17. Cori #2
She folded her arms across her chest and blew out a long breath.
“After Deck got out, the first thing he asked my family was not to tell you. When we told him it wouldn’t be a problem because no one had heard from you since you left for college, he was surprised.
I hadn’t thought much about it myself. People leave, right?
I'd looked for you on Facebook and Instagram, but—”
“I don’t have social media.”
“That’s what I told Deck. He seemed upset, so I did a quick search and got the basics through your company website. Found out you were still in the area. When I suggested he try to contact you, he bit my head off. It’s like he wanted to know you were okay, but he didn’t want to see you.”
That stung, but I understood more after seeing him last week. I thought about the unanswered letters I’d sent Deck before giving up.
“I don’t know what to say, Mari.” The nickname still felt familiar on my tongue. “When Deck got taken away… That night was just so awful—”
I didn’t know how to finish, and Marisol didn’t force me to.
“It was a crazy time when Deck first started getting settled. Once he bought that house and was talking to Johnny again, I figured you and he might cross paths, but it never happened. I hope you’re not mad at me for not telling you?
Deck was just so adamant. I didn’t want to overstep or piss him off by reaching out myself.
Since I hadn’t seen you since middle school, I wasn’t sure if you’d want that. ”
“Definitely not mad. And I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t reach out. I feel like such an asshole for staying away.”
Marisol gave me a wry look, unfolding her arms and leaning in closer.
“Cori, I realize I was just a kid back then, but I know there was something between you and my brother. What happened that night was terrible. No one can fault you for doing whatever you needed to. We all have our shit. And deep down, we all worry that the worst parts of our past aren’t done with us. ”
I stared at her for a long moment before my lips turned up. “How long have you been waiting to say that to me?”
“Since Rosa said you were coming. Pretty good, huh?”
“Yeah. Pretty good.” I shook my head. “Also, when did you stop calling your brother Artie?”
Sadness tinged her expression. “Since I got old and realized all his friends call him Deck,” she said quietly. “We’re still working on it, but I’d like to be that. His friend.”
I pushed down the lump in my throat as something else occurred to me.
“Wait. You said you’ve been thinking of reaching out since Deck started talking to my brother. You’ve seen Johnny too?”
“Once. He was sleeping on the couch at Deck’s when I went over to drop off some food. I didn’t wake him up, though, so I’m not sure if it counts. I haven’t actually spoken to him since we were kids.”
“Deck told you what happened to him last weekend?”
“Yeah. I hope that’s okay. Just the basics to me, my parents, and Emilio.”
I had updated Deck on Johnny’s entrance into rehab via the short, to-the-point texts we’d agreed on. It was reassuring to know his family cared too. Johnny needed all the people he could get.
I said as much to Marisol before adding, “A part of me thought turning my back on the neighborhood would allow me to reinvent myself. I didn’t realize until recently how much I missed certain things—Rosa, the Center, being comfortable in my own skin.
It’s hard to believe you’re not a little girl anymore. ”
“Well, you’re here now. That’s what matters.”
I hmphed. “I wish Deck felt that way.”
She winced. “It kills me to say it, but he’s not the same person you remember. Besides the obvious trauma from being locked up, since he got out, it’s like he’s been determined to convince everyone what a bad guy he is.”
“I got that message. He still blames himself for his friends and for what happened to me.”
“ Mamacita , he still blames himself for what happened to me .” Marisol ran an impressive set of neon-hued acrylic nails over the shiny pink skin covering her face and neck.
She’d had a ton of surgeries, but the left side of her mouth still tilted permanently downward a teensy bit, her most obvious scar.
“The fire was an accident,” I said instinctively, something we’d all been telling Deck for as long as I could remember.
“ Exactamente . And what happened with you was on Chi-chi, not our boys. Not to mention Johnny, Cruz, and Eliazar being responsible for their own decisions. But Deck is stubborn.”
The picture became clearer. Therapy had helped me move on with my life but hadn’t fully healed me.
Only time could do that. Walking away from the neighborhood, from Everett, had created a protective layer.
I’d insulated myself from everyone who knew, anyone who could remind me.
Deck literally went to prison over Chi-chi.
He hadn’t been able to walk away or relegate it to some deep corner of his mind.
“I think it’s good you’re finally talking to Deck,” Marisol said. “Even though it’s because something terrible happened to Johnny. And I have a plan to get you two togeth—”
She never finished her thought because Rosa came back with an armful of files. We ended our conversation, but Marisol gave me the knowing look of someone who reserved the right to revisit the subject later.
I spent the morning and most of the afternoon going through the numbers.
Rosa hadn’t been exaggerating. The books were kept meticulously, but that didn’t mean the news was great.
Once I dug in, I realized there was an overreliance on government funding that was drying up, as well as gifts from foundations that had become significantly less generous over the years.
The Center had historically held a huge spring fundraising drive, but it didn’t seem to have happened this year.
They’d also missed a few newsletter mailings, which brought in small donations and kept the individual donor list fresh.
They were in the final year of a major three-year grant, so that money would need to be replaced with something in the next fiscal year.
And there weren’t any major gifts on the horizon because Rosa hadn’t been doing her handshaking and meeting new donors routine.
A gala took place every year before Christmas.
I’d need to check with Rosa’s fundraiser, Ana, to make sure that the event was still on track.
The Center had enough money to make it through to the end of the year, but beyond that, the outlook was bleak.
I considered making a substantial donation myself.
I could probably provide enough funding to get the Center through the next year or two, but that wouldn’t be a long-term solution.
Since getting bought out of JBC, I would be considered wealthy by many standards, but not to the extent that I could fund the Center indefinitely or establish a meaningful endowment.
Rubbing my temples, I thought about what to tell Rosa.
The situation was critical, but I had to believe it wasn’t so dire that things couldn’t be salvaged.
We just needed to find a new income source that would be stable in the long term.
Plus, no more skipping newsletters and fundraising drives.
Those went a long way toward keeping the Center sustainable.
I found her in the kitchen preparing for snack time. When I'd attended, many of the kids who came didn’t eat very well at home, so Rosa always provided a “snack” that was more like a full meal. She pulled four sheets of baked ziti out of the ovens.
“Rosa?”
She wiped her hands on her apron after putting the trays on hot pads.
“? Qué te pareció, mija ?”
“Honestly, I think there’s a lot of work to be done, but it’s not a lost cause.
” Rosa brightened, coming over to give me a hug as I continued.
“But I think you’re gonna need more help.
I know you want to be with Lupe, and of course you should be, but if this ship is going to get back on course, we can’t keep letting the hole get bigger. ”
The corners of her eyes glistened. “I can’t afford more help, nena .”
I put my arm around her. “It’s okay, Rosa. That’s why you’re going to let me come work here for a while as a volunteer. I’ll be the extra pair of hands you need to support fundraising or programs or whatever, and you can do what you need to do for Lupe.”
Rosa’s internal struggle played out across her features. I knew her pride, but in the end, she’d do what was best for the Center.
“Please don’t think of it as charity,” I said. “I owe you a ton, and this is something I can do. The timing is right, and I know I can help.” She still looked unconvinced, so I declared unapologetically, “You can’t afford to turn me down, Rosa. Not if you want to save the Hope Center.”
That did it. She nodded as a few of the tears she’d been holding back finally fell. “ Gracías, mija .”