A clank sounded. I turned to see the golden framed picture of Mama flat on the glass table. Flushed, my cousin picked it up and set it upright.
I blinked in surprise. Javi? The towering hulk before me looked nothing like the scrawny boy I remembered. His deep brown eyes darted back and forth, uncertainty written on his face. His eyebrows were dark and thick, and his prominent chin made him look much older.
He ran his fingers through his slicked-back hair and cringed. Wiping his fingers on his black pants, he gave me a sheepish grin. Not used to wearing gel? I smirked. For some reason, that set me at ease. Maybe he was still the laid-back kid I remembered.
“Rosita.” He greeted me with a kiss on the cheek. His cologne choked me and though we were cousins, the familiarity made my stomach knot.
It had been too long. We were strangers now.
“Rose.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Sorry. Rose… I’m sorry about your… dad.”
I stiffened. We hadn’t seen each other since we were seven. Now I was supposed to pretend that he cared… cared about me? Cared about my father? No. He was there—they were there out of obligation.
They were the only family I had left. My chest tightened.
Javi’s gaze flicked to my nose stud, but he didn’t say anything. Judging by their neat and prim appearance, such piercings were not allowed in his family.
“Papa said he was killed by a shifter.” My little cousin broke the awkward silence.
Her twin jabbed an elbow into her side. “Shh! You’re not supposed to tell her yet.”
I frowned at them. “A what? He died from a heart attack.”
They shared a knowing look and fell quiet.
“What are they talking about?” I glanced at Javi.
He smiled and shrugged. “Who knows? They’re weird.”
They stuck their tongues out at him in unison and pulled out their cell phones. The room grew quiet again. Javi shifted on his feet and loosened his tie. Sweat stained the pits of his light blue dress shirt, though the air was running full blast. Was it guilt? Discomfort?
Tía said he’d been delayed in coming because of something with school. Something apparently more important than rushing to my side to console me with enough tamales to feed an army like she had. Despite her need to obsess over everything and boss everyone around, I was thankful she’d taken control.
Someone had to. I knew jack squat about planning a funeral.
“Listos?” Her voice sounded behind me.
No. I wasn’t ready.
“Mami, where’s Papa?” one of the twins asked.
“He’s waiting at the church, mi amor.”
My mouth went dry. The church where Padre Santos would hold a candlelight vigil for Papi. Everyone in town would be there to say goodbye. It was better than hosting in our home, but how could I face them with their watery eyes and well wishes? I’d be reminded again and again that Papi was gone. Gone forever. A chill crept over me.
“Rose?” Javi touched my arm, startling me out of my paralysis.
I met his eyes and nodded. His forehead creased in concern. I flashed him a smile.
Don’t worry about me.
Inside I was crumbling, but I wasn’t going to break. Not here. I dug my nails into my palms, letting the pain steel me.
Hold it in. You will survive this.
“To the car, por favor. Vamos.” Tía Teresa’s shrill voice pierced through my thoughts.
Javi waved me first. The perfect gentleman.
“Does no one in your family drive?” I muttered to him as I passed.
Tía Teresa and the twins followed behind me, their shoes clapping loudly against the Spanish-tiled floor.
Javi caught up to me and grinned. “I’m grounded from driving and Mama…” He leaned in closer. “She’s scared of driving.”
I glanced at her stiff back. Was that what was beneath her strict, strait-laced personality? Fear? I didn’t remember her well, and I’d always thought of her as the unlucky woman who’d married Mama’s bully of a brother—Tío Javier.
Dismissing away the memories, I turned to Javi. “What did you do to get grounded?” My voice echoed down the hall.
My tía and cousins glanced back at us.
Javi flashed a sheepish smile. “Broke curfew.”
“I’m impressed. Thought you always followed the rules.”
His grin broadened. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, prima.”
Before I could respond, he quickened his pace and opened the front doors for us, letting us pass through. The early October California air was cool and crisp, but not cold enough for coats yet.
It as harvest time and without Papi the thought of enduring the rest of the season made my stomach ill. Sure, we had plenty of workers to see to it and our manager, Jose, was more than capable, but harvest time was Papi’s favorite.
Our favorite.
“Rosa, vamos.” Tía Teresa’s voice interrupted my thoughts.
I blinked at the black limo she’d rented. The driver stood with the door open, waiting for me. Fighting off another wave of nausea, I forced myself to slide in. The last time I’d been in a limo was two years ago for my friend’s quince, where we’d spilled her mother’s smuggled bottle of tequila all over the seats and our gowns.
The somber faces of my tía and cousins stared back at me, snapping me back to the present. There would be no dirty jokes and cheesy pop songs on this ride. I swallowed the lump in my throat and stared out the window. Their pitying stares made my skin flush.
I didn’t want their damn sympathy.
Too little. Too late.
It wasn’t until after my mother’s death fifteen years ago that they reached out to us and it was only the occasional holiday or reunion where they remembered to invite me and Papi. Until Tío and Papi’s falling out ten years ago.
Now it was just me.
My tía’s voice droned on as she instructed us on proper behavior for
