Page 16 of Capicú Summer

“Adri…?” My mother’s voice freezes me in place. The little girl inside me who longed for a mother screams to be felt. Screams at me to turn around and hug my mother.

It’s been years since I’ve heard her say my name without slurring it, years since I’ve seen her. I turn slowly, taking in my mother. She’s thinner than I remember. Eyes hollow and glazed like she’s still high or always on the verge of crying. Cheekbones sharp, her brown hair pulled back like she tried to make herself presentable but didn’t quite get there. She’s wearing one of Neno's old T-shirts, which swallows her whole. There’s a strange ache in my chest that twists deeper. The shock finally allows words to form.

“Hi, Ma.” My voice comes out small and I hate that. She looks around the kitchen, afraid to look me in the eyes. The face of the little girl she abandoned amidst her own grief.

My mother gives me a small smile that doesn't reach her eyes. “Ruben said you would be here.” She swallows hard before stepping forward. “You’re really here.”

“I am.”

She nods, stepping back, noticing the tension in the air. “I didn’t think you’d come back.”

“I didn’t think you’d want me to.”

Her eyes flicker with guilt, grief, and regret. A small quiver in her lips makes my heart clench. “I always wanted you. I just… Wasn’t good at showing it.”

That’s one way to describe disappearing into grief and addiction after Neno died. Of course, I don’t say that. There’s no need to, life has been cruel enough to my mother. I can show her a little mercy with my silence. She finally musters enough courage to step forward, wringing her hands. “I heard your abuelo… wants… you.”

My stomach tightens. “Yeah.”

“You don’t have to do it,” she whispers. “You don’t owe this block anything. You don’t owe him anything.” The way she says him tells me she still resents Yael.

“I’m not doing anything I don’t want to,” I reply flatly, trying to change the subject.

She gives me a sad, knowing smile. Her hand lifts to caress my cheek. “You always were a terrible liar.”

I look away, blinking fast at the pressure building behind my eyes. The kitchen feels too small, too warm, and too full of everything we never said. She reaches out, hesitates, then lets her hand fall. “I’m trying, mija. I know it’s late. I know I messed up. But I’m trying.”

“I know,” I whisper, and I do.

But knowing doesn’t erase the years I’ve spent wishing she could see me. Doesn’t erase the pain of dealing with my grief and having no one to turn to. I was alone while she escaped into her mind. She lets out a sigh before backing toward the doorway that leads to Abuelo’s room. “Just… be careful tonight.”

I give her a tight smile. “I will.”

And with that, she leaves, allowing me to breathe again.

My chest aches, not from anger, not out of resentment, but from the tiny sliver of hope that maybe this time she means it. Even though it’s just me hoping, nothing more than a little girl's dream. With that, I walk out of the kitchen and towards the room that used to belong to a girl I no longer remember.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, I look at the empty hall. My eyes are fixed on the door at the end of it, the door that’s been frozen in time. The urge to walk towards it and step inside has me digging my nails into the mattress. I couldn’t. Fear roots me in place—afraid to see how time has moved on without my brother. I blink away the tears. Then I hear the door from downstairs open, noise spilling from the bodega as people begin to get ready for Capicú Friday.

Quickly, I rise to my feet, closing the door shut, and start to get myself ready for tonight.

After a long nap, and even longer shower, I’m finally ready. The night crept up on me faster than I expected. My body buzzes with anticipation, making my extremities feel jiggly and uncoordinated. I rake my fingers through my curls, admiring what I see in the mirror. My waves fall around my waist, only half of them are pinned up with a butterfly clip. My reflection stares back at me, and I can’t help but smirk.

Feeling the woman I’ve kept tucked deep inside, defrosting. The leopard print satin scarf I tied into a halter top glides under my palms as I smooth it down. The fabric is soft and shows just enough skin to be a little dangerous. My jean shorts hug my curves just right, and the gold chain looped around my waist catches the light every time I shift.

For a moment, I just stand here, taking myself in. Lenny would have hated this—what I’m wearing. The gloss that sits on my lips, the wings that adorn my eyes. Everything about what I enjoyed wearing, Lenny would find a reason to hate. Yet, this is the girl I cling to. The girl the block remembers. The girl he remembers.

And tonight, she’s stepping back outside.

I suck in a deep breath before spraying myself with my shea butter and mango body spray, then I step out of the room. My gaze moves down the hall, and I linger, waiting for the door to swing open. For Neno to step out into the hall and bitch about my shorts being too short—like he always did. A wave of grief washes over me, making my heart ache. I look away, forcing my mind to push past the grief, and head down the stairs and towards the sound of bachata that plays loudly through the house. The smell of fried beef, chicken, and pork has my stomach growling in protest and my mouth watering. Each step makes my pulse climb higher and higher.

A loud whistle pulls me out of my head. Glancing over my shoulder, I’m met with Chinito and Alex, who all hang around the kitchen. The rivalry never matters when it comes down to free food and booze, not around here. We’re all family. Chinito runs a hand through his onyx strands, stepping away from the boys and moving closer to me.

“Adri, it’s nice to see you,” he says with a smile, opening his arms and wrapping them tightly around me.

I pat his back awkwardly. “It’s good to see you too.”

He steps away, eyes sweeping over me. “You look great.”