Taina
SOMETHING TO LOSE
There are always ways to get shit done.
Mami used to call me trouble. Or her version of it was to label me fresca . But I knew exactly what she meant.
It wasn’t that I was trouble, it was that I was resourceful. She hated that I’d always find a way to get my way.
In adulthood, it’s only gotten worse. The more my mind expanded, the more creative I got.
I’m sitting in my car with Berto in the passenger seat. He offered to drive, but once I expressed my desire to do so, he got in the passenger seat and called Emiliano to let him know our plans.
We’re driving through the outskirts of the city, on a mission. Only, Berto has no idea.
He thinks I’m taking us to pick out new furniture for the house. And I am. But there’s a reason I opted not to drive on the highways.
And that reason is about to come up on my right.
Berto is thankfully on his phone, ignorant of the rising panic in my chest. Because if I see him, I might hit him with my fucking car.
I slow down just a little, not enough for my passenger to notice, and when it comes into view, my nostrils flare at the sight before me. Not only are there no cars in the driveway nor on the street, there’s a fucking For Sale sign on the goddamn lawn.
What the fuck!?
This is what playing fucking house gets me.
I pull the car over, and press my forehead to the steering wheel. If I don’t count, I’ll have a panic attack. That’s the last thing I need Berto to tell Emiliano.
“Taina?” Berto asks, reaching his hand over to rub my shoulder.
I don’t shirk away; I don’t tell him not to touch me.
Rather, I let his touch anchor me. I cling to the sound of his voice, as if it’s a life vest, buoying me back to the surface.
“Are you okay? Do I need to call Emiliano?”
I shake my head and take a deep breath through my nose. “Can…” I take another breath and exhale slowly through my mouth. “Can you drive? I’m coming down with a migraine,” I lie as effortlessly as I can for someone as emotionally distraught as I am.
I’ve worked for months—nearly a year—tormenting him; to prepare him for his torturous end. I wanted to be his poltergeist, I wanted to haunt him the way he has me, until his entire life has fallen apart at the seams and I’m the one standing there with the broken stitches in my fists.
I wanted him to know I’m coming.
And instead, I fell in love and fucked it all up. Now this is going to be far messier than it had to be.
?Maldita sea!
I get out of the car without another word, and as I pass Berto, I swear I feel someone’s eyes on me.
The hair on the back of my neck prickles to life, and I whip my head toward the house to see if anyone is there, but I don’t see anyone in the dark windows.
I can’t shake the feeling, even as I climb into the passenger seat and buckle my seatbelt .
The more time that passes, the less control I have over this situation. I feel like my control is slipping and I can’t do anything about it but watch it all fall away.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Ms. de la Matta?”
I peer over at him, gray strands twisted in his dark-brown hair. His tan skin is wrinkled around his eyes, and I know if I look at his hip, I’ll see his gun holstered there.
“Let’s go home,” I tell him, hating the knowledge that more people than I thought could want me dead. I thought I was past fear.
But fear reemerges when you actually have something to lose. And for the first time in such a long time, I do.