There were so many ideas out there about how to treat addiction, and the more research I did, the more discouraged I became. No matter which type of program or therapy you did, it seemed like the chance of relapse was much higher than the chance of sobriety. And this was all in addition to Johnnyhaving to adjust to new activity restrictions and a regimen of medications for his HIV.
Helping Rosa was a welcome distraction. I felt like the Center had saved my life more than once as a teenager, providing me with the direction and support I needed. In a way, it was saving me again, offering a purpose and a path for me to return to the neighborhood. In the days since Deck and I found Johnny, I’d thought a lot about what I ran away from when I left Everett.
Everything with Chi-chi had gone down at the end of my junior year. My senior year had been miserable with Deck and Cruz gone. Johnny and Eliazar were like ghosts, deep into their addictions. I tried to stay connected to Marisol and the rest of the Deckers, but it was as though the light had left all their eyes. No one knew what normal was anymore. I missed Deck, and I was desperate to talk to him. But he wouldn’t see me. Wouldn’t respond to my letters.
After he got locked up, I felt keenly how he’d been so much more than a boy I pined for. We were friends. Confidants. He’dknownme, all the parts of me, maybe better than anyone. I missed our secret language, where he got to drop his guard and I got to share my burdens. I hadn’t realized Deck had been my anchor until that night with Chi-chi flung me back into the sea.
The hug in his driveway haunted my dreams. Then I’d wake up alone. After enough mornings like that, I realized I couldn’t stay. When my mom got diagnosed with pancreatic cancer just before graduation, my leaving became inevitable. Two months later, I buried her with Rosa’s hand on my shoulder and left for college in Seattle. Occasional visits from my brother became the only tether to my childhood. And I tried my best to be a different person.
But after running into Rosa six months ago, I began to think I was ready to return. The decision I’d made at age eighteen didn’t need to be absolute.
The ordeal with Chi-chi had been horrendous and shocking, but I’d been wrong to let it define my entire childhood. There’d been plenty of good days. Days when I helped Rosa make meals for kids at the Center, listening as she told me stories and taught me the right way to roll taquitos. There had been fun times at home between the bad—belly laughs I’d shared with my mom and Johnny, not to mention the stacks of puzzles we’d put together. Even the moments when my brother and I had been co-conspirators in making sure our fucked-up little family stayed whole were mostly fond memories. Johnny’s friends had also been happy staples in my life. Besides Deck, there’d been stoic Cruz, who taught me how to jump a car battery and change a tire, and sweet Eliazar, who bought me slushies from the corner market, always choosing the grossest flavor like Coca-Cola. There were memorable times with the Deckers. The day Emilio finally saved up enough to buy his shitty car and the neighborhood threw an impromptu barbecue to celebrate. The day Raymond got his scholarship offer to study music in New York. The day Deck taught Marisol to ride his old bike. So many good times before that last awful night.
I’d walked away because of what had happened with Chi-chi and because I’d missed Deck like a severed limb. I’d been young and in pain. Now I was back, and it felt right. Awkward and weird and uncertain, but right.
I showed up at the Center the Thursday after Johnny’s hospitalization. As I exited I-5, the route came back easily. And even though it had been almost a dozen years, a sense of homecoming surfaced as I pulled into the dusty parking lot.
The Center was converted from an old warehouse, and new wings had been added over the decades, along with a gym. It looked a little haphazard, both inside and out, because it had been built with function in mind rather than style. There were two play structures, baseball and soccer fields, and a track. Thebuilding was secure, with only one main entrance. Since the last time I’d been here, a glass enclosure had been added to the front door, reminding me of a holding pen, where all building visitors had to wait before being buzzed in.
The cavernous main lobby, called “the atrium,” contained game tables on one side and couches and TVs on the other. The rest of the indoor spaces were found down four other hallways, extending from the atrium like bicycle spokes, with classrooms, an art studio, a teen-only area, and a kitchen all occupying a section.
Rosa met me at the glass doors. When we walked into the lobby, the staff person sitting behind the front desk immediately jumped up and came running around the counter. Before I could blink, she flew at me and wrapped her arms tightly around my chest.
“Surprise!” She stepped back and grabbed my hands. “I told Rosa not to tell you I worked here.”
I took in her dark brown curls and long lashes underneath winged eyeliner, along with her funky vintage housedress. Then my eyes fell upon the tight, silvery-scarred skin running up her neck to her left cheek.
“Marisol?”
“Sí, mamacita. ’Tis I.” She placed one hand dramatically against her chest and crooked the other on her hip, batting her eyelids like they were hummingbird wings.
Rosa smiled fondly at Marisol and swatted her on the shoulder. “Enough with the silliness,nena.” Rosa turned to me. “Marisol has been our program director for about a year. When I told her you were coming, she swore me to secrecy.”
Marisol smiled widely. “I’ve really missed you, Cori, a.k.a. best. Babysitter. Ever. I was so glad when Rosa mentioned you were helping out.”
I hadn’t seen Deck’s little sister since she was eleven. She’d been a confident kid, precocious and smart, especially once her more stringent restrictions were eased, and she’d been allowed to go to school and participate in activities. Apparently, her natural exuberance had followed her into adulthood.
“It’s just Mari and me here now, since it’s early,” Rosa explained, pulling a few chairs up to the lobby desk and inviting me to sit. “My fundraiser, Ana, works three days per week and is off today. Quincy, our finance person, is mostly remote. The rest of the staff won’t get here until the kids are out of school.”
“Ana and Quincy know about the financial problems, of course, but we haven’t told the others yet,” Marisol said. “Once they notice you’re here, we’ll fill them in as it becomes necessary.”
“Of course.” I turned to Rosa. “And I do want to get started, but first please tell me how Lupe is?”
“Aye, nena. Eres tan amable. She was sleeping this morning when I left, but she’s comfortable, I think.” Rosa looked teary-eyed as she turned away. “I’m going to go grab some files from the office, and Marisol can get you started on the computer.”
Marisol pulled up another rolling chair. “I’m happy you’re here, Cori. I mean that. I know you haven’t been back since you went to college, and it’s just so great to see you.”
There wasn’t a hint of passive-aggressiveness in her voice—on brand for the sweet little girl I remembered.
“I’m sorry I stayed away so long. I feel bad now, knowing I could have been here to do more for Rosa.”
Marisol clicked the mouse a few times, and an Excel spreadsheet popped up on the screen. “Cori, she understood. We all did. I know it was rough for you after Deck went away. With Johnny, and then when your mom got sick. I’m sorry about not getting a chance to offer my condolences. I only met Jill a few times, but she was always nice to me.”
“Thanks. But since you were eleven, you get a pass.” I smiled. “Besides, I wasn’t exactly in areceiving condolenceskind of mood. That’s why I left so quickly after the service.”
“Like I said, I get it.” She took her hand off the keyboard and angled her chair toward mine. “You know why I don’t think Rosa was bothered that you went so long without returning to the neighborhood?”
“Why?”
