Miguel continued to work at the store despite there being nothing to sell for many days at a time. So Mother decide to close the doors on the afternoons we didn’t have any chickens and eggs. She told him to go home when she closed early but he always stayed until the end of his workday.
Having him manage the store had brought new freedoms for her, which she seemed eager to explore. Even though I was now twelve, Miguel had continued to take care of me. Mother irritated me when she’d disappear for days at a time. Without a word as to where she was going and with whom she was traveling, she’d pack her best shoes, finest clothes, makeup, and of course her fancy high-heeled slippers and nightgown, into her lacquered overnight case. Then, joyfully, off she’d dash.
When she did eventually return, she offered no explanation as to where she had been. Los tíos simply looked at her and walked away. My inquiring about her adventures only led to an argument, and I was determined not to fall into the same pattern Father had gotten trapped in. So I convinced myself that it didn’t matter. But it did.
Deep down, I understood her desire to be with someone, to find someone to love her, to find someone she could love. Even so, I could not allow my sympathy for her to soften my anger. It was easier to live in a state of anger because being angry dulled the pain. I walked with disappointment and hurt.
Why couldn’t she stay the loving mother she’d been that time when I was ill with the flu? She sat with me around the clock, mopping my brow, feeding her chicken soup to me, holding the spoon to my mouth. She’d fluffed my pillow and brought me Coca-Cola and forced me to drink buckets of water. Obediently, I did everything she said because I loved her as the devoted mother. I thought something had changed in her, and that she would remain the mother I’d forever wished her to be. But she only stayed for the duration of my illness. I even pretended to be sicker long after I’d recovered. However, there was no fooling Mother. She saw through my charade and swiftly shed her mother act to continue her pursuit of happiness.
Most days, I came home to an empty house after school. Mother had surprised me with ring of keys of my very own. So, I let myself in. Even if Miguel were in the store, I took care of myself, eating whatever I could find. On the days when there was no ready food available to me, I didn’t eat until Tía Cecilia got home and cooked a meal. Often, we were forced to see what Tío Patrício brought home. If there was nothing left to eat, we illegally raided the store for eggs.
Those were the only hours when life felt normal to me. Once the meal was over and the dishes had been cleaned, los tíos returned to their room to be together, and I was left alone in our empty rooms.
One afternoon, as I approached the house, I noticed that the shutters and the door were locked tight. I was stunned to find Miguel behind the counter, stroking himself as Father had done at the bathroom sink.
Standing at the edge of the counter a few steps away, I stared at his big hand moving back and forth. Intently, I watched as he slowly stroked himself. His enlarged dark pupils reduced the glowing ring of white that framed them. He gestured for me to step forward. Hesitant for but a moment, I eagerly took over for him. I had dreamed of that moment so many times that it felt natural for me to comply. What started as a onetime seduction, rapidly turned into a regular occurrence, as his closing the store early became more frequent. Hoping for a rendezvous with him, I’d race home from school. Enthralled with Miguel and his game, the pain of Sebastián’s rejection faded. I rarely saw him in his yard, but one day when I did, I bragged about the things Miguel and I did until his hazel eyes filled with tears and he started to weep. I told myself that I didn’t care, and started to walk away, but turned at the last moment to point to the open kitchen door.
Uncertain as to what might happen, or even what I wished would happen, I was excited when Sebastián took the bait. Wearing nothing but his boxer shorts, he walked over to Miguel and me, attempting to join us in our dance, but Miguel blocked him with his arm to prevent him from touching me. He remained there, listening to our labored breathing, our moans and gasping for air. Then, lowering his head, he quietly exited the same way he came in.
Even though I hadn’t touched him, I was glad that Sebastián followed me into the house. Having shared the experience with two people I cared about more than anyone else in the world, I felt loved.