The Book of Broken Hearts Read Online Free PDF Page B

the sidewalk. Papi watched them catch the air current and mosey on down the road.
    “This way.” He crossed the street to Grant’s Pharmacy and ushered me inside. He grabbed a shopping cart and the warning bell in my head gave a faint tinkle, but before I could ask any more questions, Mari called.
    Mari was not the kind of sister you casually forwarded into voice mail.
    “Ready for Mari’s Internet Dating Fiascoes, take seventeen?”
    She launched into the story without waiting for a response, talking fast while I trailed Papi through the store—he cruised past the coolers, through the foot-care aisle, past the vitamins and fish-oil capsules, right to baby central.
    “So not only was he missing a tooth,” Mari was saying when we reached the diapers, “but he was totally married.”
    “ Eww .” It was the only word I’d managed so far, and Mari giggled.
    “I know, right? Like he couldn’t get a crown or something?”
    “I meant the married part. Hang on.” I covered the mouthpiece and turned to Papi. “Almost done?”
    “Ah!” He smiled and pointed to his head. “Wrong aisle. This way.”
    “. . . the last guy at least had all his teeth.” Mari chattered on, oblivious. “But he lived in his mother’s basement in Capitol Hill, so obviously that was going nowhere.”
    “Papi, what are you looking for?”
    “Papi’s there?” Mari said. “Let me say hi.”
    “We’re . . . shopping.” I left out the part about us standing in the feminine-products aisle, scanning pink boxes as if they revealed a secret code while some poor kid stocking pregnancy tests tried not to stare.
    “What else are you guys doing today?” she asked.
    “Coffee with the girls. Maybe . . . fishing? I don’t know. What about the basement guy?”
    Papi grabbed a box of tampons off the shelf. “Four girls,” he told the stock boy. He waved the pink-and-white box like a flag.
    “Who’s he talking to?” Mari asked.
    I switched the phone to my other ear and reached into the cart to retrieve the tampons. “Just the stock guy.”
    “We need those, Juju.” Papi took the box from my hand and dropped it back into the cart, then added a few more. The store kid smiled awkwardly. Thankfully, I didn’t recognize him from school.
    “Anyway,” Mari said as if we weren’t approaching code-red in the tampon aisle, “I’m deleting my Match profile.”
    I tried to steer the cart away, but Papi wouldn’t budge.
    “Do yourself a favor, son.” His voice rose as he swiped boxes of feminine-hygiene products into the cart faster than I could put them back.
    “Juju?” Mari asked. “What’s going on?”
    My throat tightened as I held off a sob. I couldn’t do this without her, without Celi or Lourdes. Mom was working so much and Papi was getting worse and everything was falling apart. . . .
    “Papi’s upset,” I said. “He’s freaking out and—”
    “Where are you?” Her tone went high alert. “Can you call Mom?”
    “She’s at work. What do I do?”
    “What about Zoe, Juju? Jude!” Mari was frantic. “Do I need to call the police?”
    Police? The word sent a jolt through my heart, shook me out of my panic. Cops would make things more embarrassing for Papi—for all of us. I had to handle it. We could buy the tampons if we had to—stock up for the next decade if it would get us out of here quickly.
    I took a deep breath. “No. I got it covered. Sorry . . . falsealarm. But you’re breaking up. Call you later!” I clicked the phone off and slipped it into my pocket, reaching for Papi with my other hand.
    “If you ever have girls,” he told the stock boy, “buy shares in this company. By the time you’re my age, you’ll own Tampax, Kotex, and any whatever-ex out there.”
    “Okay, Papi,” I said. “Good advice. Let’s get home for lunch.”
    “Lourdes, your sisters will kill me if I go home without this stuff.” His voice was getting louder with every word.
    “We’ll come back later,” I said.