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Saturday morning, Nunie wakes up to the sound of Where Do Broken Hearts Go by Whitney Houston blasting in the apartment. She wakes with a groan, stretching her body out in her bed before she sits up. She looks over at the standing mirror her abuelito managed to buy her for ten dollars—it's scratched to hell and still a bit dirty despite the amount of times Nunie sprayed it down in Windex and wiped it, but she appreciated the thought nonetheless. Stuck on the edge of her mirror is the sonogram photo Dr. Davis had printed out for her yesterday—they'd gotten two copies, one for Nunie and one for her abuelita at the old lady's insistence.
Nunie gets up from her bed, rubbing her eyes to try to get rid of the tired haze in them as she pads over to her mirror, looking closely at the sonogram picture. Nunie can't really make out much—it kind of looks like an oblong blob, but the fact that that oblong blob is inside of her makes the difference. That fact never fails to take her breath away. Nunie hasn't given much thought to her pregnancy—she hadn't wanted it—no, not at all, and Nunie was still weighing her options, but staring at the sonogram photo, Nunie couldn't help but feel a bit endeared despite all the horrors associated with it.
She supposes abortion was out—she couldn't afford it anyway, at least not now, which left her with keeping it or giving it up for adoption.
She needs more time to think it over.
Nunie tears her eyes away from the sonogram photo, moving towards her door. She enters the hallway, hearing the loud sound of the vacuum echoing from the living room.
She peers into the living room, seeing her abuelita up and vacuuming while her abuelito is trying to watch TV.
"¡María, por favor! Cada vez que haces esto (Maria, please! Every time you do this)," her abuelito kisses his teeth at her, trying to look around her.
"Tal vez deberías levantarte y ayudarme en lugar de mirar televisión (maybe you should get up and help me instead of watching TV)," her abuelita mumbles, tossing her abuelito a half-hearted glare. Her abuelito scoffs, murmuring under his breath.
"Buenos días (good morning)," Nunie says, announcing herself, catching their attention.
"Buenos días (good morning), mija."
"Buenos días (good morning)."
Her grandparents echo and Nunie smiles as her abuelita hobbles over, unplugging the vacuum. The old radio is still playing old school music, and she can faintly hear the sound coming from the kitchen.
"¿Necesitas ayuda para limpiar (do you need help cleaning)?" Nunie asks her abuelita who's wrapping up the vacuum cord in fast fashion.
"Oh por favor. Gracias, cariña. Simplemente barra la cocina y limpie el baño en el pasillo, ya casi termino (Oh, please. Thank you, baby. Just sweep the kitchen and clean the bathroom in the hallway, I'm almost done)." Her abuelita says with a gracious sigh. "I woke up really early this morning—I bought your v-veeta—mins?" She sounds out, tripping over the word. "They're on the table in the kitchen, mija."
