Chapter 29 #3
Two sets of arms are around me. I think I try to push them off, deny the comfort they give me, but their hold only tightens.
Their tears mix with mine, our collective grief filling the room.
I’m not certain how long we stay like this, but long enough for the tears to have dried up and for me to feel the fatigue settle in.
My mom’s the first to pull away, but I think Truett still holds me. His strong arms are a security blanket around me. Mom cups my face, forcing me to look at the pain I’ve caused her. The red-rimmed eyes and wet cheeks. I deserve to look at the damage I’ve caused, but that doesn’t mean I want to.
“Mijito, I need you to listen to me when I say this.” She pauses, as if waiting to see what I do.
Nothing. I do nothing, not capable of doing more than sitting here.
Her thumb gently caresses my cheek as she speaks.
“This alley wasn’t, and has never been, your father’s legacy.
He loved Spare Time, and he loved having you work beside him, but his legacy has always been you.
You are the greatest gift he has ever given to the world, and he loved you more than life itself, even if he showed it in ways you didn’t understand.
“If he knew how you were feeling, he’d be so disappointed. Not in you, but in himself. He wanted you to chase your passions and dreams, just as he chased his. That’s what your father wanted from you. That’s what I want from you, Ezra.”
Her words hit me in the chest, stealing the breath from my lungs. My world shatters around me as a new one grows. “What?” My voice is hoarse from crying, sounding like I’ve eaten sandpaper.
“You’re a good son. The best son,” my mother repeats. “And I love you, no matter what you want to do. But you need to let me in. You close yourself off and pretend everything is fine. I can’t fix what’s broken if I don’t know.”
In every version of this moment I’ve played out in my head, not one of them ended like this—with acceptance. I always imagined anger, disappointment, maybe even silence. But not this quiet understanding.
Then again, I never really gave my mother the chance to understand—never gave her the truth.
The same goes for my father. I saw how much they loved the alley, how proud they were of me for keeping it going.
And I clung to that. I let it become the story I told myself: that I was doing the right thing, carrying on the legacy for my family. That their pride was enough.
But I never told them what it was costing me.
For the past year, I buried every doubt, every sleepless night, every quiet ache that told me I wanted something different. I convinced myself that duty mattered more than desire. That sacrificing my own happiness was the price of being a good son.
Maybe that was the real trap—not the alley, not the expectations, but the prison I built in my mind. I locked myself in, afraid to step outside the familiar. Afraid that if I failed at something new, I’d prove every unspoken fear was valid.
But now it’s all out. And she knows. And somehow… she doesn’t hate me for it.
And somehow, I don’t hate myself for it either.
Her next words shock the hell out of me. “It’s your art, isn’t it?”
“How… how did you know about that?”
“I’m your mother. I know everything.” She winks, and the tension in the room immediately evaporates.
A strangled laugh leaves my lips. It borders on hysteria, but I needed to release it.
Truett is there, kissing my cheek. His eyes are red-rimmed from crying, and although he doesn’t say it, I know he’s proud of me. It’s in the way he looks at me, with unbridled love and affection. Something I have wanted for so long but never allowed myself to have.
But given my mother’s response to all of this, I’m learning I’m allowed to live the life I want without guilt.
Well, mostly without guilt. I doubt that will ever go away. That will be a work in progress for a while. But now I know I have people in my corner, wanting to see me succeed.
My mom wraps her arms around both Truett and me. I’m surprised to see her lean over and kiss Truett’s cheek. “You’ve been so good for my son, Truett. So good.”
“He’s been good for me too, Mrs. Jiménez. I’m in love with him.” Truett flashes me a toothy smile, and I want nothing more than to take him in my arms and kiss him breathless again.
“How about this,” my mom says, glancing between us, “we’ll all go home—Truett included. I’ll cook dinner, and afterward, Ezra, maybe you can show me your art and tell me what you plan to do with it all? I have a feeling it has something to do with the tattoos all over your body.”
My face flushes. I know without a doubt, I’m happy. Happier than I have been in a long time. I’m in love and opening myself up to my mom. Something I should have done a long time ago.
“I would like that.” I lean in to kiss her cheek. “I love you. I’m only the best son because you are the best mom.”
This conversation settles deep in my chest, anchoring something that has been drifting for years. There’s a new lightness where darkness once was. I won’t ever let myself get to that point again. Not now. Not after everything that’s been said.
Together, we leave the alley, my arm around my mother and my hand in Truett’s. And as the door closes behind us, it feels a lot like ending a chapter, only for a new one to begin.