3. Mariana
Mariana
I ’m rushing into the restaurant when my heels break, and I nearly face-plant onto the floor. Because, of course. Why is it that when you’re already late, the universe has to throw one last humiliation for good measure?
I hit snooze on my phone so many times this morning that it just…gave up on me. By the time I finally dragged myself out of bed, I was already late to meet Anna, so I threw on the first thing I could find and sprinted out the door.
Now, I look and feel like a complete disaster—limping, off balance, frustration bubbling under my skin. Then I see her.
Anna is sitting at our table, her dark eyes lighting up as soon as she spots me.
Her black hair, once long and flowing, is now cut short just below her chin.
She’s wearing small gold hoop earrings, a red crop top, loose-fitted jeans, and sneakers—effortlessly cool, just like always. God, I’ve missed her.
For a second, I hesitate. It’s been too long.
Too many missed plans, and too many ignored texts when I was caught up in someone else’s world.
A flicker of guilt twists inside me, but before I can dwell on it, Anna is already up and running toward me.
I don’t even have time to think—I hobble forward, one heel in my hand, and then we collide, wrapping each other in the kind of hug that makes everything else disappear.
We hold on tight, and suddenly, we’re laughing and jumping up and down like we’re teenagers hanging out in our old bedrooms.
For months, our only constant has been our Thursday night FaceTime calls.
No matter how many texts went unanswered or plans fell through, we always had that.
But, despite all the FaceTime calls, there’s nothing like this.
Nothing like having her right here, yet beneath the joy, there’s an ache.
Because deep down, I know why it’s been so long.
Andrew always talked about the importance of family, of surrounding ourselves with people who love and support us. I used to believe him. I used to think he meant it. But what I learned, far too late, was that he didn’t want me to have those things—he only wanted me for himself.
At first, it was subtle—a comment here, a disapproving look there.
Little things that made me second-guess the people I loved.
Until, one day, I looked around and realized he had pushed every single one of them away, and I hadn’t even noticed until it was too late.
The people in my life weren’t a support system; they were a threat.
I swallow hard and squeeze Anna just a little tighter. When we pull back from the hug, I realize we’re both crying.
I laugh, swiping at my face. “Look at us, tontas, crying in front of everyone.”
Anna cups my cheeks, studying me like she’s trying to read every emotion running through me. “Mari, I’m so sorry. I’m here for you, okay? Whatever you need.”
I nod, tears slipping down my face.
I’m so grateful for Anna. No matter what, she’s always stuck around. Through every high and crushing low, she’s been my anchor. Friends like her are rare, really; she’s more like the sister I never had but always wanted.
When Papi died, it was Anna who sat beside me in that suffocating funeral home, her hand wrapped around mine, steady and unshakeable. She was the one who spoke to the funeral director when Mami and I couldn’t find the words, the one who made sure we ate when grief hollowed us out.
When she found out what Andrew was doing to me, she was there.
She didn’t scream or curse at me for staying, though I know she wanted to.
Instead, she sat with me in silence, waiting for a moment when I was ready to talk.
She begged me to leave, tried to make me see that love wasn’t supposed to hurt, that it wasn’t supposed to leave me questioning my own worth.
But when she realized I wasn’t going anywhere, she didn’t walk away in frustration like so many others did.
She stayed. The only one who knew—the only one I let in, while I kept the truth buried from everyone else, including our families.
She called me, even when I stopped answering.
She sent texts every morning, sometimes something simple like Good morning, other times longer messages reminding me that I deserved more than the life I was living.
When I wouldn’t respond, she’d send voice notes instead, her voice gentle but firm, telling me stories about her day, slipping in reminders that she loved me, that she wasn’t going anywhere.
She mailed me care packages, little things she knew would make me smile.
A book she’d just finished and needed me to read.
A candle that smelled like the vanilla chai lattes we used to get in high school.
Once, she even sent me a box of my favorite pastries, packed carefully with ice packs and a note that simply said, For when you need a taste of home.
She made sure that no matter how many times Andrew tried to convince me that I had no one, I knew the truth. He could push and pull and manipulate all he wanted, but he would never erase her.
And now, with Mami’s time slipping away, I know she’s going to be here again, helping me through all the pain that comes with knowing that I’m about to lose her. Anna has never wavered. She’s my constant, and I love her for it.
The waiter stops by, and the first words out of Anna’s mouth are, “Mimosas! And keep ‘em coming, please.”
She flashes me that wicked smile—the same one she always had when we were kids, right before she talked me into doing something guaranteed to get us in trouble with our parents.
“Last time we had a keep ‘em coming kinda day, I ended up with a tattoo,” I say, raising an eyebrow at Anna as the waiter walks away.
“And what a beautiful tattoo it is!” she huffs, arms crossed over her chest like she’s still defending her decision all these years later.
We each have the word ‘Promise’ inked on the side of our pinkies, a permanent reminder of the vows we made to each other long before adulthood tried to pull us apart.
We got them on my 21st birthday. Anna had turned 21 three months earlier and insisted we had to go all out for mine. And by “all out,” she meant bottomless margaritas, standing on sticky bar floors, and, of course, a spontaneous trip to a tiny tattoo shop down the street.
I can still hear her voice in my head, slurring slightly as she held up her pinky and said, “We’ve made so many pinky promises, Mari. What if we made one that never goes away?” It had sounded profound at the time, and maybe it still was.
The next morning, when my mom saw it, I thought she was going to blow a gasket. People are always surprised when I say she still expects me to ask for permission—even as a full-grown adult—but I just tell them it’s a Latiné mom thing. Besides, I know it’s just because she cares.
Anna tilts her head, watching me carefully now, her playful smirk softening into something gentler. I know that look. She’s debating whether to bring them up.
“So…” she begins, drawing out the word like she’s testing the waters.
A prickle of anxiety creeps up my spine.
“Do you want to talk about anything? Andrew? Your mom?”
My stomach twists.
Do I want to talk about them? No. Not particularly. Should I? Probably. But I don’t even know what to say. My heart is wrecked—so much has happened in such a short amount of time, and I have no idea how to get through any of it.
I exhale slowly. “Can the right answer be that I want to stay in bed and do nothing?”
Anna grins, leaning back against her chair. “Sure! But that’s not like you, so it would have a lot of people worried. Including me.”
She’s not wrong. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been on the go—always moving, always chasing the next thing, never letting anything hold me back.
But now, I wonder if I’ve just been running. Running from the past. Running from the things I don’t want to feel. Running so hard for so long that I never stopped to ask myself if I was actually getting anywhere. And right now? I just feel tired. So damn tired.
“True. I definitely don’t want to talk about Andrew, and honestly, I’m not really sure what to say about my mom.
” I exhale, staring down at my hands. “A part of me knows this is real and happening, but another part of me is still in denial. And I’m so damn mad that she waited so long to tell me.
But at the same time…I kind of get it. I don’t know. My feelings are a mess right now.”
Anna nods, her gaze steady, like she’s absorbing every word.
“All of those feelings are completely fair and valid. You’ve gone through a lot in a very short amount of time.
It makes sense that you’re feeling conflicted.
” She pauses, like she’s choosing her words carefully.
“But you know Lucia loves you so much. She’d do anything for you.
I’m sure she just didn’t want to add to your pain. ”
I sit up straighter, my chest tightening. A familiar frustration flares in me, and I part my lips, ready to argue—she has to stop trying to protect me from everything. But before I can get a word out, Anna lifts a single finger, stopping me in my tracks.
“I’m not saying what she did was right,” she says, eyes locked onto mine.
“I’m also not saying what she did was wrong.
If I were in her position, I honestly don’t know what I would have done.
But I do know that she believes she did the right thing, even if you disagree.
And while I think you should allow yourself to feel all of it—be angry, be sad, hell, schedule a full-on ugly cry—I also know you.
You want to make every moment with her right now count.
So let’s lean into that feeling. Let’s make these last moments special. ”
I sit there quietly for a moment, letting her words settle over me. She’s right. I know she’s right. My mom has never done anything without the best of intentions—especially when it comes to me.
I swallow hard. “You’re right. You always know what I need to hear.”
Anna flashes me a grin, “I got you, girl. You can always count on me to get you back on track.” Her laughter is light, but the weight in my chest lingers.
“Anyway,” she says, shifting gears, “How did Josephine react when you told her you were moving back to Lake City?”
I sigh, rubbing my hands over my face. “She was sad, of course. I feel bad that I left without giving her enough time to find my replacement, but she understands. After losing my dad and then Andrew dying…she knows I need to be here with my mom. I’d never forgive myself if I stayed and something happened. ”
I leaned back in my seat, unease settling in my stomach. Leaving Seattle was the right choice. The only choice.
Anna reaches across the table, squeezing my hand.
“I get it, and I know you’re probably tired of me saying this, but…
” she exhales, voice softening, “I am so sorry for everything you’re going through.
I know there isn’t a single thing I can say to take away your pain, but please, please remember that I’m here.
Don’t shut me out, and don’t try to handle everything on your own.
Everyone in Lake City loves you and your mom. We want to help in any way we can.”
I nod, a small smile tugging at my lips. This place, these people, my home…Sometimes, I wonder why I even left Lake City in the first place. We’re a small town, but we love each other fiercely. When something happens, we show up.
Anna must sense my need for a change of subject because she launches into a story about her students.
She’s a middle school teacher, which means she has an endless supply of ridiculous stories to keep me entertained.
“One of my kids actually tried to convince me that a dog ate his homework,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“Like, really, kid? That’s the best you got? ”
I laugh. “People are still using that excuse?”
“Oh, but it gets better,” Anna smirks. “We live in a town with, what, 300 people? Everyone knows everyone. And I know for a fact that this kid doesn’t even have a dog.”
I burst out laughing. “Did you call him out?”
“Of course. But because I’m the best teacher ever, I gave him a chance to make it up. And then I reminded him that I know his mama, so he better not ever lie to me again.
“That poor kid.” I shake my head, still grinning.
Anna grasps dramatically. “Poor kid? Poor me! This is the level of nonsense I deal with every single day.”
I roll my eyes, but it feels good—letting myself laugh, even if just for a moment.
“Oh! I forgot.” Anna perks up. “Tomorrow, I need to head over to Ink & Paper. Hilda’s holding onto some books for my students. Want to come with me?
I nod, warmth spreading in my chest. “Definitely. I love that place.”