Juliet Takes a Breath Read Online Free PDF Page A

and she hadn’t emerged from their room. All I heard from upstairs was the hush of whispers that almost became shouts.
    Titi Wepa and I sat across from each other. I’d never seen her so still. Wepa’s wild brown curls were gelled back into a severe cop-style ponytail. She studied me, her dark brown eyes like a wolf’s, met mine, “Ok, lesbian, It’s almost time to take you to the airport. Get your stuff, let’s load up the car.”
    The house felt too small for me. My father emerged from the bedroom and helped bring down my bags. Still no sign or sound from Mom. Dad’s face was gray like worn asphalt. Tension lines in the corner of his eyes conveyed feelings of grief, stress, sadness, something other than his usual “men don’t show their feelings” type of face. After loading my gear into Titi Wepa’s Thunderbird, he held me. It was the longest hug I’ve ever received from him. I wondered what they had said about me behind their closed doors. Grandma Petalda stood in the doorway, she beckoned me over.
    â€œYou are what you are, Juliet. You are my blood, my first-born granddaughter. I love you like the seas love the moon,” Grandma Petalda said, pulling me into her soft belly. “You will be back. This is your home. Now, go say goodbye to your mother.”
    I was about to argue with her, say something like, “I can’t come back here, Grandma” or “She doesn’t want me anymore”—something final and dramatic. But I checked myself. I saw our family in her eyes; she wasn’t throwing me away. I kissed Grandma’s cheeks, smelled the adobo still on her skin, and felt waves of Grandpa Cano flow through her. She released me, and I ran up the stairs to my parent’s bedroom.
    I made it to the door, raised my hand to knock, and then stopped. My mom was in there and she wasn’t making any effort to come to me. Maybe she didn’t want me barging in on her, maybe she didn’t want to see my face. I slumped to the floor, feeling like I’d destroyed everything.
    â€œMom,” I called out through the closed door, “I’m sorry I ruined dinner. I didn’t know how else to tell you about Lainie. I didn’t know how else to say any of it,” I said, my chest wheezing. “Titi Wepa’s taking me to the airport now. I love you so much, Mom.” I took a puff from my yellow inhaler. The small screech of release it made filled the air around me. I waited, listening for movement, for any sound of life reaching out from the other side of that door. The hallway walls were lined with pictures of our family. Pictures from the day my mom and dad got married in City Island hung in wooden frames. My dad rocked a short trimmed afro and full beard with his baby blue, ruffled tuxedo. My mom looked like a statue of the Virgin Mary; she was covered in lace and purity, smiling like she knew in that moment what the rest of her life would be like and it was already everything she’d imagined.
    From under the door, she slid a worn photo of us into the hallway. Mom held me in her arms, the Hudson River behind us. My arms were outstretched towards the sun. I turned the picture over and in black ink she’d written “Mariana and Juliet, 1987, Battery Park.”
    â€œWhenever I look at you, I see that baby. You’ll always be that baby to me, so forgive me if I can’t accept what you’ve said tonight.” Mom spoke, still on the other side of the door.
    â€œAren’t you going to hug me goodbye?” I waited for her answer. I just knew she’d open the door and wrap her arms around me. It would all be okay.
    â€œCall us when you get to Iowa so we know you’re safe.”
    â€œPortland, Mom.”
    â€œYou know what I mean.” I heard her get up from the floor and walk over to the bed she shared with my father. I heard the bed frame creak and knew she was laying down. She