The Story of Us

I went to bed last night with hopes today would be better. That I'd wake up and somehow not miss you, or want to call you, or worse, remember that I couldn't call you and collapse in a puddle of salty, sangria induced tears. I didn't want to miss you anymore. I had done enough of that.

It made me angry to miss you. So when I woke up and thought of you, I did in fact scream the loudest "Fuck!" my undercaffeinated, undernourished, sleep deprived larynx could muster. I did in fact stomp, my face in full scowl, to the bathroom to pee. I did slam my refrigerator door after I retrieved the creamer, angry that I remembered how you'd yell if I slammed any door, but especially the car or fridge because they were, by your estimation, the most expensive. So I made sure to slam it again when I got the eggs and jam out. Fuck you.

I went to bed last night determined to respond to some of the emails, text messages, and DMs that drove me to turn my phone on DND for the last 3 days. But because my day had already started in anger, I could only text Cece and David back, leaving everyone else on read. I just didn't have the energy. There had been knocks on the door, probably from Mrs. Cunningham, being nosey, or some delivery person or another, but I didn't want to be seen, so I hadn't answered the door. Now, here it was again, a knocking. Someone, some intrusive someone, was wanting my attention. Wanting, quite urgently it seemed, to have audience with me. To disturb my melancholy with their condolences.

"I've called you 29 times, Julisa. I counted. I kept track. Because I said 'if this girl don't answer the phone by Friday, I'm kicking in her door myself'. But I figured it'd probably be easier on everybody if I just came over and knocked. Now move. I gotta pee. And bring in some of these boxes out here before your stuff come up missing. People do that, ya know? I saw it on the news, they just walk up on your doorstep and take the whole thing. I told Fred we needed one of those glitter bomb boxes. Bet they wouldn't mess with our stuff..."

Aunt Gloria had called me 32 times. I counted. Because I knew that she would be over soon. To inspect my house. To make sure I was breathing. To feed me. What was surprising was that Uncle Fred wasn't with her. I didn't have time to ask because she didn't stop talking from the time I opened the door until she came back out of the bathroom. "You're out of toilet paper Juju Bean", she said, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel, "had you answered the phone, you could've told me and I would've brought you some. You know your Uncle Fred is a couponer, we have toilet paper to the ceiling in the basement. I'll tell him to bring you some. He's worried about you anyway".

I'm fine. I'm always fine.

"Baby girl, you are many things, but from the look and smell of you and this house, fine is not one of them. I figured it'd be a little out of sorts but this," she said, taking full stock of my kitchen , "this looks like some shit on Hoarders, girl. Come on. Gimme some gloves, I can't stand to look at it". And with that she took off her shawl and hat, replaced her mules with my slides, and began to clean.

It wasn't that bad, really. Just a few bottles, some takeout containers, empty tissue boxes, cigarette butts, ice cream containers. The usual. But Aunt Glo was one of those aunties who always had a beautiful, delicious smelling home. So to her it was like walking into a dumpster. "I'm not gon' fuss at you about these cigarettes, Ju. But you know I don't like it".

I know.

"Okay. Now go take a shower, Pig Pen. You messing with my sinuses".

Yes ma'am.

My bathroom was definitely cleaner than it'd been this morning when I rage peed. It seemed Aunt Gloria had come here with a game plan. I mean, I knew she would. That's what she does, she fixes things. I just wanted to wallow a little longer before she got here. I didn't want to have it all together. I didn't want to clean or be clean.

I guess this is the part when I tell you that I had an emotional breakthrough as the warm water cascaded over my body, that I was enveloped in a moment of pure bliss and zen wherein I was able to scrub away all my sorrows with a loofah and some body wash. But we didn't tell big lies, well at least I didn't, so I won't start now. I just took a shower and put on something clean and went to my living room, which now was also clean.

Thank you, Aunt Glo.

"You're always welcome, niecey. I started some lunch for us, and ordered some stuff for you on Prime. It'll be here in a little bit".

Thank you, Auntie. I really do appreciate all this. I'm sorry you had to see things this way. It's just been...rough.

"I know. I know. But listen, that's why I'm here. To let you know that no matter how rough it gets, you're always loved and supported, baby girl. As long as I got breath, you got me. Let me go check on this rice".

Sometimes I wonder how different life would've been for us if Aunt Glo and Uncle Fred had children. They went to all our games and recitals. They threw our birthday and graduation parties. They made our holidays special. They were our bonus parents when y'all couldn't be bothered. They doted on us in a way none of you seemed to be capable of doing. They never complained if we asked to read a book for the 10th time in a row, or judged us for missing notes or falling asleep while we did our homework.

"Hey Ju, lunch is ready. Come eat". My kitchen smelled like her kitchen. She'd made my favorite, fried tofu and rice. She plopped down in the chair across from me and smiled, "Eat it all".

The conversation was cumbersome, it seemed almost forced. Then silence. Then, "I have something for you Julisa. She wanted me to give it to you today". Fuck.

I don't want it. I told y'all, I don't want anything of hers. I never did. What I wanted from her, she couldn't give, so whatever you have now won't do me any good.

"Oh Julisa, sweetie, I know you're hurting, but this is very important to you, me, and your mother. Please. Don't make this harder for me than it already is". She reached into her bag and pulled out a small black book. "Please". Now you and I both know that Auntie Gloria never had to say please twice because she knew that all she ever had to do was ask and we'd do whatever she wanted. So that second please was the one that set off all the alarms. I put my napkin on the table, sighed and took the little notebook in my hand. It was curved, like it'd been in your back pocket every day. When I opened it, I thought the cover was going to fall off, but it didn't. It just shifted. I recognized the handwriting immediately. Your signature curvy capital letters, the way the arms of your T's extended to cover the whole word, almost like an umbrella.

"Hey Julisa,

If you're reading this, I'm dead. That's funny. Laugh with me. No? Well, I'm writing this in my hospital room, and you're next to me in a basinet. We went through an ordeal this morning, you and I. You, finally deciding to make your entrance into this world, and me, ready to evict you. I'm kidding. Really.

Anyway, I wanted to start this chronicle of our lives together. You're my first baby. And after today, you'll probably be my only. It was a miracle that I could have you, and I wanted to make sure you knew that. Not because you weren't worth it, but because I don't deserve you. I'm watching you sleep. Your perfect little face. You have my birthmark. Mine is on my wrist, yours on your shoulder. We're connected forever. God, you're so beautiful.

Things probably won't be easy for us Julisa. There's a lot about my life that I don't think I'll ever be able to explain to you. And if I haven't told you by the time you get this notebook, then you may never know. But I want you to know that I love you more than life itself. And at some point you will learn about cliches and realize that I just used one that is cringe worthy, but it's true. You have the heart of a lion. You survived so much. You kept me going. And when I finally saw your face I knew that you were the reason I was allowed to live.

So please accept this little book as penance. For everything you'll have to experience in life because of me. Every pain, every heartbreak, every absence. My life was made exponentially better when you came kicking and screaming into it this morning, and I never want you to doubt or forget that, no matter what happens. Happy Birthday, baby girl. May you be blessed with many, many, happy returns.

Love always,

Mom"

"You don't have to read it all now, Ju. There's a lot in there. But please read it. I'm not going to sit here and act like your mama was perfect, because we both know she wasn't. But what I do know is that she loved you more than anything, and she made sure that no matter what happened to her, you'd always have something to let you know who she was".

Oh really? And who was she? An emotionally distant, self absorbed, absentee mother who never had time for me. A woman who was so selfish she left me with you whenever she felt like going to party, or felt the urge to cleanse herself in a yurt Arizona or trek to some temple. I know you're just doing what she asked, Auntie, but, I just...

"I know. Trust me. I knew her long before you came into this world. But I also know that you and that book need some quality time, and I need to hit the road and go check on Fred. Read it Julisa. For me".

You left me images. Pictures. Some you took with your camera, some you drew. Pictures of us. Letters from you on my birthday, when I got my period. Quick hellos and tear stained pages. Grease stains circled and annotated with what the food was, and where it came from, and whether or not it was delicious. Jokes. Stories about Aunt Glo and Gramma. Apologies. I am angry with you. Why couldn't we have had this before you died?

The last entry you wrote was 2 weeks before they found you. In it you apologized again for everything and promised that you'd make it up to me. You had only been protecting me. "Check the pocket" you scribbled. A letter from Aunt Gloria's lawyer, neatly folded. A trust. I'd never have to work again. I'd rather have you.