The Divorcee Murder Club

Epilogue ~ Part One

We pull into a gas station to buy smokes, and it’s a bit embarrassing that Angie has to hand me her card since I don’t have any of my possessions or money yet—just the clothes on my back. When I come back to the car, it’s like I’ve walked in on a conversation I wasn’t supposed to hear because Angie quickly readjusts herself in her seat to retake the wheel, and Ana smiles like she’s guilty of something, while David fusses with the balloons. 

But I’m too tired and overwhelmed by the bustle of the city to question them. Angie shifts the gear into drive, and we exit the gas station for the final stretch home. 

As we enter Golden Gate Park, I’m relieved to find it the same with its lush greenery and trees that sway in the breeze, like arms waving and cheering at my arrival. I roll down the window and inhale a deep breath. I can almost taste the salt from the ocean that isn’t too far from here. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll walk over there and let the frigid waves lap at my feet before checking in with my parole officer.

The mansion’s security gate rolls open as we pull up, and my heartbeats go from calm to a frantic staccato in seconds. Angie tosses her keys at one of the guards, and he catches it mid-air before hopping into the car to park it in the garage. Another guard drives us up the path in a golf cart to the house, and the rose garden whips by like time never stopped. Gardeners prune the bushes and weed whack the edges, but some stop to tip their wide-brimmed hats at me.

When we reach the front steps,  memories I’ve tried to suppress flood to the forefront, like seeing Augusta’s brain explode right in front of me. Sometimes, I still see it in my dreams, and I wake up thinking I can feel her warm blood on my face.

Was she truly carrying my baby at the time?

I guess I’ll never know.

The last time I climbed up the mansion steps, it was for the gala, and now the place is different yet the same. A guard calls me Jefe, but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being referred to as Boss. While I was gone, Angie called the shots on the mansion's renovations. So she’s the real boss, and she ressusetsted this place after so much tragedy and betrayal turned it dull and dreary. The shades of yellow on the exterior remind me of a sunflower in a field standing proudly amongst the many green trees. Coincidentally, Angie renamed the property The Sunshine Estate of Golden Gate Park.

And I like it.

“Welcome back, boss,” two security guards say before opening the massive front doors. 

I’m only a few steps in when a boisterous SURPRISE has me jumping from my flesh as friends and family emerge from different corners. A giant Welcome Home banner unfolds from the ceiling with confetti raining down like we’re at a parade, and my mom’s new dog comes charging at me and bites my ankles. 

“Tito!” she scolds.

Angie sides up to me with a sympathetic half-smile. “I’m sorry. A party seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“It’s fine.” I shake my head and engulf my mom, who has tears in her eyes. “You look great, Ma.”

She holds my face, studying every curve and line. “I’m so glad you’re home, Miguelito. It’s finally over.”

“Me too.” I look around. “And Steve?”

“He’s in the kitchen harassing the caterer. He wants to make sure they cook his steak medium-rare.” She shakes her head.

“How’s his cancer?”

“It’s fine,” she sighs. “He’s stubborn and strong. He’ll beat it.”

“Just remember, whatever he needs, I’ve got it covered.”

“We’re fine, Mijo. Steve has great health coverage through his retirement pension.”