Chapter 4 #2
The pickings are slim. Two machines are completely empty and the other three are in desperate need of a restock.
Nothing new has been added since we started visiting, but then again, most people aren’t in the mood for snacks when they’re here.
I’m not sure how long the snack cakes, candy bars, and chips have been sitting in these machines, but you can’t be picky in a place like this.
I shove in the crumpled dollars and punch in the numbers for a cinnamon bun clinging to the top row because it’s the only thing that looks like it won’t get stuck on the way down.
Papi is grinning by the time I make it back to my seat, cinnamon bun clutched tight against my chest. He gestures for me to unwrap it, waiting until I have it sitting open in front of me to pick the phone back up.
“Happy birthday to you…” he begins once I’ve picked my own phone up. It’s already uncomfortably hot in the room, but my cheeks go so warm, I’m worried I’ll pass out when I realize what he’s doing.
As he continues, he amps up the volume. Until he’s loud enough to catch the attention of the other groups seated around us.
To his right, an inmate with a shaved head and a neck tattoo joins in.
Then another, and another. Then an older woman wiping her tears away two rows down from me.
Until almost everyone in the room has joined in for a rousing chorus of “Happy Birthday.” The guards eye us warily but don’t interject.
As much as they might try to take it away, happiness isn’t off-limits.
I can’t help but look around in awe as everyone stumbles over themselves when they get to my name, Papi proudly proclaiming “Dina!” for everyone to hear.
So many of the places in my life feel devoid of joy.
School. Sunny Hills. Home. Here. But in those few moments when everyone in the room sings “Happy Birthday” to me, I feel it.
The blush in my cheeks slowly trickles away.
My heart stops pounding. I’m not overwhelmed by the sudden attention or weighed down by my fears.
All I feel is that same fleeting happiness as when Kai asked me to the dance.
I know it’ll be gone soon, but it feels so good to have it for even a moment.
Papi looks incredibly proud of himself when the song comes to a close and several people give me a polite round of applause.
“Happy birthday, mija,” he says with the same beaming smile from all the photos we once had on the mantel.
The same smile that the media twisted into something wicked.
The same smile as mine. “I know I’m a few days late, but…
” He points to the cinnamon bun and gestures for me to help myself.
The first bite is so sweet it should make me wince, but all I can do is grin.
The dough is harder than it should be—stale, most likely.
But just like the cupcake Mikey gave me, it’s perfect. “Hopefully this makes up for it.”
“Definitely,” I tease, wishing I could nudge my elbow into his ribs like he always did when he teased me.
I wonder if I’ll ever be able to touch him again.
Ever feel the warmth of his hand on my shoulder or the strength of his arms wrapped around me, twirling me in a circle.
It’s a sour enough thought to make the sugar in my mouth turn to ash.
My smile falters as I shove those thoughts to the back of my mind.
That’s the kind of thing meant to haunt me in the middle of the night, not now when I should be enjoying my few moments with him.
If Papi notices the shift in my smile, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead he props his chin up on his closed fist as I pick at my cinnamon bun. “School been all right?”
I nod stiffly, toying with a hardened piece of glaze as I weigh what to say next.
“I think I made a new friend,” I finally confess, choosing to play it somewhat safe.
Before everything, Papi was my confidant.
My safe space. As worried as I am about Mami finding out the truth, I can’t resist the urge to tell someone—him—a small piece of it.
“Really?” he asks with a raised brow. I’d be offended by how shocked he seems if I wasn’t so self-aware.
As much as I might’ve inherited from him, I’m not social like he is.
Not able to win people over with my charm and my stories.
And Mami’s overprotectiveness didn’t make things any easier.
After Joel, I would’ve said Papi was my best friend. Now they’re both gone.
I nod again, not trusting my voice not to give me away.
That doesn’t dull Papi’s enthusiasm, though.
“He invited me to a dance,” I finally settle on, hoping I won’t regret revealing that my new friend is a boy.
Papi always assured me that anything I told him stayed between us.
Hopefully that still applies now. “But Mami won’t let me go. ”
Papi softens at the mention of Mami. His smile crumples into a sympathetic frown. He sighs as he droops slightly in his seat, nodding in understanding. “I’m sorry, mija,” he mumbles, as if it’s his fault.
I shrug sheepishly, wishing I could hold Papi’s hand and squeeze. Reassure him without words that I don’t blame him for this. For any of it. But I know if I say it out loud, he’ll shoot me down, insist that it was his fault. He’s still defending Mami even now. After everything.
“Be easy on her, Dina,” Papi says again. It’s not the first time he’s made that plea. Or the tenth. Maybe not even the hundredth. I grit my teeth, resist the urge to protest. Why do I have to be easy on her when she’s never been easy on me?
Papi doesn’t say anything and neither do I.
Anger seethes inside me at the thought of yet another excuse for Mami being so strict.
Like it’s something we should admire. Like she’s doing us a favor holding us so tight—making it so we’re afraid of the world.
Of strangers. Like we haven’t learned anything from Joel.
Guilt swallows that anger whole, drowns it deep, deep, deep to the lowest pit in my stomach. She just wants to protect you, I remind myself, but it’s Papi’s voice ringing in my ears. No one knows better than Mami how hard life can be when you’re not protected. All she wants is to keep us safe.
“I know the world isn’t kind to you right now,” Papi says after what feels like hours, his voice weathered.
He looks at me so fiercely it’s like he’s trying to melt the glass so we can finally hold each other again.
“But you deserve good things, Dina.” His voice cracks slightly, and a piece of my heart cracks too.
Tears sting the corners of my eyes as he slowly swims out of view.
Until all I can make out clearly is the sound of his voice.
“You deserve a life as beautiful as you are.”
My throat, eyes, and head ache as I struggle to hold back my tears.
I let out a choked laugh and nod, just to give myself something to do to avoid thinking about the tears, about the way his voice sounds so helpless.
Moments like these make it feel impossible that the world sees Papi as a killer.
The person who kissed the crown of my head whenever I tripped and fell.
The person who makes the best arroz con gandules during the holidays, and always makes sure to set extra aside just for me.
The person I didn’t realize was my security blanket until he was gone.
How could they look into his eyes and see all those horrible things they sprayed on our walls? Devil. Monster. Murderer.
Papi is the best person I’ve ever known. Now all anyone will know him as is a monster.
I nod with more force once my tears are safely at bay.
“I know,” I mumble as I swipe at my cheeks even though I didn’t let any of the tears slip out.
Something shifts inside my chest as I inhale sharply and ground myself until my vision is clear and the pressure has subsided from my temples.
The fear that haunted me on the drive up here feels like a distant memory.
Papi is right. Even though our lives have gone to shit, I still deserve good things.
Starting with the only boy who has ever made me feel seen.