“Olga, you need to understand, revolution—”
“Requires sacrifice? Oh Reggie, I know. What I don’t know is, why now?”
“Because your mother needs you.”
Olga felt a pull in her chest at his words. She should feel indignation at this. Rage, even. That this woman who was a stranger to her, who didn’t know the difference between missives and mothering, would have the audacity to approach her for the first time in decades with a need. To ask for something. To present herself to Olga in this way. She should feel this way, but she did not. Instead, she felt a long dormant affection bubble up clearly in her chest: the idea of having a value to her mother warming her insides.
“What does she need?” Olga asked.
“She’ll let you know,” Reggie said. “If she wanted me to know now, she would have told me.”
Olga shook her head. “I can’t keep this from my brother.”
Reggie hesitated. “If your mother wanted Prieto involved, she would have sent me to see him instead.”
This irked her. “Reggie, I know my mom is like your best friend in arms right now, but please don’t forget that when she bounced, it was my brother who helped take care of me. He deserves to know.”
“I wouldn’t suggest you break your mother’s confidence.”
A surge of anger pulsed through Olga’s body. She went to let herself out of the car, but the lock was on.
“Unlock the fucking door, I want to get out of here.”
“Olga, let Clyde walk you, it’s pouring out!” Reggie went to lower the divider to ask Clyde for help, but Olga was too quick and had unlocked the door and ran out into the rain, the curls of her hair released from the straight by the steady stream of water.
FINAL PAYMENTS
Since Abuelita died, Mother’s Day was one of nearly unbearable torment for Olga. Normally, days, weeks, and sometimes even months would pass where, barring receiving one of her letters, Olga could, more or less, lock her mother, and her absence, inside a deeply buried mental safe. One where the hurt and pain she caused could not contaminate the other aspects of Olga’s life. Mother’s Day, however, was an unavoidable reminder, and without Abuelita to shed affection upon, the “holiday” left her with idle, nervous thoughts run rampant, infecting her perceptions of all other matters of her life. Assuming Prieto felt the same way, they had, on a few early occasions, convened, but somehow being with her brother made her feel all the more motherless. Their orphan state emphasized by the other’s presence. Instead, she began, on that day each year, to isolate and drink until she could not possibly think cogent thoughts about this woman she barely knew, nor feel shame for having been left by her. This is what Olga did immediately after she left Reggie King and the next day that followed, feigning to Meegan that she was “working from home” while actually blackout drunk in front of her TV. It wasn’t until the Wednesday before Mabel’s wedding, when Tía Lola called, repeatedly, that Olga was forced to snap out of it.
“So, listen,” Lola began, not bothering with formalities, “Mabel got herself into a bit of a situation with the catering hall…” Her voice trailed off, but Olga already could tell where this is going.
“How much does she need?”
“If me, you, and your brother each kick in three, she should be good.”
“？Co?o! She’s short nine thousand? What hap—”
“Ay, ten, mija. Pero my brother JoJo, God bless, had some cash he was going to give her as a wedding gift. So, can you come with me later to take it?”
“Take what?”
“The cash! That’s the whole issue. The last payment is due in cash, and Julio was supposed to take care of it since he mainly gets paid in cash, pero”—and here her aunt dropped her voice—“I guess he got fired two months ago and never said anything. Mabel just found out last night. The venue called looking for their money and so she confronted him about it.”
Olga sighed. What a prize my cousin won, she thought to herself. She looked at her watch.
“I’ll go to the bank. Come get me when you get out of work.”
Olga knew that in New York, even a budget catering hall wedding like her cousin was having could set a couple back forty, fifty, sixty thousand dollars. Olga also knew, of course, that the venue couldn’t possibly be the last payment Mabel had to make. Hair and makeup, the DJ, and who knew who else was owed their final balance on the wedding day. To say nothing of tips, which they all expected （and deserved）。 She knew Mabel had paid for her honeymoon, plus first, last, and security on her new apartment in Bay Shore, plus all the deposits on all the vendors. And yes, while her cousin did have a decent job at Con Ed, she also had a spending problem and, Olga knew, wasted too much time at the slots when she’d go to the casinos to see freestyle shows. Which was, by matter of fact, where Mabel had met Julio in the first place. He was working as a bouncer for these nostalgia showcases in Atlantic City; one-hit wonders of the dance genre would perform for the people who loved them. Mabel was, by all accounts, an excellent dancer who commanded attention on the dance floor. So, when Julio came out to get Timmy T to cede the stage for Judy Torres, he spotted Mabel immediately. According to Mabel, they locked eyes from across the room and it was over. It was also over for Julio and that particular gig. Timmy T went into his third reprisal of “One More Try” and Judy, known to be a bit of a diva, complained to the promoter that he had eaten into her stage time. The job went poof, but a relationship blossomed.