But yesterday, she said she’d been wrong to cut ties. She wanted to reconnect with Rosa. And she would never abandon Johnny, her biggest connection to our old lives. She clearly sought some middle ground.
I just couldn’t see a middle ground for her and me. I couldn’t take the risk. Better to stay away.
“Look, Deck,” Juan began. “As long as I’ve known you, you’ve blamed yourself for everything. Marisol’s accident, what happened to Cori and your friends. Eliazar especially. People tell you things aren’t your fault, and you don’t accept it. People tell you they forgive you, and you don’t accept it. You’ve accomplished so much over the past few years to get your life back on track. You can’t be afraid to take that ultimate step forward, to forgive yourself.”
“I don’t know…if I can.” Exhaling, I scraped my hand over my jaw. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“Maybe start by letting Cori decide if she needs to be protected from you.”
Chapter thirteen
Deck - Age 18
TWELVE-AND-A-HALF YEARS AGO
There weren’t any cars parked in front of our house when we pulled in. Good. If I had to suffer this humiliation, I preferred to do it when none of my siblings were visiting. Even Marisol was away. My parents had asked Cori to pick her up at school so they could attend the appointment with me.
Still, it almost surprised me not to see Emilio’s piece-of-shit car by the curb. My second-oldest brother had been on my case ever since one of his cop friends ran into me at Chi-chi’s. He hadn’t said anything to Mamá and Pop, but he’d let me know exactly what he thought of myfriend.
Well, Emilio could be pissed all he wanted. No one had noticed when maybe it could have made a difference. Now it was too late.My friends and I were in so deep with Chi-chi that I had no idea how to save us. That motherfucker had us by the balls.
I bolted out of the back seat the minute Pop killed the engine. The screen door leading into the kitchen snapped on its hinges when I jerked it back, the metallic clatter igniting the air between me and my parents.
Mamá and Pop hurried in after me, sensing my intention to hightail it to my room.
“Stop!” Pop called out. “We need to talk about this.” He pulled out a chair at the table, hitching his neck in asit-downgesture.
I sat. I supposed one thing I could be grateful for in all my dumbfuckery over the past few years was that I hadn’t totally jacked my relationship with my family. To be sure, I’d been a terrible son. I’d pretended, stonewalled, evaded, avoided, hedged, and lied. I’d ignored their worried faces when Cruz picked me up and their frowns when I stumbled home wasted. Despite that, I attended family dinners, kept my room straight, watched a game with Pop once in a while, and did enough for them to convince themselves everything was fine. Or at least not entirely out of control.
Now, a crack.
None of what happened at the meeting today was their fault, although I knew they blamed themselves. But it wasn’t on them. This shit was all me, and I’d gotten good at ignoring the regret that sometimes threatened to rise from my stomach and consume me whole. I could usually push it down with alcohol, weed, or a new score. I didn’t know what else to do.
My mom sat down next to me. “Mijo, I know you’re disappointed, but it’s not the end of the world. You heard what Mr. Carson said. It’s only one more year, and you can do it mostly online. You’d only have to go into the school building a few times a month.”
“Mamá, you need to let it go. I’m done with high school.”
The guidance counselor had been clear. I’d failed too many courses to graduate with my class. Even making accommodations for the diagnosis I’d received at the end of junior year, it was too late.
My mother put her head in her hands. “Es mi culpa.” Her shoulders shook. She looked up at my father with tears in her eyes. “No presté atención.”
“It’s not your fault, Mamá,” I insisted.
Pop put a hand on her shoulder. “None of us were paying enough attention, María. Especially not that fucking school.” My pops’ Irish cheeks got red easily. He’d worked himself up in the counselor’s office earlier, having some choice words for an education system that hadn’t figured out I was dyslexic until I was seventeen.
“It doesn’t matter.” I pushed back my chair. “I can take the GED next year. It’s done.”
“Is that what you want, son?”
I laughed roughly. “Unless you have a time machine where I can go back and start over, it’s really the only option.”
I knew my parents thought I was talking about getting the late diagnosis for the learning disability, but they had no idea. The fact that I still attended school at all was a miracle. Maintaining that appearance had been for them, not me. But I felt so fucking far from high school—classes, school plays, pep rallies, prom, football games—all that shit…Dios.
Not getting my diploma? That was nothing. That was a problem I could solve.
If they knew about Eliazar…or Cruz…or Johnny…especially Johnny, who they loved like a son.Fuck!
The day before, I’d pulled Johnny out of a dumpster. A warning shot from Chi-chi. I’d been lucky to find him at all, except somebody saw two guys toss him in there, and then told someone else, who told someone else, who told Cori. She cameto me, crying. She asked for my help and wanted to come with me, but I wouldn’t let her. I told her I’d only fish him out if she met us back at her place.
