𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 | 𝐥𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐞 𝐞𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞

Chapter 26. Through Hurricanes

The walk back would've been silent if it weren't for the fact that Señora Pepa was beyond repair, furious at my family, with Felix doing his best to try to keep her from worrying about things she can't control. Still, clouds loomed over us.

This is entirely my fault. I've caused this, all this commotion and drama is the result of my selfishness.

"I'm sorry, Señora," I tried to apologize.

"It's not your fault you were born to someone so terrible." Pepa rolled her eyes, her arms crossed in anger as we walked. The clouds over her head swarmed like vultures, though they were kept at bay.

"Aye, Mama, we can't do anything about it." Camilo told her, looking at his mother with soulful eyes.

"But it's not right!" Pepa exclaimed, seeming to stomp her foot as we walked, her curls springing upwards.

"So? We're used to seeing nice people all the time. Just use this to remember what outsiders are like." Felix spoke serenely, a hand on his wife's shoulder.

"They can't all be like that! Y/N is perfectly nice!" Pepa shot back.

"There are a lot of nice people outside. My family just has a hard time talking about things," I tried to explain.

Camilo spoke up, "A hard time? She didn't even stutter to tell you she's going to tell everyone back home you're dead."

"I don't want to talk about it." I sighed.

"Maybe you're the one with the hard time talking, and you let them push you around." Felix suggested.

"Well, what can I do about that?" I asked, knowing I'd roll my eyes if he weren't an adult and that weren't disrespectful.

"Nothing, just be glad you're staying here and the guest room's open for you." Pepa said. "We can figure this out. We'll talk to Mama and she'll see. She didn't like your Abuela anyway."

"And the nerve of that woman to call me a Bruja... as if! We have a priest here! We have a chapel! Your family prays to spirits!" She continuing, finding new and improved ways to tell me how terrible they were.

"Mama! You can't say that," Camilo interjected

Pepa seemed shocked that her son would dare to correct her, but she quickly explained; "What? There's nothing wrong with that, you know, but you know what they say about glass houses..."

Of course I know what they say about glass houses. But I won't speak of it. Or I won't talk about Bruno, to say. Bruno was ostracized from the same family who wasn't willing to let that happen to someone else. The same woman that stood ground for me, to my own mother, would shun her brother for predicting the future.

I need to apologize to him. I need to tell Bruno I'm sorry. What for, I can't say, but the guilt eats a hole in my stomach that can't be patched. As if I was stealing compassion that he never received, and he deserved it more, seeing as how he's from the family. It's this reflectivity that I feel is a curse some days, that I know will eat me up inside. The way some things can only be seen when you step back, and how I can never seem to step back in to these loops as soon as I've left.

That night we returned to Casita. I made futile attempts to sleep alone in the guest bedroom. No company, no warmth, no solace. Only the murmur of my own somewhat erratic breathing and the occasional sound of light breeze against the home's siding. Tossing and turning under the light covers, wishing I would set only myself on fire so I could disappear and the ashes in my place would be nothing more than subtle dust, that they could wipe away without a memory of that needy little girl from the north.

But that won't happen. If I try to destroy myself, I'll take everyone down with me. I don't want that. I don't want anyone hurt at all, only myself. I sighed, looking towards my hands. They weren't so womanly now; looking calloused like a boy who'd just begun to work the fields. It seemed as though their usual color had a grey tint to it, as if even the air around me was displeased with my actions.

I held them together, and tried to spark the tiniest open flame in my hands. My eyes seemed to close themselves in concentration of keeping this flame; and I whispered;

Can tomorrow be better?

We all know it won't but I'll keep asking, begging anyone who'll listen, any spirit or god or star fizzling in the sky to answer this meager request.