7 of Body Language
“Buenos días, mi amor,” she replied over her shoulder. “La comida está en el horno si tienes hambre.”
I walked past the counter and kissed the crown of Heidi’s head. She was sitting at the bar in her pink leotard, feet swinging as she worked on her coloring book.
“Morning, superstar,” I whispered.
Rita turned and said, “She has ballet class in an hour.”
“I know, I know,” I smiled, turning to my little sister. I grabbed her soft cheeks and kissed them all over. “You keep practicing like this, and you’re gonna be the best ballerina in all of Antionette.”
Heidi giggled. “Promise?”
“I pinky promise.” I stuck my pinky out and she locked hers with mine, sealing the deal like it meant everything.
I kissed her one last time, straightened up, and looked at Rita. “I’m headed to take Hux to basketball. Gracias por todo.”
“Claro, mi reina,” she said with a soft smile. “Be careful.”
Rita had been with us for the last three years. What started as a part-time gig to help with Heidi became a full-time presence in our lives. She cooked. She cleaned. She braided hair and reminded me when my own appointments were. She mothered when I couldn’t.
At first, it had just been me and Hux. Years of just us—me figuring out school drop-offs and lights turned off. But at twenty, everything shifted. Mama showed up talking about how she was clean, how she was different, how she met a man in rehab who was gonna change everything.
His name didn’t matter. What mattered was the newborn baby she came home with.
Heidi.
And for a second—just a second—I thought maybe we had a chance at being normal again.
But six weeks after Heidi was born, her dad relapsed and two weeks after that, he died.
Mama followed him right back into the darkness. No fight. No farewell. Just disappeared into herself again.
Getting full custody of my siblings wasn’t even a question.
And I did what I had to do to keep them straight.
Rita was a gift. She lived with us free of charge—my decision—and I made sure she was paid well enough to send money home to take care of her kids and grandkids. Because when someone loves your family like their own, you don’t just pay them. You bless them.
“Love y’all,” I called over my shoulder, heading for the door.
“¡Te amo también!” Rita yelled back.
“Love you toooo!” Heidi shouted.
And with that, I stepped back into the world, keys in hand, body snatched, bank account freshly blessed, and a teenager waiting in the car like I didn’t wipe his ass fifteen years ago.
The projects still smelled like fried bologna and busted dreams, but somehow, it felt like home.
I pulled my car up to the curb slowly, letting the speakers fade as I threw it in park. The heat hit different out there. Doors wide open, box fans in windows, somebody’s auntie out on the stoop still in her nightgown yelling about stolen hot chips and kids doing too damn much.
As soon as I stepped out, the madness started.
“Well, look who decided to come back to the trenches!”
“Damn, Niv! That you?! Lemme hold somethin’!”
“Girl, you too fine to be walkin’ out here wit’ all that! We need a warning bell or somethin’!”
I laughed, locking my door and tossing my keys in my purse. “Y’all still loud as hell and still broke. Some things never change.”
