The door shut, and I heard two heavy locks slide into place, as well as a security chain. We had to be careful around here—especially those of us who couldn’t defend ourselves.
As I walked back to the apartment, I glanced at the clock. It was almost eight. Mom would be home in a few minutes.
After unlocking my own door, I dished two bowls, got out a bag of tortilla chips, and sat at the counter to eat. Usually supper was the time Mom and I debriefed each other on our day and caught up. Without her here to distract me, my mind drifted to dangerous topics. Like Martín and the other man who had left me: my dad. I wondered what my father was doing, where he was. He’d been gone so long, my memories of him were fuzzy. All except one.
One night when I was about six years old, I heard my bedroom door crack open. At that time, I had a canopy over my bed, and I could see the shape of my dad’s body through the sheer fabric.
“Daddy?” I’d asked in a confused, groggy voice.
“Hi, honey,” he’d said softly, pushing the curtain aside and sitting on the edge of my bed. His large hand had rubbed my forehead and tucked messy curls out of the way.
I’d blinked up at him, tired. “What’s going on?”
Wordlessly, he’d kissed my forehead, holding his lips there and scratching my skin with his mustache for a good thirty seconds.
I remembered being confused. Why was Daddy in my room? Why was he kissing me so long when our bedtime kisses only lasted a second? Then, he’d stood up abruptly and left me alone.
I’d called for him, but he didn’t come back. No matter how much I cried, he never came back.
The door opened, and I jerked upright, being forced out of my memory despite distinctly feeling his scratchy kiss. Mom came in looking exhausted and dropped her purse on the counter. Still, she put on a smile and came to kiss me on the forehead, replacing the bad memory with a good one. “How was your day, sweetie?”
You mean besides my humiliation this morning and the confusing advance from a billionaire? “It was fine.”
After washing her hands at the sink, she poured herself a glass of water and sat beside me, taking a bite of her meal. She closed her eyes and moaned. “Perfect, mija.”
“Thanks,” I said, even though we both knew the dish didn’t even hold a candle to her cooking. Mi abuela had taught Mom lessons in cooking and flavor I couldn’t grasp no matter how hard I tried.
“How was school?” she asked.
“Uneventful, except...” I debated whether or not to tell her about Kai. We usually talked about everything, but...
“What?” she asked.
I winced. “Kai Rush gave me his number.”
She nearly choked on her water, sending half a gulp back into the plastic Waldo’s Diner cup. “He did what?”
“Relax,” I said. “I didn’t call him.”
“You better not,” she snapped.
I bristled against her tone. She never talked to me like this. It was like she didn’t trust me at all. “Amá, I won’t.”
“Good,” she said. “I want to stop living like this.” She gestured at our apartment, at the living room where she slept on a fold-out couch because she insisted I take the lone bedroom. “I want furniture I don’t have to cover with blankets and shoes that don’t have holes. I want to finally take you to Walden Island like you’ve always wanted. It’s half an hour away by ferry, and we’ve never had the money to go.”
“We will have all of those things and more,” I argued. “What do you think I’ve been working so hard at school for?”
“Not when you graduate college,” she said. “You shouldn’t have the weight of me on your shoulders for eight years of med school.”
“But I already do!” I cried. “I have to help work all the time. I’m constantly reminded how much you’re sacrificing so I can go to Emerson. I should just be in a public school—”
“Don’t you start with me, mija,” she snapped, her eyes blazing. “You are going to that school, and you are having the opportunities I didn’t have. The opportunities you deserve. And you will not blow it on some boy.”
“I won’t!” I cried. “Why won’t you believe me?”
“I told you Martín was no good, and you didn’t listen!”
Her words twisted the knife already in my heart. I didn’t want to fight. I didn’t want to think. I picked up my bowl and backpack and went back to the room without another word.
Once inside, I grabbed the paper with Kai’s phone number out of my backpack and ripped it to shreds.
Five
Tension blanketed our apartment the next morning as we got ready for work. I finished showering, turned off the handle, and reached for a towel on the towel bar. It was just a little too far away, and Mom slid it over so I could get it.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
“Mm,” was all she said in response.
She kept her gaze in the mirror as I left the bathroom and didn’t exchange two words with me as we grabbed breakfast from Seaton Bakery, but when we got to the Rushes’ mansion and began unloading cleaning supplies, she said, “Remember to keep it professional in there.”
I had half a mind to tell her what happened yesterday and let her know just how unprofessional I’d already been. The other, smarter half of my mind forced me to nod.
I grabbed the handle and began pulling the cart, but Mom stopped it. “Mija, I know you probably think I’m being hard on you, but I just want what’s best for you.”
The funny thing was, so did I. I let out a sigh. “I know, Mom.”
She picked up a five-gallon bucket and put her arm around me as we started toward the house, the cart’s wheels rattling loudly behind us in the quiet morning air.
The air outside of Kai’s house smelled fresh, not like the manufacturing smoke that permeated Seaton. Robert held the entryway door open for us, and I breathed in the freshness one last time before stepping inside.
“Today’s the living areas,” Robert reminded us.
That was easy because we could start on the living room right off the foyer. Just a few feet away, I could see Mr. Rush working in his office, not giving us a second thought.
“Why don’t you start with the dust mop again?” Mom asked, drawing my attention away from the throne room.
I took it from her, put in my earbuds, and got to work. Around five, we had the entire room cleaned, and I paused my music to see where Mom wanted us to go next.
“Apparently, there’s another living space upstairs,” she said.
With a nod, I loaded the cart and walked behind her to the main staircase off the living room. She lifted one end, and I grabbed the other, going behind her up the steps.
At the top, she let out a little groan with her hand on her lower back and stretched.
My eyebrows creased. “Have you been doing the stretches I found for you?”
She shook her head and gave me a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll get to them tonight. But ibuprofen works just fine for now.”
Grabbing the cart handle, she continued down the spacious hallway, leaving me and my concerned look behind. With a sigh, I followed behind her, looking around. This area was different from where I’d been the day before.