13. Wyn
Wyn
I wonder what would happen if I just took this butter knife and stabbed myself in the neck.
Darting my gaze to the rude bitch that is Nan, elbow deep in some type of dough, I ponder on it. She’s kind of spry for her age, but I think if I were to plunge it deep enough, she wouldn’t be able to save me.
That’s how ready I am to get the hell up out of here.
I’ve been in Belize for over four months now. And because it is now spring, the little stretch of beach that Rico’s extended family owns now experiences rain while the sun is out.
It’s storming right now. Miele went with NiNi and Reno to visit family in Mango Creek, so I’m stuck with Nan.
There’s a wedding party at the hotel, and she has me rolling up silverware while she goes over the rehearsal dinner menu with her head chef. When the chef leaves, Nan starts rolling dough, and humming some song that doesn’t even sound like a real song.
What a mean old lady. She refuses to speak English, even though I know she speaks it fluently. She’s not fooling me. Ain’t no way she was Spanish only in the Birch. But for whatever reason, she is Spanish only here. Even when everyone else responds in English.
And she doesn’t let anyone translate for me either. She just speaks slow like I’m the one in the wrong, or points her gnarled fingers at whatever she wants me to do. That’s why I’ve been avoiding her.
Today is my unlucky day.
This hotel isn’t even that big. Why am I rolling so much silverware?!
Thunder cracks into the sky before Mars runs into the kitchen and hugs my side.
I put down the roll and try to rub my fingers in his curls, but they’re a little matted.
“I think it’s time to do your hair, boo,” I say as his eyes stretch at me.
Nan’s voice is sharp as she says something in Spanish, that has Mars tightening his hold on me.
See! She knows English. She’s just being rude.
“Can you brush my hair, Wynter? Pleeeeease?”
Nan growls something that has Mars’s face falling, and I’m over it.
Turning my head, I scowl at her. “Yes, Mars. I’ll comb your hair and get you ready for bed. Let’s go.”
Nan balls her face up at me, but doesn’t say anything as I get up. My muscles scream as I try to shake them out. Every morning, Rico has me doing some type of work out. If it’s not raining, we’re on the beach, and if I’m too tired, I’m still walking or jogging two miles.
What he has me training for? I have no idea. But I’m tired all the time, and I know that’s part of the reason why I’ve been so… blah.
Sobriety is overrated. It’s almost as overrated as eating right and exercising.
Mars curls his hand around mine and leads me through the hotel back to the family villa. He’s still subdued, and that makes me angry.
Nan’s a bitch all around, but usually, she’s the nicest to Mars. However, that still only goes so far. From what I’ve seen, his hair is always a source of tension for everyone who takes care of him.
My poor booski is tender headed, and has the nerve to not only have so much hair, but want it long. He, Rico, Miele, and Nan fight over it often, and seems to be the only time she really disciplines him.
Even now, since Miele’s been gone, his hair is in these twisted plaits with more hair out of the braids than in. That just won’t do.
When we get to his room, I take a seat on his bed and pull him to me. “I’ma detangle your hair during your bath. It may hurt, but you have to let me get all the knots out or I’ll have to cut your hair.”
Mars’s face is long as he nods slowly, pulling at my heartstrings. Him and Deucey would be thick as thieves. My eyes flit to the Scooby Doo I have tatted on me, and my heart pangs even more.
I miss my nephew bad. There’s no purer love than that from a child, and I know everyone says this about the kids they know, but Deucey really is something special.
“You like Scrappy Doo too?”
Mars points to my tattoo, and I smile through my warring emotions.
“My nephew does. We call him Deucey Doo…” Tears gather in my eyes as I clear my throat.
“Actually… you know your dad was the first person to call him Deucey Doo. He loved Scrappy Doo.”
Mars lights up, and runs to his toy chest, producing a Scrappy Doo plushie and showing it to me.
“Tío told me, that’s why he got me this. But I can’t remember the story.”
“Okay, tell you what; you don’t cry and let me do your hair, I’ll tell you what I remember about Fredo and Scrappy. How’s that?”
Mars grins and nods, before placing the plushie on his bed and running to the bathroom.
Fuck. Grief is suffocating.
The door creaks, and I look up to find Nan glaring at me. Rolling my eyes, I stand and grab some pajamas for Mars and leave her ass right there. I’m picking up Spanish here and there–it’s impossible not to. But I’m not giving into her mean ass. She wants to speak? She knows what she needs to do.
Thankfully, Mars is serious about hearing about his dad. He lets me wash and detangle his hair with almost no protests as he plays in the bath. After lotioning himself and putting on his dinosaur pajamas, we climb into his bed and he lays in my lap as I begin to part his hair.
“So, you know how Scrappy is Scooby’s nephew, right? Well, Scooby Doo was the only cartoon character Fredo liked. He and Rico were known around the way as Luney Tune, but your dad didn’t like any of them.”
I feel Mars’s breath start to even out as I braid plaits into his hair.
Different times of me braiding Fredo’s hair like this fill my mind.
He didn’t wear braids nearly as much as Rico, but the times he would call me sis and smile his crooked smile and ask me to braid his hair, I always said yes.
Even after me and Set began to mess around.
It almost made me feel like nothing had changed, if only for an hour or two.
“So, when my sister had her son, and everyone would buy babies like plushies and stuff, Fredo got him a Scrappy Doo from the fair. He and my sister were like brother and sister, too, so he’d call Deuce his nephew.
And since Scrappy Doo was Scoob’s nephew, he started calling Deuce Deucey Doo.
It stuck after a while, and now, we call him Deucey for short.
I don’t even know if he knows where it’s from anymore… ”
I’m sure Rico got Mars that Scrappy plushie. I finish the last braid on this side, twirling his ends with my finger before grabbing the plushie.
There’s a little tag in the seam. When I flip it over, RTA is written in permanent marker on it.
I’m barely holding myself together as I rearrange Mars in his bed and tuck the Scrappy under his arm. He clutches it tightly, but otherwise sleeps hard and through everything.
Still, I wish him sweet dreams and close his door as quietly as I can.
When I turn, Nan is in the hallway. Her brows aren’t pulled in the center, but she’s still serious as she regards me.
“Goodnight,” I say, trying to be the bigger person.
She just stares at me. Maybe she doesn’t know how to speak English.
And now I’ve been mean for no reason.
She gestures toward the kitchen, and begins to shuffle out of the hallway. Curious, I follow her.
There’s already two steaming cups of tea on the island counter. She rounds it, leaving the one in front of the stool for me.
I climb onto the seat and wrap my hands around the cup, warming my fingers. She blows on the top of her cup before she takes a sip. Even without the calming smell, I know it’s lavender tea. It’s all she drinks–that and water.
“Nan,” I start, “I know you know I don’t know Spanish–”
“Are you learning?” she asks, her accent thick on her tongue.
I can’t help it. My eyes bulge. I thought it was a fluke, me remembering that I could understand her once upon a time.
Clearly not.
“Um–yeah–”
“Not quick enough,” she spits, drinking another sip of her tea.
I take a sip of my own, closing my eyes as the sweetness of the added sugar caresses my tongue.
“You remind me so much of Ayani.”
My eyes pop open.
“Rico’s mother,” she amends, taking another sip before placing her cup on the counter. “That’s not a good thing.”
I tilt my head and sure enough, she continues.
“She loved Pooh Bear more than she loved herself, too. Even when some of that love turned to hate, it wasn’t enough.
She couldn’t leave him, even when she couldn’t be with him either.
All that love and hate drove herself crazy until she couldn’t take it anymore.
And you’re right on the same road as she was. ”
We finish our tea in silence. Rico rarely talked about his mother. I found out on a fluke about her funeral, and even that was a lot. After he and Nutty left and they picked Pooh off the floor, it was a blur of everyone trying to act like a brawl didn’t just take place.
But the little I’ve been around Pooh, I believe it. How easy it is to become enthralled by an Alvarez man. And then you add children to the mix.
Did Ayani Alvarez kill herself? Or did she just give up?
Nan peeks into my empty cup and then gestures for it. “Rico is sending me away. I’ll see you in a couple weeks.”
I hand her the cup and nod. She washes them both out then leaves them in the sink.
“For what it’s worth, I hope I’m wrong about you, Wynter Snow. I hope you’re stronger than you act.” Her gnarled fingers tap my arm before she shuffles away.
When I turn to watch her go, my breath stalls. How long was he standing there? Did he hear our whole conversation?
He only has eyes for Nan, who ignores him completely. He watches her until I hear her room door close, then disappears down the hallway as well, slamming his own door.
Yep. Definitely heard everything.