6
Carlos
I sit in my mother’s bedroom and watch her move around the breakfast food on the tray in front of her. Her eyes are glassy, face pale. It’s been three interminable days since Sedona left. Three days, one hour and forty-three minutes, to be exact.
Maria Jose, Juanito’s mother, pours me a fresh cup of coffee, milky and smooth. I love the coffee grown here on our mountain. I’ve been drinking it since I was a pup. It’s mild enough I can drink it all day long.
“When is your father coming in?” my mother asks me.
My chest tightens, as it always does when she forgets he’s dead.
“He’s gone, Mamá. It’s just me now.”
I see a flicker of terror in her eyes before it fades and she bends her head to her buttered bread.
“I... found a female, Mamá.” I surprise myself. I didn’t expect to ta
