Gloria sits on the blue bench, not far off from when she was here for the barbecue on the Fourth. She looks over at the stretch of grass as if she can see the memory playing out before her, like ghosts stuck in the past: Gloria’s two sisters relaxing with sangria on lawn chairs; Pazito playing catch with his older cousins; Frankie working the grill, but only because Rolando was originally on cooking duty and Frankie just had to show him up; and Gloria herself on the picnic blanket, hugging her knees and daydreaming about how freeing this gathering would feel if only there were one fewer person.
She returns to the present, to the reality where Frankie indeed isn’t here at the park.
Where Gloria is alone with Rolando.
“I’m sorry to hear about Death-Cast,” Gloria says.
“Don’t be. I’m really proud of myself for quitting.”
“In what way?”
“Instead of waiting for the day when an operator calls to tell me I’m going to die, I already understand how important it is to live while I can.”
Gloria loves that insight.
Life shouldn’t be about to end before someone begins living.
“That’s really admirable,” she says, watching her son fearlessly scale the jungle gym, watching her son live like he’s going to forever.
“Don’t you think you should do the same?” Rolando asks.
“Do what?” Gloria asks.
“To live while you can.”
“I am,” Gloria says.
“No offense, Glo, but I don’t think you are.”
He hasn’t used her nickname in ages, and Gloria’s heart skips a beat. “What do you mean I’m not living?”
“Tell me what your life looks like—and not what you do for Pazito.”
Everything that Gloria can think of that doesn’t involve her son feels too small, even if it brings her joy. Things like cooking with her mother’s recipe for garlic maduros and watching legal dramas and soaking in the tub with only a lit candle alive in the dark bathroom.
“Raising a child should count,” Gloria says. “That makes me happy.”
“It does, but . . .” Rolando shifts his knee toward hers. “But what are you going to do when Paz has grown up? How are you going to spend your days?”
Sadly, Gloria hasn’t planned for life without her son. She doesn’t say anything because she has nothing to say and doesn’t want to lie. She’s lied enough in this lifetime, always pretending everything is good and well.
“Your son is important,” Rolando says, and he gently adds, “But so are you.”
This isn’t the first time Rolando has asked Gloria to think of herself, but it is the first time he’s done so with tears brimming in his brown eyes. It’s almost as if he knows something that she doesn’t, as if Death-Cast told Rolando that Gloria will be dying soon and was given the chance to deliver the news in person instead of having a stranger call her. She can’t be sure, but what Gloria does know is that Frankie has never told Gloria that she’s important. Once again, she can’t be sure, but Gloria would bet anything that her husband has never valued her life, maybe only for keeping a clean home and doing the heavy lifting with raising their son.
Gloria is important.
Gloria matters.
Gloria deserves a better life.
Feeling this in her heart, Gloria breathes deeply, like after a long day where she’s been on her feet all day and crawls under her covers for bed. But she doesn’t want to wake up to the same thing anymore. “It’s too late to change,” she says.