“Loud!” I exclaimed, pushing him away.
He ignored me and kissed my neck, my shoulder, my elbow.
I began laughing, and so did he. We were half-asleep by the time we were finished having sex. I remember him twitching inside me as he softened, his body heavier than usual on top of mine. I let him crush me, feeling that otherwise I might float up to the ceiling. I had the spins and I couldn’t quite focus my eyes. “Baby,” Dave said into my neck, and I thought: I don’t deserve this. This should have belonged to some other woman, and I’ve taken it from her.
I didn’t want to give it back, though. He pressed me down into the mattress and I thought: Mine, mine now, mine forever.
The next morning I went over to see Daddy as usual—we didn’t have a honeymoon because I felt sure my father could die any second. He was always telling me how much he needed me, how he was afraid to be alone very long with the home aides. They don’t respect me, he said once. They steal things. And things did go missing in the house every now and then, so I believed him.
The aide—Stephanie—told me that my sister had called for me. She played me the message on the machine. It was the last time I heard my sister speak. The message started with several long seconds of static, and then Robin said, “Oh…getting married!” She laughed. “Hi…getting married! Leslie said to tell you—I mean, I said to tell Leslie. Why? You need to consider that, honey. What happens at the end of it? Are you gonna wear a big…a big dress? I looked up this person you’re getting married to. David Flores. I don’t know which picture is his but I’m sure he’s a real kind of…a real type of guy. I almost went tonight, did you know that? I have a friend who was going that way and she could have driven me, but I thought…no…Leslie wants to feel pretty. Don’t you? And you don’t want to have to tell me what to do. You hate that. So I’m not there.” She paused and there was a crackling noise. “I love you,” she sang into the phone. “I love you, Leslie—” The message cut off.
The way she said it dug itself into my brain afterward. I couldn’t get it out. It was like a horrible, creepy jingle. I love you. I love you, Leslie.
The last thing Daddy said to me was that he was going to take a nap and not to leave the house.
I didn’t remember the last thing my mother said to me. I didn’t remember anything about her death. It was as if I had gouged it out. Why had I done that?
She drowned, I’d told Mary.
I twisted the volume dial. The radio was still on. “Esta tarde vi llover” filled the car, a big melodramatic Hollywood crescendo. It drove out the jingle—that’s how big it was.
* * *
—
Dave’s parents lived in the North Valley, one of the neighborhoods clustered underneath the curving arm of the Rio Grande. Their house was a single-story ranch-style with a basketball hoop at the foot of the driveway that had belonged to Dave and his sisters as children and now was collectively owned by the MacGregor and Da Silva kids from down the street. When I pulled into their particular cul-de-sac, Dave’s mom, Teri, and his sister Cadence were squatting in the wide flat driveway with Eli and Cadence’s twin daughters, Riley and Jessa. Teri was painting an overalls-clad Riley’s face with glitter paint while Jessa looked on, and Cadence had Eli in her lap, rubbing him down with white-cast sunscreen.
My windows were down. I heard Teri say, “Look, it’s Aunt Leslie.” Riley kept her eyes closed. Jessa turned to squint at me as I parked next to the mailbox.
“Hi,” I called, popping the door open. “I’m a little late, sorry.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Teri said, dabbing purple dots across Riley’s nose. “We’re doing slow cooker, there’s no rush. Are you hungry? Do you want to just stay?”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I said. “I’ve made you do too much work already today.”
“Eli’s not work,” Cadence said from the steps. “He’s a quiet boy, huh?”
Eli just looked at her, cow-eyed.
“Anyway, we’re making carnitas…” Teri singsonged.
“Carnitaaaas…” Jessa echoed. “Riley, don’t move!”
Riley had opened her mouth to join in just as Teri drew the body of the butterfly down her mouth.
“Oh, Riley, you look like the Joker,” Jessa lamented.
“No-o.” Riley giggled and tried to wipe at her face.
“Not your shirt—” Teri warned, then gave up. “Okay, you can wear one of mine for dinner and we’ll put yours in the wash.”
“We should probably head out pretty soon,” I interjected from the end of the driveway. “It’s getting late.”
“Yeah, Mom,” Cadence said. “Leslie has to head out.”
Teri made a face. “Well, I promised Eli I’d paint him as a tiger.”
“He doesn’t remember,” I said.
“Sure he does.” Teri made grabby hands at Eli, who lunged out of Cadence’s arms and toddled toward her. “See? You just sit over there with Cadence and we’ll make you a tiger to take home.”
Riley leapt up from the concrete and dashed toward the front door. “I want to see what I look like!”
“You’re not gonna like it,” Jessa opined, following her.
“Don’t get paint on anything!” Cadence called after them. “If you want to take it off, use paper towels, not the real towels.” She brushed grit off her palms. “I should go in with them.”
“No, stay with us,” Teri said. “We never have Leslie here.”
“That’s true,” Cadence said, eyeing me. “Why don’t you come over more often, Leslie?”
I was trying to sit down on the concrete while keeping my knees together and avoiding scraping my heels; I fumbled.
“She’s busy,” Teri said, dipping her paintbrush into the Eeyore cup next to her. “She’s still getting back into her job after taking the time for this tiger. Don’t bug her.”
Cadence looked away. “What noise does a tiger make, Eli?” she asked.
Eli craned his neck toward Cadence when he heard his name.
“Hold still, honey,” Teri told him, grabbing his chin.
“Eli,” Cadence persisted. “What sound does a tiger make? Is it quack? Quack, quack?”
Eli laughed.
“I don’t think he knows his sounds, Mom,” Cadence murmured. “Does he do it at home, Leslie?” She still wasn’t looking at me.