Mom’s eyes narrow in suspicion. She places her hands at her hips.“¿Qué le hiciste?”
I don’t have the energy to pretend, but I also don’t have it in me to tell her either.
“Daniel,”she says in a stern Spanish voice.“Qué pasó?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, exhaling a breath through my nose.“Nada, nomás que soy un idiota.”
She slaps my shoulder hard. “Don’t call yourself that. What happened?”
I could tell her but then we’d have to talk about Adrian, and I don’t want to do that. She’ll get worried, Dad will hear, and we’ll end up in the same bullshit cycle. I can’t deal with either one of them and their looks of disappointment and grief. I just can’t.
I side-eye the spot Josie was just at, and guilt unwinds in my stomach. It rises to my head, making it hurt. I deserve that.
“¿Te gusta ella?”
My head jerks and my heart stops. “What? I—we’re friends and I live with her.”
She cocks her head to the side, expression impatient. “We’re still going to talk about that by the way. I can’t believe I had to hear it from your sister. But that’s not what I asked you.”
“Please don’t do that.” I groan. “Stop romanticizing things.”
“You can lie to whoever you want but I’m your mom. I know you better.” She pinches my chin and tugs my head downward to her eye level.“Te gusta?”
“Mamá, por Dios es mi?—”
“Tell me the truth,” she incessantly demands.
“I’ve only known her for six weeks.”
“Your father knew me for a week and knew I was the one.”
“Yeah, well this is different,” I retort and attempt to pull my head back, but she has a strong grip on my chin.
“She’s really pretty.”
She is, she really fucking is. “Mom, please stop. We’re friends and roommates.”
“You didn’t deny it.” She lets go and places her hands back on her hips. “I don’t know what you did to her, but you better go make things right.” She flicks her hand as if saying that I need to leave now.
But I don’t walk away. I stay in my spot and cave a little. “How did Dad know?”
Her eyes widen in disbelief before she recovers. She knows what I mean by that. “Why don’t you ask him.”
My gaze jumps to the food truck and linger for a moment, but I snap out of it and shake my head. “No, you know it’s not going to end well. I should go find her.”
She wraps her arms around me and releases a debilitated sigh. “You know, he loves you very much. He’s just having a hard time.”
I hug her back, feeling the knot in my throat. “Don’t lie, and we’ve all had a hard time.”
“He does. He’s just?—”
“Please stop making excuses.” I let go, feeling angry. “I lost him too,” I grit, aggravated. “I was there and I’m paying for it every day. He knows that and doesn’t care and you keep making excuses for him.”
“Daniel—”
I step back, hating the grief-stricken look on her face and the way her eyes glass over. Dammit, I should’ve kept my mouth shut. “I’m sorry, I-I’m really sorry. I should go.”
She offers me a small smile. “I love you. Don’t forget that, okay?
