MONDAY, APRIL 6, 2009

On the phone with my mom.

“But this is your home, Teodoro.”

“It’s temporary. I was doing so good. I been trying for college, Mami.”

She sniffles. There’s a catch in her throat. It’s like she’s getting herself calm before she talks because she doesn’t want me to know she’s crying.

“Oh, mijo, I know. I’m so proud of you.”

“I can study here. And I’m not afraid to go to sleep.”

No response. I can hear her blow her nose.

“I know it’s hard, Teodoro. But your father—”

“I don’t want this, Mami. I want Manny to be okay. I want everything to be better.”

“I’m sorry, mijo.”

“Don’t be sorry, Mami. I’m sorry.”