Page 60 of The Golden Boy's Guide to Bipolar
I try not to sound bitter as I say it. Moni might not get why I’m mad, and I don’t want to have to explain it, only to be told I’m overreacting.
“Huh. Seems like she and Abuela have some kind of old beef. Maybe Abuela’s jealous of her relationship with your family?”
“Maybe, I don’t know.” I climb up to the top bunk. “Anyways, did you get caught on purpose?” I ask, desperate for a subject change.
“I didn’t know if you were still here or not,” Moni says as if that answers my question. “Abuela gets lonely, and it’s not like she’s looking for a boyfriend to keep her company. Besides, I like it here.”
“Suit yourself,” I say as I roll over and try to fall asleep. But Abuela and Doña Violeta aren’t exactly talking quietly.
About an hour passes, and there’s no sign of them shutting up. In fact, they’ve gone from just talking to having laughing fits every couple of minutes. I think it might be the first time I’ve even heard Abuela laugh. Louder than them, though, is Moni tossing and turning every time their conversation seeps through the walls.
She finally lets out an annoyed groan. “Is that lady ever gonna leave? How are we supposed to sleep in these conditions!”
“I guess they missed each other,” I mumble. While I want to be mad that Doña Violeta’s even here, I can’t stop thinking about how much of a victory it is for Abuela.
If Doña Violeta is one of the relationships she lost forever ago, and she’s able to fix it all these years later, I’m happy for her. I still don’t think I want that for myself, but at least one of us can have a happy ending.
I close my eyes, and the last thing I hear before I fall asleep is my grandma’s laughter.
23
When You’re Better Off Alone Anyway
Isolation
Days pass, maybe weeks, no idea how many. Couldn’t care less. The days are all the same, and not in the safe, predictable way they were before. There are no seven o’clock calls from Jamal and no Sunday cooking with Yami. Instead, it’s lunch with Bianca, glares from Nick, and a cold shoulder from Jamal. As soon as I finish my chores and eat, I go straight to bed every day.
Surprisingly enough, Abuela hasn’t made me get out of bed all weekend, but nothing wakes me up faster on a Sunday morning than hearing my own name.Especiallyif it sounds like I’m not supposed to be listening. My abuela is talking on the phone, and it doesn’t take long for me to figure out it’s my mom she’s talking to.
“He’s had enough space, what Cesar needs right now is his mother.... I know, mija... I know.... He thinks you don’t want to see him. How do you think he feels when you—” My mom must have cut her off at that, because Abuela never finishes the thought. She’s quiet for a bit before going on. “Yes, I know.... Okay, I’ll put him on.”
Then she’s walking to my door, and I have to pretend I didn’t just hear all that.
“Cesar, phone’s for you.” Abuela comes in and opens the curtains to “wake me up.”
I shut my eyes and roll over. “Tell them I’m sleeping,” I say, pretending I have no idea who might possibly be on the other side of the phone.
“It’s your mami, mijo.”
“TellherI’m sleeping,” I repeat myself, more firmly this time. I pull the blanket over my head.
The blanket gets yanked off, then a sharp pain in my ear pulls a yelp out of my mouth.
“Ay!” I shout, but she drags me out of bed by my ear.
“The phone is for you,” she says again, and takes my hand, placing the phone in my palm. She crosses her arms and watches me intently.
I put the phone to my ear but don’t say anything.
“Cesar?” Mami says, but I still don’t answer. Abuela can make me hold the phone, but she can’t make me talk to my mom. “Are you ready to come home?”
I look at my grandma like she’s a lifeline. “Do I have to go back?” I ask quietly, not bothering to cover the phone speaker with my hand. I don’t realize I’d rather stay with my grandma until I’m offered the option to go back. Going back means facing my mom... facing mysister....
It’s easier if I don’t have to look Yami in the eye after what I did. She was right about me not having the right to wear my jaguar necklace. There’s a reason I took it off.
Abuela frowns at me.
“I thought you hated all the chores I make you do,” she says teasingly.
