Juliet Takes a Breath Read Online Free PDF

wasn’t going to come to me and I couldn’t go to her. I held the picture of us against my chest and rested my forehead against the door for a moment. “Dear God, please make this okay,” I prayed. I walked downstairs and away from my mother.
    Titi Wepa’s Thunderbird hummed in the driveway; Bon Jovi’s You Give Love A Bad Name blasted from its speakers. I climbed in and took a deep breath. Titi peeled out of the driveway, windows down, her ponytail swinging in the wind. A Twix bar slapped against my shoulder. “Don’t worry, sister,” said Lil’ Melvin, “The force is strong within you.”
    I kissed his chubby fingers and said, “You’re my falcon-brother soulmate weirdo.” Our red brick house grew smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror as we sped off to the airport. Titi Wepa ran a red light, blessed herself, and kept her foot on the gas pedal. After a few blocks, I couldn’t even hear the trains rumbling anymore.
    Â 
    Â 
2. La Virgen Take the Wheel
    Â 
    Titi Wepa drove super fast, like a surge of adrenaline released into the bloodstream. Each lane of traffic was an algorithm for her to solve using agility and the need to be faster than everyone else. As a proud, shield-carrying member of the NYPD, this was how she’d been taught to drive in order to save lives; no alternative existed, so we flew. The only thing out of the ordinary was her silence; Titi’s lack of one-liners and profanity-laden nicknames for the drivers beside her created a deep void. I wondered if she was repulsed by my confession or if she thought I was a coward for spilling and running. Lil’ Melvin sat in the back, nighttime erased his ability to read in the backseat. He was also out of Twix bars. I kept my eyes on the sky and looked for the moon.
    When we were little kids, Mom and Dad took us on massive summer road trips to visit Titi Penny, Mom’s only sister, in Vero Beach, Florida. We’d drive down, our minivan divided into two sections: one for sleeping and the other for everything else. Lil’ Melvin and I fought over the last cookie in the snack bag while trying to outsmart each other in games of “I Spy.” Dad drove the entire way, focused on the highway numbers and how many miles he could squeeze out of each gallon of gas. But the best part—the part we’d beg for—was when Mom told us stories about her and Titi Penny spending summers in Puerto Rico. Their mom, my Grandma Herencia, sent them to stay with La Perla, her sister. Mom and Titi Penny chased lizards and hunted for coquis . They practiced arching their eyebrows to the heavens with La Perla’s make up, and learned the drinking songs of the male suitors that sang to La Perla in the moonlight. Puerto Rico seemed so far away, almost made up, but somehow the stories got us to Florida faster. The car rides always seemed to last longer than the summers.
    But this one, this joyless, motherless ride to the airport was nothing like those trips to Florida. As we sped along the Bronx River Parkway, the moon had still not shown itself. I wished it would emerge and offer a blessing. My heart ached, so I texted Lainie even though I knew she probably wouldn’t reply until tomorrow. She’d started her internship in D.C. with the College Democrats a week ago and we still hadn’t found a moment to talk on the phone. Maybe tonight would be different, maybe we’d get to talk somewhere between New York and Portland and D.C. My phone buzzed against my thigh, I flipped it open thinking it was Lainie. Instead it was my cousin Ava:
    Yo prima, heard you’re a big old out loud lesbiana. Viva la Revolución. Call me.
    Ava made me laugh; she and her constant talk of revolution. Even with small shit like Pop-Tarts coming out of the toaster on time and catching the bus, everything was “Viva La Revolución.” But damn, word traveled quick like the bochinche plague. Mom