This is from Maria's Perspective
My mami... she's gone. A void has opened inside me, a hollow emptiness that echoes with every beat of my heart. The only tethers I have to reality are the warm bodies nestled against me. Everything else is a black void of pain.
Time loses all meaning as we sit there, ensnared in our shared sorrow. Memories of mami, of her unwavering love for me, flutter through my mind, each one squeezing more tears from my already weary eyes. The world around us falls silent, a solemn mausoleum to the life that once was.
My mami is dead. She's really gone.
Suddenly, I feel a shift beside me, a warm body pulling away. I instinctively tighten my hold on the remaining two, my mind flashing back to a time when mami comforted me during a blizzard that knocked out our power. She sang songs in my ear, her voice a soothing balm against the howling storm outside.
Without realizing it, I find myself humming along to the melody of that memory, my arms wrapped tightly around the warm bodies. There are noises in the distance, but they seem unimportant, insignificant.
My mami is gone.
Nothing else in this world matters.
Then, something wet touches my face, my eyes. The sudden shock forces me to open my eyes, the crust of dried-out tears and salt tearing at my eyelashes. After blinking away the dry crust, I saw Rosalina kneeling in front of me, a paper towel in one hand and a glass of water in the other. The warm bodies against me are my daughters, their small forms huddled to me, arms holding me as tightly as I was holding them.
Through the fog of my grief, I hear Rosalina's voice, a soft whisper against the silence, cutting through the fog of grief. "You need to drink some water."
But the act of accepting the cup meant releasing my hold on my daughters. I felt the youngest one wriggling on my lap. My reflex was to tighten my grip, to hold her close, but I quickly realized she was trying to sit up. I loosened my arm around her and felt my oldest shifting at my other side.
My youngest turned to her aunt and took the cup from Rosalina and held it to my lips. She tipped it gently, allowing me to take a sip. The cool water was a balm to my parched throat, but it did nothing to quench the burning pain in my heart. The memories of my mami were still vivid in my mind, a montage of love and warmth.
Through the haze of my tears, I managed to smile at my youngest. "Thank you, mijita," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. She returned my smile, her eyes filled with concern as she looked at my face.
"Mami, are you hungry?" she asked, her small hand resting on my stomach. "Your stomach has been rumbling for a while now."
Her words snapped me out of my grief-induced stupor. The tears that had been flowing freely from my eyes dried up instantly. The memories of my mami shifted, transforming from images of her caring for me to images of me caring for my own children. I was now mami, and my children needed me to be strong.
For them.
I would be shattered on the inside, but for them, I would be a pillar of strength on the outside.
I took the damp paper towel from Rosalina and gently wiped the tear stains from my daughters' faces. "Yes, I could eat," I admitted, my voice still shaky. "I walked all the way from work today."
Turning to my oldest, I brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. "I'm sure you two are hungry as well." Both girls nodded in agreement, their faces still pale in the twilight hours of the hazy day. "Let's go find some food. I've only eaten a pop tart today." This made my kids giggle, bringing a brief smile to their beautiful faces.
My youngest hopped off my lap, and we all made our way to the kitchen together. The fridge and freezer were already warm. The stove, of course, was only useful with electricity as well.
I turned to my oldest, standing by the counter, her eyes staring blankly at the cross on the wall. "Gabriela, could you please go get the camping stove? We should cook the meat from the freezer before it spoils."
She nodded, her face still strained with grief, and went to obey.
We were in the process of assembling the camping stove when a knock on the door startled us. The sudden noise in the quiet apartment made us all jump, a collective scream echoing in the room.
Tome's voice filtered through the door, "Maria, can you come with me, please? There's someone at the gate claiming to know you. But they look shady as..." His voice trailed off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air.
"What do you mean?" I called out as I walked towards the door, my heart pounding in my chest.
"He says his name is Derrick, and he's with a man named Malcolm and a woman. They're dragging some carts with them," Tome explained, his voice filled with suspicion.
I opened the door, my mind racing. "That might be my boss, his family, and their bodyguard," I said, more to myself than to Tome.
"Could you please come with me?" Tome asked.
I turned to look at Rosalina, who was standing in the kitchen with Gabriela and Sofia. She nodded at me and said, "We'll get the food going, right girls?"
"Yes, Tia," they responded in unison.
Tome's pace was brisk, faster than my aching legs and weary back were willing to go. I had pushed myself to keep up. As we approached the gates, I saw a familiar figure standing in a standoff with the group of men armed with makeshift weapons. It was Derrick, towering a good head and shoulders above everyone else, an imposing figure, especially in the dim light.
As I got closer, my heart clenched at seeing his side stained a dark, ominous red. I could only assume it was blood, and by the looks of it, he had lost more than was safe, his dark skin looking almost pale. Behind him, I saw Mr. and Mrs. Allen, along with a few wagons filled with what looked like their belongings.
I walked past the men, my eyes never leaving Derrick. "Are you okay?" I asked, my voice cracking.
Derrick managed a weak smile. "Yeah, had a bit of an emergency, and you are the only ones we know in the city that we could turn to for help." His voice was strained, and he looked genuinely apologetic.
I waved them in without a second thought. "Oh, of course, come on in." They stumbled past the guards, their movements sluggish and weary, and followed me to my apartment. Tome frowned and scowled the whole time. It was almost comical seeing him have to look up to give dirty looks at Derrick.
The aroma of cooking food was wafting through the apartment as we walked in, a comforting scent that reminded me of Mami's cooking. Rosalina and the girls were in the kitchen, their faces morphing into concern and fear as we filed in, the last being Tome. Rosalina's eyes immediately snapped to the red stain on Derrick's side, her face quickly turning to one of concern.
Without a word, she handed the spatula to Gabriela. She sprinted off to get her medical kit, ordering Derrick to sit in the chair by the door and take off his shirt.
The Allen kids stirred in their trailer. They must have slept most of the way. I leaned over them with a warm smile, welcoming them to our home. Sofia quickly came over and started babbling with the kids, effectively distracting them and leading them to the far end of the living room, away from the sight of Derrick.
As Rosalina returned and started tending to Derrick's wound, he grunted softly in pain. The room was filled with a tense silence, broken only by the occasional yelp from Derrick as Rosalina cleaned his wound. I went to my eldest, kissed her on the head, and helped her finish preparing dinner warming up the tortillas.
Without warning, Mrs. Allen, who had been silent up until now, suddenly scoffed and spoke up. "I demand a private room and a shower immediately," she declared, her voice echoing in the quiet room.
Derrick yelped as Rosalina jabbed a bit harder into his wound. "Sorry," she muttered, not looking the least bit apologetic, as she stared murderously at the newcomer.
Mr. Allen glared at his wife, his teeth gritted as he spoke. "Honey, this isn't a hotel. Be grateful we're not sleeping outside," he said, his voice softer as he added, "or worse."
I had questions, but they would have to wait till the kids went to bed.
With the food ready and Rosalina finishing her medical care, I invited everyone to eat at the table.
Tome excused himself before the meal, leaving the rest of us to dine in an uneasy silence. Emma and Michel were the only ones who broke the quiet, commenting that the food tasted strange but good. They seemed to enjoy it, at least.
After we finished eating, Gabriela and Sofia took Emma and Michel to play in their room, giving the adults some space. Derrick took this opportunity to fill Rosalina and me in on what had happened. I reciprocated by sharing the news of my mother's passing.
Mr. Allen's face fell at the news. "Maria, I'm so sorry to hear that," he said, his voice filled with genuine regret. "And I'm sorry we're imposing on your family during such a trying time. Could we possibly stay here until the power comes back on? We'll do our best not to intrude, and once this is all over, I'll gladly compensate you for your troubles."
I saw Rosalina opening her mouth with a murderous look in her eyes. Before Rosalina could respond, I cut in. "Of course, Mr. Allen. And don't worry about anything." I reassured him, despite the murderous look Rosalina shot at Mrs. Allen.
With Rosalina's help, I gathered some spare bedding and an air mattress. The Allens would take the pull-out couch, and Derrick would sleep on the air mattress. The only two displeased by this arrangement were Rosalina and Mrs. Allen.
That night was restless. Every rustle, every creak, and every distant gunshot jolted me awake.