Page 101 of The Golden Boy's Guide to Bipolar
“Then it’s settled,” Mami says, squeezing Yami’s hand.
It’s quiet for a bit before I realize I’m the only one who hasn’t apologized yet. And probably the one who has the most apologizing to do, even if they probably don’t expect me to say anything.
I feel almost like I’m going to confession, but this time it’s not God I need forgiveness from. Instead of waiting for someone to change the subject and let me off the hook, I just start blurting out all of it.
I apologize for everything I can remember doing. Hooking up with Bianca, lashing out at everyone, yelling at Yami and mymom, being so mean to everyone else and myself, and even not following through with making Sunday dinners. I basically get it all out without stopping for air, but I’m still holding my breath when I’m done.
I still can’t breathe until Yami gets up and pulls me into a hug. Then everyone else joins in, and before I know it, I’m wrapped up like a cinnamon roll, and I can’t tell if I’m laughing or crying. Maybe both.
After the emotional roller coaster that was that whole conversation, I’m probably exhausted enough to sleep for several days. Doña Violeta and Abuela promise to come back for dinner tomorrow, but they all keep hanging out for a bit while I let myself go take a nap. For the first time in a long time, sleep comes easily and peacefully.
When I wake up again, I check my phone to see it’s already eleven at night. My throat is dry as hell—I might be dehydrated from the crying—so I get up for some water. When I get to the end of the hallway, I’m surprised to hear Abuela and Doña Violeta still awake and having a quiet conversation.
It feels intimate, so I try to be discreet as I sneak past them and into the kitchen to give them some privacy. It isn’t until I turn back around with my water that it all makes sense.
Doña Violeta is sitting on the couch with Abuela on the floor, head between Violeta’s knees. There’s a relaxed smile on Abuela’s lips as she closes her eyes while Doña Violeta gently braids her hair. They must have just started, because the braid is still only a few inches off Abuela’s scalp. Doña Violeta hums softly as herhands weave effortlessly through my abuela’s hair like she’s done it a million times before.
Because she has.
It wasn’t my abuelo who braided Abuela’s hair all those years ago, but Doña Violeta.She’sthe one Abuela called “her love” in all the stories she told me and Moni. The person she had to learn how to sleep without. Was my grandpa the “choice” Abuela was talking about when she apologized? It doesn’t take long to get my confirmation in the form of a snore.
She’s already asleep.
It may have been years since this was normal for them, but right now it looks like the most natural thing in the world. If I’m right—and I know I am—it’s been ages since they’ve been able to be intimate like this.
But looking at them now, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think they never stopped.
37
When You Don’t Want to Be a Bomb Anymore
Progress
Despite the hours-long nap I took yesterday, I guess I was emotionally exhausted enough to sleep through the entire night and half the day. When I eventually crawl out of bed and into the living room, I realize it’s already almost time to start getting dinner ready.
I know no one expects me to keep up with the Sunday cooking promise I made months ago, especially not right now, but I don’t know. It feels like a good gesture to help Yami and my mom with dinner. Like if I can do this one thing, even if it’s just for today, even if it’s not how I originally planned, maybe that means things can get better.
I head to the kitchen, where Yami’s already digging in the fridge and my mom’s filling a pot with water to boil.
“Need some help?” I ask, and they both turn around like I jump scared them.
I expect them to keep babying me and insist I rest up instead, but Mami smiles and gestures toward the vegetables on the chopping board. “I’d love that.”
With the three of us working together, we end up spendingmore time just talking than we do cooking. Not about anything important, but it still feels good. I don’t remember the last time I laughed about nothing.
Before long, there’s a knock on the door before the lock turns, and Doña Violeta, Abuela, and Moni all come in. I almost go in for a hug with Moni before I remember she doesn’t do those. Usually I’m not a huge hugger for no reason either, but I kind of thought maybe she wouldn’t be coming back from visiting her dad this time. It’s been a really long punishment.
After we all say hi, Mami shoos me, Yami, and Moni away to the living room so she can talk with Abuela and Doña Violeta. I guess we’re off dinner duty for now. Instead of following us to the living room, though, Yami goes to the bathroom. I know she and Moni aren’t exactly close anymore, but I can’t tell if she’s purposely avoiding her or not.
“So, you still not going back to L.A.?” I ask when we’re out of earshot of everyone else.
“It’s okay, I like it here way better,” Moni says as she plops down on the couch. “My dad thought I’d cave by now and go to the school he wants, but that’s not gonna happen.”
“That sucks,” I say. I can’t help but feel bad that I was able to start repairing things with my mom, but Moni is still going through the same shit. She knows better than anyone else how I felt being the family disappointment. Somehow, though, Moni never seems to feel guilty or bothered in the least by what her dad thinks of her. “You okay?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” she asks. “I did think about what you and Abuela said about the dispensary. I don’t want to sabotagemy business before it even starts, so I decided to put a pause on things. For now.”
“It’ll be okay,” I say, trying to make her feel better, because Moni actually seems pretty bummed. Honestly, I’m surprised; Moni’s not usually one to change her mind about something, so it feels like a big deal.
