“Whassss…” I try to speak. My tongue and throat are frozen, too.
“Don’t try to speak, Lina,” the man unbuckles his pants. “We need to save that pretty mouth for filthier things.”
I suck in a breath and sit up straight in my bed, clutching my throat. I glance around the unfamiliar room and try to slow my heart rate. Reality washes back over me, and I see that I’m safely in my parents’ guest room. Soft sunlight is peeking through the soothing gray drapes on the windows. I identify my open suitcase on a nearby dresser.
Breathe.In through my nose, two, three. Out through my mouth, two, three.
I go through my breathing exercises at least twenty times until I feel like I can get out of bed and face the day.
I reach for the glass of water on the nightstand, but my hand is still too unsteady to get a grip on it, and the glass crashes to the hardwood floor, splintering into a bazillion pieces.
“Cocksucker!”
I’m wide awake now, with a mission to clean up the mess before Mama and Papa come in.
“Mija?”
Shit. Too late for that.
“Mija, what’s going on?” Papa is standing in the doorway with a shotgun.
I put my hands on my hips. “Papa, what did you think was happening that you needed a shotgun? Isn’t this an ultra-secure retirement village?”
“Yes, but you never know what sort of riff-raff will get in through the gates,” Papa lowers the shotgun to point at the floor.
Mama appears behind him, hastily tying her robe. “What happened?”
I move toward the door. “It’s nothing. I accidentally broke my water glass. Let me get a broom so I can clean this up.”
“Nonsense,” Mama swats my hands. “I’ll get it.”
She heads back to the utility room.
“I thought I heard swearing in here,” Papa scowls at me. “I thought foul-mouthed hooligans were invading us. That is why I appeared with my trusty shotgun.”
I roll my eyes. “That was me, Papa.”
He gives me a pained smile. “I hope you’re not going to use that language at your job interview,Mija.”
I sigh. “No, Papa. I was startled. When I get startled, sometimes I cuss.”
“Maybe you should work on that,” Papa nods. “It might help with your dating situation.”
“Mi Amor, give our daughter a break,” Mama nudges Papa aside as she enters the guest room and begins sweeping. “She shouldn’t change herself to get a man. She’s perfect just the way she is.”
I eye the medication on the nightstand. “I think ‘perfect’ is a bit of a stretch.”
Mama stands up with a dustpan full of glass. “Mija! You’re perfect just the way you are. And you’re going to be perfect for your soulmate, just like Lucio and Wysdom were for each other. Luis, get the vacuum for the smaller bits.”
Papa disappears.
Mama pulls me to the glass-free side of the bed. “Mija, I know people aren’t perfect. What I’m talking about is finding the perfect person for you. The man who lights your soul on fire. The man who you can’t wait to build a family with.”
“Mama, I’m 46. Pretty sure the baby-making factory shut down for health-code violations,” I gesture to my now well-tended lady garden.
She nudges me with her shoulder. “Nonsense. What happened to that speech you made last night about family is what you make of it? You don’t need to give birth to children to love them like your own. Look at Ruston and Sienna.”
I smile. Those two little redheads look like they came out of Wysdom’s lady garden, but they were adopted.
