You Should Have Been Nicer to My Mom, page 24
Manuel stroked his daughter’s cheek, speaking as fast as the rain came down. The threats became promises, the curses bent back to prayers. And when all was said and done, his words became silence. Manuel simply sat there, quietly cradling his daughter.
Xiomara’s stomach churned, and she thought of the sancocho Wanda made for dinner. The last thing she had ever given her cousin, save for the new wounds that throbbed until she saw stars. Suddenly, Xiomara was being lifted up. Her body was removed from the ground momentarily before she was hurled back down, shoulder hitting the softened ground first. The perpetrator wrapped their hand into Xiomara’s hair, tightening at the root and using the leverage to slam her head repeatedly.
Xiomara’s vision knocked back and forth between the sky and the ground. When lightning struck with just enough light, she miraculously caught sight of Marisa’s contorted expression of anger and hatred.
“Marisa, dejale!” Aury screeched. But whether she simply yelled it or could not stop Marisa, the attacks did not cease, and Xiomara knew this much:
Her aunt meant to kill her.
That knowledge forced her into a second wind. Xiomara fought back, thrashing against her aunt, hooking her fingers into the side of the woman’s face and rearing back for a powerful kick. Marisa’s grip released her hair immediately. Xiomara ragdolled for a moment, then she scrambled backward, nearly as far Marcus’s body.
Aury helped Marisa to her feet, and the two faced their niece.
“Your own cousin . . . ?” one of them muttered. Xiomara couldn’t ascertain who when the ground still felt like it was swaying underneath her.
“How could you kill your own cousin with Papi’s gun?” It sounded like Marisa. Xiomara looked in the direction of the silhouette most shaped like her and uncorked her rage.
“She attacked me with a hammer!” she screamed. “She tried to kill me! All of you are!” What else was there to say? Xiomara didn’t want to die. She had already died once and come back miraculously—was that such a sin? Was this entire night now an exercise in repenting? What an Old Testament consequence for the crime of wanting to live.
Xiomara’s family met her anguished cries with uncaring silence. The only sound, other than the merciless weather, came from Manuel’s slopping loafers. He slid an arm underneath Wanda’s legs but could barely lift her more than an inch before sinking in the muck. Death weighed extra.
“Help me bring her inside . . .” He choked, then screamed when his sisters did not move. “Help me!”
This jolted them out of their stupor. Aury and Marisa crowded around Wanda, lifting her on all sides and shuffling indoors. Xiomara watched them, still shivering and drenched to the bone, with aches that proved to be more than what the biting cold could numb.
“Bring her inside!” Manuel’s voice boomed from indoors. A moment later, a figure emerged from the door. Xiomara could tell instantly from the lanky frame that it was Rafael. He stepped out under the arch and faced her, but said nothing. He only kept his distance, while stewing in contemplation.
“I d-d-didn’t sh-shoot her.” Xiomara’s teeth chattered. But Rafael had to know that already. After all, he was the one who’d spent all day rummaging around the storage room, hiding his actions from anyone who might have peeked in on him. He’d used the gun once—Papi Ramon had said it himself. Rafael knew where it was and had found it at the last second.
And then he shot Wanda, thinking it was me. Rafael was just as untrustworthy as his older sisters. Sick of the way her ass felt in the mud, Xiomara stood up slowly, with all the clumsiness of a newborn doe.
Maybe Bambi wasn’t actually clumsy. The thought forced itself into her head. Maybe Bambi was just in a lot of pain. What a stupid thing to think about at this moment, but it was all she could do to keep her mind off the immense fireworks-like pain that sparked in damn near every joint in her body. If something wasn’t broken, it sure as fuck was strained, sprained, or fractured.
“Are you okay?”
Xiomara felt feral as she looked to Rafael. Do I fucking look okay? Her ex had died horribly in front of her and her cousin had beaten the dog shit out of her. No one was worried about how far they were taking this—they didn’t have to care. Xiomara was her mother’s daughter—which made her expendable.
“Unfortunately for you, I’m still alive.”
Despite his face being shrouded in darkness, Rafael’s nervousness came through in the way he shifted on his feet. “What do you mean—”
“What did you do to Mami’s car?” Xiomara could no longer hold back. She sounded less like herself and more like a croaking frog. “Before Mami’s accident. You were trying to fix something, right? How did you mess that up?”
Rafael didn’t speak. His silhouette froze at the accusation.
When lightning flashed, Xiomara caught sight of something glimmering from the corner of her eye. She turned away from Rafael, taking a moment to scan the area for a moment until she saw it—the half-submerged hammer. Whether it was because the darkness provided enough cover or because Wanda’s demise provided enough distraction, Xiomara’s relatives had completely missed the actual weapon used during their skirmish.
She turned away from it, hoping that Rafael hadn’t seen it. I need that hammer. If he was going to have a gun, Xiomara wanted something just as sturdy to defend herself. She would just have to play it safe.
“Come inside. You know, when you’re ready,” Rafael said. There was an extended pause. His feet scuffled against the driest part of the ground and then slipped as he entered the home. Rafael cursed under his breath, but from then on, Xiomara was alone. She crouched quickly, wincing from the abrupt movement, and grabbed the hammer. She tucked it in the waistband of her jeans, sliding it horizontal so it didn’t make too much of a shape, and tightened her cardigan around her.
When she turned around, she was suddenly faced with a bright light being held by Yaritza. The woman’s silhouette had its arms crossed with a phone in hand and stood tall. Xiomara’s heart pounded; had her cousin seen the hammer?
“You coming?” Yaritza asked. Her tone suggested she hadn’t. She almost sounded bored.
“I thought you got attacked earlier,” Xiomara said.
“You don’t sound all that concerned.”
“I’m not,” she admitted. Yaritza made a sound like a breathy laugh, delighted to see her cousin with some bite in her. “Naomi went into Papi Ramon’s room. I thought it was weird and followed her.”
Xiomara knew she would. “You started poking around.” She could guess what happened next. The demon attacked, protecting whatever it was Yaritza stole. That was all the distraction Xiomara had needed to escape her mother’s room.
Yaritza’s light shook, nearly blinding Xiomara.
“What did it look like?” she asked.
“I didn’t get a good look at it,” Yaritza said. Lied. “But you should see what it did to Naomi.”
Xiomara’s heart plummeted. She clumsily shambled her way into the house, pushing past Yaritza and climbing the stairs. Papi Ramon’s bedroom was closed. Before her hand could reach the knob, Xiomara’s shoulder was gripped by a strong hand and she was dragged through the long dark hallway and into Rafael’s old room. Cell phones with flashlights provided just enough light for her to see Marisa’s scowling expression as she forced Xiomara into a seat. “Sit. Until we figure out what to do with you.”
“Let go of me!” She struggled. “I need to see Naomi!”
“There’s no need to be so rough.” Rafael sighed, weary. “We need to calm down . . .”
“Don’t tell us to calm down!” She stabbed a finger into the air. “With everything she’s done, how can you still be on her side?”
“We don’t know what happened between them!” Rafael waved her question off.
“My daughter . . .” Manuel finally spoke. The room stilled, having not heard Manuel say a word since yelling for someone to bring Xiomara inside. “. . . is dead.”
He sat on the bed like he was still cradling Wanda, fingers splayed upward while down on his lap. Manuel didn’t look up. “So I should decide what we do.”
“Where’s Naomi?” Xiomara asked. “What happened to her?”
Like always, Xiomara’s question went unanswered.
“You should be more worried about yourself,” Yaritza muttered, her haunted expression sharpened by the insufficient light. Xiomara gritted her teeth, arms folded over the hammer in her waistband. Part of her wanted to play it safe; the other part wanted to go out swinging.
“Why?” Xiomara scoffed. “Because your dad has the gun that he used to kill Wanda?”
The room had the stillness of an atomic bomb—and then, anarchy. “You did what—” Marisa shouted.
“That’s a lie!” Rafael defended, waving his arms. “I didn’t kill anyone! I didn’t kill Wanda!”
Xiomara jumped to her feet. “Liar! I heard it in your tape! I heard it! Papi Ramon said you used his gun!” It might have been a leap to suggest that Rafael shot Wanda—but who else would even have knowledge of the weapon existing in Papi Ramon’s home? In all the years Xiomara had visited, she’d never once heard mention of her grandfather owning a firearm. The thought alone solidified her gut feeling.
“There’s a gun?” Naomi was at the doorway, a hand pressed to her cheek. No, not just a hand—a wad of paper towels was pressed to her cheek. Relief fell on Xiomara like a balm.
“You’re okay . . .”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Naomi grumbled, crossing the room to Henry. Even injured, she was tasked with cleaning his wounds. If Naomi was at all concerned about hearing someone in the house had a gun, she didn’t show it. “Do we all need to be in this little room? It’s too hot to be all crowded like this.”
“How is Henry doing?” Manuel asked. Xiomara could only see Naomi’s figure swapping towels.
“Fine, if he beats this infection.”
“An infection!” Marisa exclaimed. “So give him antibiotics—” she insisted.
“We don’t have any antibiotics!” Naomi snapped. “Henry needs to see a real doctor—or an ambulance! If you can’t magically bring an ambulance here, this is all I can do for him.”
Once again, the room dropped into silence. The aunts stared at the uncles and vice versa. The cousins avoided looking at one another altogether.
Eventually, Marisa took a half step toward Xiomara and slapped her, clear across the temple. Xiomara felt a light crack in her neck as her head swam. Rafael immediately jumped between Xiomara and his sister.
“You better pray that Henry doesn’t die next!” Marisa said.
“Stop!” Rafael forced her back. “You don’t see how bad she’s hurt?”
“That’s her fault. Why are you defending her?”
Xiomara should have known this was going to happen. None of them were going to listen to her. They were all going to go in circles, blaming her for every misfortune of the night. She should’ve escaped when she had the chance.
The hammer pressed against her skin had warmed to her touch. How long would it take her whip it out and beat anyone who came close to her? It would force Rafael to expose himself as the true gunman, but after that, all bets were off. The family still didn’t trust Xiomara. For all she knew, they could kill her anyway and make excuses for him. She needed another distraction.
Xiomara cleared her throat and said, “Think about it. Was Rafael alone when it happened?”
“We were all together,” Marisa insisted, though Xiomara sensed it was a lie.
“Wanda was shot from behind and it hit her shoulder,” she repeated. “The bullet didn’t come out from the other side, so it probably traveled from an angle. The person who shot her was upstairs.”
She was bullshitting. God, Xiomara was bullshitting so hard—she’d taken one course on forensic science and dropped out halfway through when it was taking her time away from her actual computer science major requirements. What the hell did she know about the bullet trajectory of a gun? Nothing, not a goddamn thing.
She just needed to sound like she knew what she was talking about, and with her background, at least one person would be liable to believe her. All she needed was one.
“Wouldn’t we have heard a gunshot?” Yaritza asked, the one question that threw Xiomara for a loop, but she recovered fast.
“Not if you thought it was just part of the thunder.” Xiomara held her cousin’s stare. If she so much as blinked suspiciously, Yaritza would call her bluff. She stared unflinchingly, even as the flashlight gave her a headache.
Yaritza turned to the room. “Were we all together when Wanda went downstairs?”
“Yes,” Aury answered first, hand coming up to scratch her nose. Xiomara wondered, was it just her imagination or was the motion a cover for lying? Unfortunately, she didn’t have time to hedge her bets.
She made a quick calculation and decided to play into her injuries. Dropping her head on her lap, she let out a low, painful groan and snuck a hand under her cardigan.
“I didn’t leave until after Manuel left.” Marisa’s alibi came out like a biting accusation. “And Manuel only went downstairs to get his daughter.”
“And I stayed here with Henry until I heard all of you scream.” Yaritza looked to Naomi, and the home aide cursed under her breath. “Where were you, Naomi?”
“Trying to stop bleeding,” she answered.
Yaritza stepped in front of the door. “You were outside of this room for a while.” Xiomara imagined it was to cut Naomi off if the woman decided to run.
Xiomara’s fingers finally grazed the handle. She knew that if she wanted to fully grip it, she would need to stand. How fast could she pull it out?
“Ha!” Naomi laughed, closing the gap between her and Yaritza. “You mean when I went to find clean towels because the rest of you are too pussy to get them yourselves?”
Yaritza didn’t budge. “You’re cursing a lot for someone who’s supposedly innocent.”
“And you’re getting on my last nerve for someone who can’t fight.”
Push her, Xiomara begged. All she needed was one push. She looked up and noticed Aury turned to her. Her aunt asked, “Xiomara, what are you doing?”
Now. Filled with adrenaline, Xiomara barely felt her nails digging into her skin when grabbing the hammer.
“She’s got the gun!” Marisa screamed. She jumped onto Xiomara, forcing her to stumble back over the chair. They crashed onto the floor just as Xiomara wrenched the hammer free. Yaritza had already bolted out the door. Naomi pressed her back into the wall.
Xiomara swung wide, the claw end of the hammer catching onto Marisa’s elbow. Her aunt’s pitched scream shot through Xiomara’s ears. She slammed a kick into Marisa’s side, putting more distance between them.
A powerful blast sounded, sharpening all of Xiomara’s pain at once. She curled into herself, half expecting another blast to come, half expecting to feel something leak out of her as a numbing darkness took over.
Neither came. All she heard was ragged breathing and the soft click of a gun.
Marisa gasped. “It was you? You . . . shot Wanda?”
“I didn’t mean to!” Aury’s voice cracked. “I didn’t mean to—I—I was using the bathroom, and when I looked out the window, I saw Wanda fighting someone. I thought . . . I thought . . .”
She meant to kill me, Xiomara thought. Aury pointed the gun at her. It shook in her hands, filling Xiomara with more fear than if it had been Marisa holding it.
“Where did you get that?” Rafael asked sternly. “Where did you get that?!”
“It was in Papi’s safe!” she blurted. “When the will said to remember his hiding places—I remembered he had one hidden, and I . . .”
Xiomara looked up at a crack in the ceiling where the bullet had gone in. Rafael approached Aury slowly, arm outstretched and only inches from his sister’s shoulder.
“Aury.” Rafael spoke calmly. “Aury, look at me. Put down the gun.”
The bed squeaked as Manuel came to his feet.
“You killed my daughter . . . ?”
Aury spun around to face Manuel before she realized her mistake and put the gun back on Xiomara. Marisa ducked again, as though expecting the gun to go off again. But Manuel did not flinch. His pale face wore a glassy half-apocalyptic expression. Xiomara had never seen him so emotionally distraught.
“Manito . . .” Aury’s voice broke. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I thought it was her, okay? I couldn’t see that well. I thought it was Xiomara.” The barrel shook again in her direction; Xiomara leaned just enough to obscure the hammer in her hand behind her while Naomi attempted to sidestep out of the door. The floor whined, and Aury’s head snapped back between the two of them.
“Stop!” she ordered. “Don’t move. I’ll shoot you, I really will.” Her reddened eyes watered. Aury cried so much today that the mascara lines were diluted to nearly nothing.
Naomi slowly put her hands up. “Whoa, maybe we should all just calm down.”
Rafael agreed. “Aury, put down the gun.”
Aury’s breath quickened. “Why? Don’t you trust me?” Her head turned on a swivel, and she realized she was surrounded on all sides. Panic washed over Aury, and suddenly she was spinning, her head and gun pointing in the same direction. The abrupt movement pushed nearly everyone back. Except for Manuel.
He stepped forward. “You did it on purpose, didn’t you?”
“No!” Aury yelled, turning to him. Manuel was close enough to feel the barrel against the flat of his chest. Both Marisa’s and Rafael’s jaws fell, and they froze. Xiomara looked to the door to her left. Could she get down the hall in time before a stray bullet caught her? Or should she bait Aury into wasting bullets?
