I can sense my abuela’s shock through the phone, and she’s quiet for a tenuous moment. Finally, after what seems like an hour, a year, a decade, she murmurs, “That was a terrible decision to make, but it wasn’t only your father who made it.” Her every word is measured to hide the waver I clearly hear behind them. “The truth, mi cielo, is that Jamie was going to die no matter which way your parents chose.”
“But they could have at least tried!” I shout, slamming my hand down hard on the table.
“Yes, they could have,” she agrees, and I’m sobbing in full now. I can’t seem to wipe the tears away quickly enough. “But it would’ve taken a miracle to save Jamie’s life, whereas the blow to this family’s livelihood, and to everyone who helped build the company, would have been certain. And I’m not talking about the shareholders, but the employees—the scientists who worked alongside your abuelo to make Hallazgo a reality. Do not make the mistake of thinking it didn’t cost your father dearly to choose the way they did.”
Wiping my nose on my sleeve, I fling myself backward onto my bed and cross my arms over my chest. “How lucky then that it didn’t cost him his precious legacy,” I scoff.
My abuela’s responding laugh is completely devoid of humor. “No, but it cost him one child and the love and respect of the other.” She pauses then as if considering what to say next, and another few weighted seconds pass in silence before she adds, “Believe me when I tell you that it wasn’t money or legacy your father was thinking about in that moment…but ensuring there would still be a future for the child who would actually live to have one.”
Those words evoke more pain than one of Blondie’s swiftly-timed kicks to the nuts, and I grimace, rolling onto my side until my face is mere inches from my phone.
“Are you just saying that so I’ll forgive him?” I mutter.
I hope she is. Because the thought of it being a lie is so much easier to swallow than the possibility that what she’s said is true.
My abuela tuts at the question. “No, mi amor. If your father seeks your forgiveness, he will have to ask for it himself. Though, I do pray you will try to remember that you are not the only one who lost your brother. We are all still hurting.”
As if on cue, my heart squeezes, reminding me of that pain, and I curl into a ball as my tears continue their nowsilent descent, the pillow growing cold and wet where they pool beneath my face.
So much for walking away from this conversation feeling fucking inspired. I called my abuela so she could make me feel better, so she could give me hope that I can still find some way to help Blondie since I’m clearly incapable of doing it on my own. I wanted to spark an idea, not discover that everything I grew up believing was bullshit, and that my anger these last four years has maybe been severely misguided.
“Are you still there, mijo?” she asks after a while.
My responding grunt lacks enthusiasm.
“Talk to me, Damian. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
I sniff, rolling onto my back again, wiping away my remaining tears with the heels of my hands. “I won’t lie to you, abuela. I’m thinking this has all been depressingly eye-opening.”
She lets out a sardonic laugh. “Why? Because you’ve finally learned your abuelito was human? Because your father is not the heartless monster you’ve convinced yourself he is?” My silence says it all, and she snorts. “Good. Maybe now you can let go of this idea that you need to become either of them. Instead, you should become your own man.”
I blink at that, the words like a slap in the face that rouse me from my indignation and grief.
Become my own man?
“But I…” A lump rises in my throat. I swallow hard. “Even if Hallazgo didn’t become what abuelo envisioned, he was still the one with the ideas and the skills. What the hell do I have to offer? What can I possibly hope to achieve that he couldn’t?”
If he couldn’t find a way to make a real difference, how can I?
And then there’s my dad to contend with. Regardless of his reasons for what happened with Jamie, his priority is ensuring the survival of Hallazgo. And maybe his motivation for protecting it really is the same as why I’m so set on workingfor the company—that lingering thread connecting us to abuelo. Maybe he knows me better than I care to admit if he knew to snatch that thread away. But that sentimental connection—the one that makes me want to fight for a different Hallazgo, and makes him want to protect it—means it’ll only be that much harder to convince my dad to let me change anything. He wants to preserve, but I want to evolve.
I only wish I knew how to do that.
“You listen to me, mijo,” my abuela commands, and I soften at the consoling cadence of her voice. “You are a bright young man, and you have your own skills and passion that you will use to make a difference. I’m certain of it. But you don’t need to have all the answers right now, and no one expects you to. Give it time. Giveyourselftime.”
But I don’t have time!I nearly shout into the phone.
Blondie’s mom might not have time.
As if reading my thoughts, my abuela says, “Besides, I hear your Lexi has quite the gifted mind. Perhaps, you will one day work together on this and find those answers together.”
My abuela’s words echo in my head.
Together…
Together?
Holy shit, that’s it.
