said you really needed to hear what was in there."
"Sure, right. I'll listen."
Margie put her long fingers on the top of the box. "Kati, you're not hearing me. I found the note, but the tapes were gone. I looked all over. Turns out the tapes were shoved under the bed. Way under. I only found them because we were looking for Antonia's shoes." She looked over her shoulder at Abuela who was closing the top drawer. Antonia opened another drawer.
Margie turned back to me, her voice softer, more urgent. "I don't know why your grandmother doesn't want you to hear what your mother wanted to tell you. But you're an adult. And Antonia wanted you to hear whatever is in these tapes."
I thought of Abuela's reaction to my mother asking me if I had missed her, the sense that these were the kinds of things you never discussed with a daughter. Margie turned to Abuela. "Don't you think Antonia would want Kati to listen to the tapes?" she said.
"I'm sure," said Abuela sharply, glaring at Margie. Then she turned away, rummaged in the plastic bag, pulling out a hideous pair of fluorescent pink sweats, price tags still attached. Antonia took them from her and started to fold them.
"You should listen to them, Kati," Antonia said quietly, her back to me. She put the sweats in the drawer and reached for a matching shirt from the bag.
I reached in the shoebox and pulled out a tape. The block writing was neat and precise, almost to the point of looking like it had been typed out. "Antonia. To Katarina. Tape 1."
I slipped it under my covers and put the lid back on.
The nurse outside Pilar's room greeted us with a stern look well on its way to becoming a full grimace. "She's very tired and she's had a tough day. You can come in but only for a minute."
It was dark in the room, the only light pouring in through the tall window across from the bed. The slim tree outside dipped back and forth silently, dancing in a wind I couldn't hear. Pilar laid on her side under the covers, her back to me. I walked over to the chair near her bed.
"Pilar? It's me, Kati."
She nodded her head a fraction but didn't say anything. I looked back at the tree framed in the window and took a deep breath.
"I'm sorry, Pilar. I—"
"Don't." Her voice was low, coarse.
"But I just..." My words died on my lips. She lay perfectly still under the blanket and I fought the desire to stare at the area below her hip, to see what was missing. I turned away quickly, my head throbbing in response to the sudden movement. In the bright rectangle of the window the tree began to swing wildly, green leaves flying off the tips of branches.
I looked back at Pilar. She had rolled over onto her back, looking at me with her gray eyes, frowning.
"Wow, Kat," she said, "you look like hell."
"I guess the airbag took the whole exploding thing a little too literally."
Pilar shrugged.
I swallowed dryly. I reached for her hand, stopping just short. It was something I'd learned from my mentor on the ropes course. When in doubt, reach out only halfway. "What pisses me off is what happened to you."
"No shit." She reached down to the area where her left knee should be and slammed a hand down on the blanket. It sunk down, too far down. "No more stick shifts."
She reached back toward my outstretched hand, patting it. After a few silent moments, she turned back over, away from me.
"I'm not ready, Kati. I'm just not fucking ready, okay? I know it wasn't your fault. But I'm not ready to deal with it."
My eyes stung and I tilted my head back, a pain circling my throat like a noose. It was my fault, Pilar. It was my fault. Hot tears spilled down my cheeks. "I understand. I'll be back around."
I heard her broken inhale, a choked sob. "They never even found who hit us..." she let her voice trail off.
I looked back to the window. The tree dipped and twisted in the silent wind.
Chapter 7
When I got back to my room I felt like I had hiked for miles instead of walking down two long
"Sure, right. I'll listen."
Margie put her long fingers on the top of the box. "Kati, you're not hearing me. I found the note, but the tapes were gone. I looked all over. Turns out the tapes were shoved under the bed. Way under. I only found them because we were looking for Antonia's shoes." She looked over her shoulder at Abuela who was closing the top drawer. Antonia opened another drawer.
Margie turned back to me, her voice softer, more urgent. "I don't know why your grandmother doesn't want you to hear what your mother wanted to tell you. But you're an adult. And Antonia wanted you to hear whatever is in these tapes."
I thought of Abuela's reaction to my mother asking me if I had missed her, the sense that these were the kinds of things you never discussed with a daughter. Margie turned to Abuela. "Don't you think Antonia would want Kati to listen to the tapes?" she said.
"I'm sure," said Abuela sharply, glaring at Margie. Then she turned away, rummaged in the plastic bag, pulling out a hideous pair of fluorescent pink sweats, price tags still attached. Antonia took them from her and started to fold them.
"You should listen to them, Kati," Antonia said quietly, her back to me. She put the sweats in the drawer and reached for a matching shirt from the bag.
I reached in the shoebox and pulled out a tape. The block writing was neat and precise, almost to the point of looking like it had been typed out. "Antonia. To Katarina. Tape 1."
I slipped it under my covers and put the lid back on.
The nurse outside Pilar's room greeted us with a stern look well on its way to becoming a full grimace. "She's very tired and she's had a tough day. You can come in but only for a minute."
It was dark in the room, the only light pouring in through the tall window across from the bed. The slim tree outside dipped back and forth silently, dancing in a wind I couldn't hear. Pilar laid on her side under the covers, her back to me. I walked over to the chair near her bed.
"Pilar? It's me, Kati."
She nodded her head a fraction but didn't say anything. I looked back at the tree framed in the window and took a deep breath.
"I'm sorry, Pilar. I—"
"Don't." Her voice was low, coarse.
"But I just..." My words died on my lips. She lay perfectly still under the blanket and I fought the desire to stare at the area below her hip, to see what was missing. I turned away quickly, my head throbbing in response to the sudden movement. In the bright rectangle of the window the tree began to swing wildly, green leaves flying off the tips of branches.
I looked back at Pilar. She had rolled over onto her back, looking at me with her gray eyes, frowning.
"Wow, Kat," she said, "you look like hell."
"I guess the airbag took the whole exploding thing a little too literally."
Pilar shrugged.
I swallowed dryly. I reached for her hand, stopping just short. It was something I'd learned from my mentor on the ropes course. When in doubt, reach out only halfway. "What pisses me off is what happened to you."
"No shit." She reached down to the area where her left knee should be and slammed a hand down on the blanket. It sunk down, too far down. "No more stick shifts."
She reached back toward my outstretched hand, patting it. After a few silent moments, she turned back over, away from me.
"I'm not ready, Kati. I'm just not fucking ready, okay? I know it wasn't your fault. But I'm not ready to deal with it."
My eyes stung and I tilted my head back, a pain circling my throat like a noose. It was my fault, Pilar. It was my fault. Hot tears spilled down my cheeks. "I understand. I'll be back around."
I heard her broken inhale, a choked sob. "They never even found who hit us..." she let her voice trail off.
I looked back to the window. The tree dipped and twisted in the silent wind.
Chapter 7
When I got back to my room I felt like I had hiked for miles instead of walking down two long
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