Page 61 of The Golden Boy's Guide to Bipolar
I thought I did too. But I guess it was nice to feel useful. To have some kind of sameness to my days, even when everything else has gone to shit.
Abuela’s frown disappears when I don’t answer, and she gives me a sad-ish smile. “As much as I love having you here, mijo, your mami needs you home.”
She needs me?
What utter bullshit.
“Mijo?” Mami says through the phone.
“What?” I say, not bothering to hide my irritation.
“It’s time to come home, Cesar.”
“What, so I’m not in trouble anymore?” I ask.
“Oh, you’re in trouble. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you around.”
“Then why did you send me away in the first place?” I snap.
She’s quiet for a while, and when she speaks, her voice comes out as barely a whisper. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
I don’t say shit back because what the hell am I supposed to say tothat?
“I thought you could use someone who you could relate to—”
“—but you hate Abuela,” I interrupt. Abuela’s face twists for a split second before she clenches her jaw and wipes away any emotion from her expression. I immediately feel bad for saying it since I’m mad at my mom, not her.
“I don’t hate your abuela,” Mami says calmly.
“You called her crazy,” I shoot back. “Is that what you think of me?”
“All right, that’s enough.” Abuela takes the phone back before I get a proper answer and puts it to her own ear.
“I know, mija.... Okay... I’ll drop him off in an hour.”
I can’t help but notice there were no “I love you”s exchanged.
We spend the car ride home in silence. I feel like if I say anything I’ll break. I know Abuela isn’t abandoning me like Mami basically did. I know legally she can’t keep me if my mom wants me home. Still, it feels like a betrayal somehow.
When we pull up to the curb outside my house, I don’t reach for the handle, and neither does Abuela.
“You know you can always call me if you need anything, right?” she says. There’s no pity in her tone, either. Just a mutual understanding. “I know kids these days prefer texting, but I’m not so tech savvy, so I dug up my old email in case you’d rather do that. Here.” She hands me a piece of paper with her email on it.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m turned around, pulling my grandma into a tight hug. “Thank you,” I say.
“Do you want me to walk in with you?” she asks.
“No,” I lie. I don’t want to go inside alone, but I also don’t want to prolong this any longer than it needs to be. “I’ll go. I... um... thank you, Abuela,” I say, and she kisses my cheek before I get out of the car and make my way to the front door.
I hesitate before knocking. I look back, and Abuela hasn’t driven off yet. She motions for me to knock on the door, so I finally do.
It opens almost immediately.
My mom stands there with my phone in one hand. She doesn’t hesitate before moving for a hug, but I sidestep her, grabbing my phone and slipping into the house before she has a chance to touch me.
I walk straight past the kitchen, where Yami is making dinner. Has she kept up with my Sunday dinner resolution this whole time? She pointedly keeps from turning around to see me walk by. For a split second, I almost want to apologize to her before I remember this is exactly what I wanted. What I need.
“Cesar, let’s talk,” Mami says, but I just keep walking.
