As we pulled up to the church, I grew numb. Clenching my eyes shut, I took a deep breath.
You can do this. You can do this.
Without warning, the door opened, and I froze.
“Miss?” The driver offered his hand.
I fought the urge to slap it away. He was just doing his job, but panic set in and all I wanted to do was run and hide.
“Give us a minute.” Javi motioned the driver back.
My rapid heartbeat drowned out the slam of the car door.
“Rosa, everyone is waiting. We must go.” Tía Teresa’s eyebrows pinched together.
Javi frowned at her. “Mami, tranquila.”
She snapped her mouth closed and shook her head at us.
My eyes met Javi’s. He reached across and held out his hand for mine. I didn’t budge.
Seeing my apprehension, he gave me a nod of understanding and let his hand drop.
“Take your time, prima. You don’t have to do this, you know.”
Tía Teresa scoffed. “Si. Ella tiene que hacerlo, Javier. It is her Papa’s vigilia.”
Cristina and Juliana stared in rapt attention, mouths agape.
Javi sighed. “Mami, ja. Give us a minute, please.”
My tía huffed and waved a finger at me. “You must come in, Rosa. You will regret it forever if you don’t.”
With that final warning, she knocked on the door and motioned for the twins to slide out with her as the driver opened the door for them.
“Just come outside with me, Rose. We don’t have to go inside the church.”
I took a deep breath and followed Javi. The cool air landed on my exposed arms and back. We watched as tía led the twins inside and the driver nodded at us before pulling away to find parking.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I looked up. The Spanish cathedral towered above us, the light from the waning sun casting shadows on the cobblestones below.
Javi shifted on his feet. “I… I don’t know what to say. I know you probably don’t want to hear anything anyone has to say anyway, and if you don’t want to go in, I’ll tell the driver to take you back to your house.”
His dark eyes shone with concern and a protectiveness I’d forgotten about. I appreciated his concern, but a part of me still burned with anger. We hadn’t been a part of each other’s lives for a long time, and though he was trying to be nice, I hated that he saw me like that. I could read the pity in his eyes, and it made me feel weak. A lick of anger curled in my chest.
I was not weak. I didn’t need him or his family.
Steeling myself once more, I turned back toward the cathedral. “I’m good. I’m ready.”
“Are you sure?”
Ignoring him, I marched up the stairs. I would not let them see me crumble. Later, alone, I could break apart, but not yet. A cool breeze swept across my bare back, making me shiver. It was stupid, but I couldn’t help but imagine it as a sign from Papi—a reassurance that he was there with me.
Squaring my shoulders, I strode through the open doors. Javi followed a few steps behind me. My eyes swept the church. The white and black marble foyer stretched before me; the black stripes twisting and turning in artistic design. Scented candles burned; the smell overpowering and familiar. Papi was a devoted catholic, and though I had doubts about our faith, I’d grown up there. I pushed away the memories before they could rise.
Behind me, light streamed in through the stained glass windows. Voices drifted ahead from the open doors leading to the sanctuary. Swallowing my dread, I stepped through with Javi by my side, thankful for his presence, though I hated to admit it. Heads swiveled toward us, eyes following our steps.
I took a deep breath and held my chin up as we made our way to the front. Whispers echoed around us, and their pity filled gazes fell on me. I refused to return their stares. I couldn’t bear to see the truth written on their faces or the thoughts I knew they were thinking.
Poor Rosita. First her mother and now her father. That poor girl.
I was an orphan.
Fighting off the waves of sorrow, I hardened myself. Tía Teresa nodded to us in approval as we slid into the pew beside her. My eyes met the man towering next to her. His face revealed nothing of his emotion. It was a face that in the past would have been called imperial or regal, but in the modern tongue hardass worked just as well. I knew from pictures that he looked like Mama—same dark eyes and hair and that proud chin, a feature I thankfully, didn’t inherit like Javi.
Tio’s thick eyebrows furrowed as he returned my stare. There was no warmth in his eyes. I shuddered as memories resurfaced. I could hear the angry words flying back and forth as my father threw him out of our house ten years ago. Try as I might, I couldn’t remember what their fight was about. Papi always refused to answer when I’d questioned him about it. Judging by the stiffness of my uncle’s neck, I would get no answers from him either.
A loud sniffle caught my ear and brought my head around. I glanced at the somber faces and the ornate altar in front of us. My eyes fell on the casket. It was closed, but the thought that my father lay dead in his best suit beneath the lid made my stomach churn.
The candles bathed the dimly lit room in a soft glow. For a moment, I was transported somewhere far away and long ago. I could pretend it wasn’t real. It was just some horrible nightmare. I would wake up soon. My chest tightened.
But Papi would never wake up. He was gone.
Padre Santos led us in a prayer. His voice rose and fell like
