You Should Have Been Nicer to My Mom, page 6
“What are you talking about?” Xiomara cut her off.
Yaritza looked up from her phone, a wry smile on her lips and a furrowed brow like she was pleasantly surprised her cousin couldn’t keep up. “I’m trying to narrow down who the demon is. Think about it—who in the family don’t have children?”
That was an easy one. The entire last generation—Henry, Wanda, Xiomara, and Yaritza, along with their aunts, Marisa and Aury. That didn’t exactly narrow the list down by much.
“Let’s just hold on for a second . . .” Xiomara pinched the bridge of her nose. It was a little startling how eager her cousin was to join in the whole demon hunt. Xiomara might have even considered that Yaritza was the demon and just trying to get suspicion off herself. But that would’ve been too easy, and demons were supposed to be craftier than that. “Can we start with something a little simpler?”
“Like what?”
“That Papi Ramon might have been a little . . . unwell when he wrote that will.”
“What?” Yaritza’s smile fell into a flat line.
“Just think about it. We’re standing here talking about demons.”
“Yes . . .”
“Well, Naomi just told me about how paranoid he got in the last couple of years. Wouldn’t let her in the house unless she proved who she was.” Xiomara’s throat constricted. She couldn’t tell if she was telling a lie or the truth about Papi Ramon’s mental capabilities. Sure, he might have been a little out of his mind, but was it so bad he manufactured the threat of a demon in his family?
“But . . . wouldn’t we have known?” Concern colored Yaritza’s face, and she lowered her phone as she held Xiomara’s stare.
Guilt growing, Xiomara turned away from her as she dealt the final blow. “I don’t think we would have. I mean, when was the last time any of us visited him?”
When was the last time I visited?
Her cousin was stunned. Xiomara could practically hear her face twist in hurt as she considered the implication. Were they awful grandchildren? Would any of this have happened if they’d paid more attention to Papi Ramon? Spent more time with him? Would they be arguing about a past will written years ago if they had just taken a few hours out of their day to see how he was doing?
Yaritza’s heels scuffed the floor as she went back to rejoin the family.
* * *
Minutes later, Naomi’s head poked out of the library and she locked eyes with Xiomara.
“Did Mark say anything yet?” Xiomara asked. The two lingered by the doorway, facing the dining room. Manuel was still pacing, and Aury was talking Rafael’s ear off. Marisa stood off in the corner, her cell phone pressed against her ear. She laughed loudly, as if trying to get everyone’s attention while they all did their best to ignore her.
“He’s still in the other bathroom,” Naomi responded. “I’m pretty sure he’s stalling. How long does it take to confirm that there’s another version of the will and have someone just read it out?”
Xiomara had to agree. If he was stalling, she could only imagine the reason was not good.
If we don’t do the will reading today, do I have to come back here again? God, she really didn’t want to. Next time, Papi might really decide to accompany her, and she didn’t have the energy to play chaperone for every conversation he’d have with this side of the family. She already knew someone would say something slick about her mother, and Xiomara would immediately crack a wine bottle over their head.
And then I’ll go to jail for manslaughter, and then Papi will have to visit me and bring me good hair conditioner and—
Xiomara shook her head. Imagining pointless hypotheticals was not a good use of her energy or time. She considered how much of her thoughts she’d already put toward the preposterous idea of there really being a demon and shook her head in disgust. Instead, she pulled out her cell phone and considered getting a rideshare driver well in advance. Was twenty minutes enough time for Mark to finally tell the family the bad news?
“Oh, there he is.” Naomi nudged Xiomara. “Come on, let’s go.”
“So?” Aury’s hopeful eyes were pinned to him. Marisa’s phone disappeared into her pocket.
Mark took a deep breath.
Uh-oh.
“Unfortunately, everyone has already left the office for the day.”
The tension in the room became desperate.
“Someone can’t go back?” Marisa asked. “How far is the office?”
Mark raised a hand. “The office is only thirty minutes away—forty-five if there’s traffic. I can go and come back quickly. Unless you’d rather we reschedule—”
“No!” Aury jumped to her feet. The rest of the room looked at her in mild shock, as if to say, damn, you really want to know what you got that bad? She ignored their judgmental looks. “I’m just saying there’s no reason to reschedule if we can just do this today.”
As if in response, the house creaked under the pressure of billowing winds. It came with the sound of static, and when Xiomara looked to the nearest window, she could see why—the earlier drizzle had turned into definitive rain.
Or a torrential downpour. Xiomara’s mouth fell. It was hard enough seeing the street from the house. Were they really going to force this man to drive through all of that?
“Just drive slow and keep your headlights on,” Aury said as if voicing everyone else’s thoughts. “This isn’t as bad as the rain in DR. We’ve driven through worse. You’ll be fine.”
Xiomara’s stomach coiled tight. She really didn’t think it was a good idea to drive in such violent weather. But the idea of having to meet her family once more gave her pause. This was supposed to be the last time she’d ever be with them. After all, unlike so many of them, she didn’t work at A-B Millennium, nor were her funds tied up in the company. She didn’t hold any official position that would force her to remain in close proximity with them. Xiomara had just graduated from college with a degree in computer science. She would rather do lowly IT support than work with anyone in her family.
Still . . . to drive in this rain? Even if everybody else in the area stayed off the road, it would only take one bad break to hydroplane into a tree. Or worse.
Xiomara sighed, common sense winning out against selfishness. “I don’t think this is a good—”
“Is it okay if I call you from the office?” Mark interrupted, the question surprising everyone.
The room erupted in affirmative sighs and murmurs.
“Naomi, go find an umbrella for him and walk him to his car,” Marisa said.
It was subtle, but Naomi’s jaw clenched for a moment. She turned to Mark and said, “Just one moment, please.”
While they went, Xiomara watched Wanda quietly head to the kitchen. She didn’t seem to be the only one who noticed, however, as Manuel also followed her with his eyes.
“Are you hungry, mija?” he called out.
“Oh, you know what would be good?” Marisa’s face relaxed into a pleasant smile. “Sancocho. Remember how Mami used to make it when it rained like this?”
The older generation made noises of affirmation. Henry nodded to himself and patted his stomach.
“Not gonna lie,” he said, “I could go for some sancocho right about now. Do we have any of the ingredients?”
“Why? Do you know how to make it?” Aury teased.
“Nah, but my sister does!” Henry pointed a thumb toward the kitchen. “Yo, Wanda! Can you make us sancocho?”
Marisa tsked audibly, fingers already dialing a number on her phone. “This is why we call you Chico.”
“Yeah, okay, just go call your boyfriend.” Henry waved her off.
“Ah!” Her face flashed with shock. “Manito, did you hear what your son said to me? You better say something to him before I do!” And then she pushed her seat back and jogged to the corner of the room, phone pressed to her ear again. Manuel, Rafael, and Aury shared a look before snickering to themselves.
The scene was playing out exactly how Xiomara had expected it to go. Henry being immature and spoiled, Marisa and Aury demanding respect at all costs, Wanda quietly keeping to herself, and Rafael just enjoying the chaotic family dynamic. Yaritza was scrolling on her phone, and Xiomara wondered if she was still thinking about what she had said by the bathroom.
“We got mail.” Naomi returned, waving an envelope.
“Ay, if it’s not the will, then we don’t care.” Aury scoffed. Naomi looked to everyone else in the room and was met with total indifference. No, not indifference. It was like she wasn’t there. Rafael and Manuel didn’t so much as spare her a passing glance. Wanda did not return from the kitchen. If Marisa didn’t need something done, then she wouldn’t even remember Naomi existed. Everyone found one reason or another to completely disregard her entire existence.
Naomi’s hand fell to her side. Guilt bloomed in Xiomara’s chest.
Once again she thought, I should have visited more often. It was easy for her to avoid the family. Naomi didn’t get that same choice. She never knew her father, and Julia died when she was eighteen. The only option she had was taking up the same job as her mother and working for Papi Ramon. Even so, the family wouldn’t acknowledge her.
Naomi pursed her lips tight and looked down at the envelope.
Xiomara held out her hand. “Who’s it from?” She flipped the envelope over twice. It was thin, with seemingly just a single page in it. And no return address.
“Huh. It just says, ‘To the Abreus.’” Xiomara’s palms grew sweaty. There was that feeling again, the need to freeze because something was watching her. Or was she already on edge because of the failed will reading?
She focused on the letter and opened it. Unfolding the page, Xiomara gasped audibly.
Sensing drama, Yaritza looked up from her phone. “What is it? What does it say?”
Xiomara twisted it around to her family. The chatter slowly stopped. Wanda returned from the kitchen and even Marisa lowered her phone.
In thick black Sharpie marker were the words:
Confess your sins, or I will confess for you.
3:37 p.m.
Lightning crackled. The room stilled. Xiomara’s eyes swept the room. What were those looks on her family’s faces? At first glance, they seemed blank. Neutral. But Xiomara knew them better than that. No sudden reaction meant they were still processing. They were thinking.
What was there to think about if they were innocent?
Was I innocent?
Xiomara thought through every mistake she’d made, every curse she’d spoken, and every lie she’d ever told. None seemed so grievous that someone would venture out to Papi Ramon’s house to leave a vaguely threatening letter.
Yet it said “To the Abreus.” Maybe this was meant for the family as a whole. Maybe it was about a bad decision the company made that impacted someone else’s life. Xiomara wasn’t sure, and it was the uncertainty that made her freeze. She didn’t know if the same could be said about the family.
Yaritza was the first to break. She let out a sputtering kind of laugh, one that sounded like she was between a snort and chuckle.
“Who wrote that?” she asked. Her amusement quickly changed the tone of the room. Henry’s eyes glazed over, and Marisa went back to her phone. Aury sneered and marched to the window, as if hoping to catch the culprit in time. Manuel went to the front door.
“Someone’s probably just trying to cause trouble.” Aury drew the curtains and caught Xiomara’s stare. “What?”
She shook her head and looked back at the envelope. “There’s no return address.” And the envelope was completely dry. How was someone able to put it in their mailbox during a downpour without it getting wet?
As if answering her question, Naomi said, “The mailman comes every day around one p.m.” Meaning it had to have been sitting there since before any of them arrived. Did someone know they would all be here for the reading of the will?
Or is this from Papi Ramon? It seemed to be related to the message in the will. Demons and sins—it didn’t take much to see the connection. But what did it mean? Did they have to confess their sins to find the demon? Xiomara chewed her bottom lip as she thought. This was all such bullshit . . . and yet it was bullshit that they’d held in their hands, twice. Something was happening, and demon or no, it was unsettling.
As was the command itself. Because if she had to get her family to confess to any number of their shortcomings or risk a ticket to hell, she might as well have begun packing the extra sunscreen.
The front door shut with a loud thud, and Manuel returned with a grumble. “We should sell this house as soon as we can.”
“We don’t even know who’s getting the house!” Aury argued.
“He’s probably leaving it for all of us,” Manuel said. “Which is why we have to sell it. It’s a bad idea for people to know where we are.”
“Ay, look at the preacher not wanting people to find him.” Aury wrinkled her nose in disgust. “That’s not very Christian of you.”
“My flock can find me whenever they need—”
“Your flock?” Aury laughed. “Look who’s all high and mighty—”
Tuning out the rest of their argument, Xiomara looked over the rest of her family. Yaritza had taken to the lamp in the corner to take pictures of the letter in better lighting. Marisa was cooing Spanish terms of endearment into her cell phone. Rafael and Henry were now talking about women.
“Settling down yet, Chico?” Rafael asked with a playful bop on the shoulder.
Henry was bashful. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know about settling down . . .”
She looked at it all in disbelief. One strange incident—the will—was something you might dismiss. This lot clearly had. But two . . .
How are you not taking this the least bit seriously?! she wanted to shout.
And what she really wanted to say aloud was, What if it’s the demon?
Because even as she had dismissed the will as Papi Ramon’s senility, she couldn’t dismiss this letter saying what it said and appearing as it did.
Or I will.
Who—or what—could do such a thing? Blackmail wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, but how would a blackmailer have slipped that new will into the lawyer’s files? Maybe it was the lawyer, but Xiomara couldn’t figure how he’d get away with it. What—put a fake will, and then he’d somehow inherit everything, as if no one would notice? And sure, hackers could get access to all sorts of information, but that alone should be enough to get these people to shut up and focus. Because whether it was a metaphor or literal, there definitely seemed to be something coming after them. It had basically knocked down the front door with this letter . . .
A flash of realization hit her. The front door. That was it.
“Naomi, do you know how I can get the security camera footage?”
It didn’t take long to get access. The security camera was apparently linked to an app called SureSecure that Xiomara had to download to log into the account. According to Naomi, Papi Ramon had apparently never changed the default password from 12345 (the computer science major in Xiomara winced at that lack of password security, but she put that aside for the moment), so once she was able to log in, it was just a matter of finding the latest footage from that day and rewinding.
She rewound far back, until the sun began to rise. The security camera was switched to night vision mode, casting Xiomara’s entire screen in dark green and black pixels. She could somewhat see the road, though the large trees practically melted into the night. She fast-forwarded. Hours later, the person who came first was Rafael. Naomi had mentioned that once before. Xiomara paused the video just as Rafael came to the door. She zoomed in on his hands and felt a pang of disappointment when she realized he wasn’t holding anything. When she tried to parse that particular feeling, it struck her that it would have meant they had found their culprit, that they could put all this nonsense to bed and get to the task of figuring out what the hell Rafael was up to.
What has he been looking for? she wondered.
Xiomara fast-forwarded the video again. There was Naomi, coming by Uber. The drizzling had started by then, and Xiomara watched the young woman pull her North Face rain jacket tighter around her body and prop up her hood. Then she lingered by the doorway, hands disappearing into pockets. Xiomara’s breath caught in her throat.
Was it her . . . ? No, it couldn’t be. Granted, Naomi had reason to greatly dislike the family, but Xiomara didn’t want to imagine she was capable of such cruel manipulation during a mourning period.
As if to prove that, Naomi pulled out the house keys. Xiomara sighed in relief as her ears burned with shame. This was why she wanted this over. It was embarrassing to start pointing fingers without any kind of proof. More than that, the disappointment was crushing. If there wasn’t a rational explanation for this, she could only consider the impossible.
That among the family was a lurking devil.
Or maybe it’s a hacker, she thought. One with really good AI software.
With AI-generated images, there were always telltale signs that it was simply a bastardized creation, a collection of pixels slotted together like puzzle pieces to create a facsimile of whatever the prompt was. Extra fingers on hands, objects suddenly blurring into other items, the list went on. Having taken a course on AI generations and the pitfalls of such technology, Xiomara knew this. Something so obvious wouldn’t have escaped her notice. She held on to the possibility of tampered footage. Sure, it was incredibly improbable, but if she was going to go out on a limb and say that demons were involved, then a dedicated hacker could not have been her line in the sand.
Xiomara pressed play, watching Naomi disappear into the front door. She sped the video up again. On the street, several cars whizzed by, and the trees waved and bristled in the wind. The clouds above were brewing something fierce, and Xiomara stopped the video an hour later. There were Marisa and Aury arriving together. The two seemed to be laughing loudly about something while Aury reached into her purse. The peach Michael Kors handbag looked overloaded and stuffed to the brim. Aury dug so much into it, Xiomara could see the edge of a piece of paper sticking out.
