Cesar and I share a telepathic look for whaaaaat? Mom has never said anything against her faith, ever.
“You’re being weird, Mami . . . ,” Cesar mumbles, and I don’t blame him. I know what she’s doing, though. She’s trying to make up for what Dad did. At Cesar’s comment, her smile disappears, and she looks into his eyes all sad, giving up the charade.
“Mijo, I’ve done a lot of praying about this. And the answer is clear to me now. How can I abandon my kids when they need me most? Now that I’ve seen what can happen”—she gets all choked up—“what can happen if I don’t support you with everything I’ve got, how can I not celebrate my children to the fullest? I’m not saying screw the Bible. I’m just saying, I love you, both of you, and that’s never going to change. The Bible also says to love everyone, and not to judge. And I believe God has a place in heaven for everyone with a good heart.” She taps both of us on our chests.
I roll my eyes because it’s so cheesy, but it still makes me tear up. I glance at Cesar and see that he’s already accepted her answer and is stuffing his face with pan dulce. I can’t let Mom’s effort go to waste, so I stuff my face, too.
Happy times are a little hard to maintain when your brother is on watch. We all have to sleep with our doors open, just in case. Since my room is right by Cesar’s, Mom wanted to switch with me to keep a better eye on him, but I refused. I like my room, and I imagine Cesar would rather have me lurking than Mami. Plus, I want to be there for him if he needs anything.
He’s starting therapy soon, and hopefully that will help, but he doesn’t seem too excited about it. Mami offered for me to go to therapy, too, but I don’t think I’m ready for that yet. Cesar takes his antidepressants from a daily counter, so me and Mom can see if he’s taking them and make sure he doesn’t take too many. I don’t even know where Mom keeps the pill bottle. She’s the only one who refills the counter. I don’t like feeling like I’m spying on Cesar, but it has to be done. Better to spy than to lose him.
I wake up early to the sound of an upbeat ranchera, then the smell of eggs and bacon. Mom never cooks breakfast for us on weekdays, with the exception of Cesar’s game days, and this isn’t her usual music. I follow my nose out into the hallway, and Cesar is already peeking out of his room. We wander into the kitchen, but Mom isn’t in there. It’s Do?a Violeta. Her feet shift with the music as she flips bacon on the comal. She shushes us before we get a chance to make a noise.
“Your mom had a long night. Let her sleep before work, okay?”
Cesar and I rush into a tight hug.
“I missed you, Do?a,” I say, even though it hasn’t been that long since we’ve seen her. I missed this. This is the Do?a Violeta I know. Mom probably told her about what happened with Cesar. Maybe she needed someone to take care of, like she used to.
“Are you okay?” Cesar asks her. We haven’t seen her leave her porch since her husband’s funeral. She gives us a sad smile.
“Don’t worry about me, mijo. Let me take care of you for a few days.” She kisses his forehead and gets back to making breakfast.
Miracles like this only happen in what feels like the darkest moments. Do?a Violeta stays home with Cesar so my mom doesn’t have to take time off work and risk getting fired. Cesar wasn’t ready to go back to school right away, and Mom didn’t want to force him, so Do?a Violeta came through. No matter what happens, my brother won’t be alone.
On Saturday I would rather stay home with Cesar and work from there, but he would rather have the laptop than my company, so I leave to work at Bo’s house to use their extra computer. I don’t want to make Cesar feel babied, especially since his childhood babysitter is already tending to his every need. Mom lets me take the car for work, and she stays with him and Do?a Violeta while I’m gone.
I have to admit I have really missed Rick and Emma. Work goes by a lot quicker when I’m here, too. On the downside, I’m a little less productive.