“She left me.” My voice suddenly breaks, and I suck in, clench my jaw. I’m so tired of crying, of feeling this way. I’m emotionally wrung out, and I’d rather be angry if I have to feel anything at all. I’d rather throw things or break stuff.
“I told her to choose me or her boyfriend, me or drinking, and she left me.”
“It’s not your fault she left, Ri,” Grandma says seriously. My head jerks. It might not be my fault, but I still wasn’t enough for my own mother. And that makes me mad at her, but also, in a way, at myself.
Grandma stands. “I have an idea.” Before I get the chance to respond, she heads back to her bedroom, leaving the memory box behind. She returns with a notepad and a pen.
“You are my writer. Tell her.” Grandma slides the pen and paper toward me.
My mouth falls open. “Mom’s gone. Tell her what? And how?”
“This isn’t for her, not really.” Grandma looks at the blank yellow page. “It’s for you. Tell her how you feel.”
I’m angry at Mom; that’s how I feel. She lied to me, or at least kept the whole truth from me. She put herself first.
But Mom’s not the only one who lied. I lied to myself, too, when I pretended what I was doing was okay. Lying to Grandma, sneaking around with Mom, doing drugs. I told myself doing all those things was the only way I could be my own person, step outside of Grandma’s control. Blamed her, rather than taking a good, hard look in the mirror and admitting I was behind the choices I was making.
I squeeze my hands, remember what it felt like to hold Mom’s. To sit with her at the beach. To know I was hers, and she was mine.
I blink back a few tears and stare at the notepad. I could write a letter telling Mom the truth. Maybe she’ll see it someday. If we find her address and mail it. What if she begs me to forgive her? What if she tells me she never wants to see me again?
I miss her so much.
I swallow. I won’t cry anymore. I look up at Grandma, who’s watching me. I nod and take the pen.
Grandma leans down and kisses my cheek. “I love you, baby. So much. So very, very much.” She looks down at the paper and then back at me. “I’ll leave you to it.”
As Grandma disappears down the hallway, I clutch the pen in my fingertips and begin.
Chapter
Twenty
Six months later
The smell of the huevos rancheros Grandma cooked for breakfast still wafts through the kitchen, even though I already stuffed myself full twenty minutes ago. I duck under Grandma’s arm and take her place in front of the sink.
“Disculpe,” I tell Grandma, nudging her out of the way with my hip and taking the dirty plate from her hands. “Puedo limpiarlo.”
Grandma laughs and pretends to scoff. “Con permiso.”
I smile and make room for her beside me. “Tu lavas. Yo seco.” I don’t try to say the words extra fast. I let them linger in the air. Even if my pronunciation isn’t perfect, it doesn’t matter. Because Grandma can understand me, and I can understand her. Plus, necessito la práctica.
“¿Pero no vas a llegar tarde para ver a tus amigos?” She takes a plate from me and then dries it with the dish towel, setting it aside.
I glance at the wall clock. “Oh shoot.” I correct myself. “¡Me voy”—I dash to grab my backpack from the dining room table—“ahora! ¡Lo siento!”
Grandma chuckles. I rush to her and let her envelop me in a hug, the dish towel against my back as she says, “Te quiero mucho, Ri.”
“Te quiero mucho, Abuelita.” I pull away with a smile, swinging my backpack up off the ground as I head for the door.
Grandma calls out to me. “Dile a Nina y Brittany que vengan a cenar esta semana. ¡Puedo preparar sus enchiladas favoritas!”
“Sí, Abuela.”
I rush through the living room—past Grandma’s overflowing box of knitting and crocheting projects. She’s been creating new stuff all the time, ever since she made my navy-and-gold scarf. When she gave it to me months ago, I looked at her in shock, almost not daring to believe. “For UCSB school colors,” Grandma said with a smile, before pumping her fist in the air comically. “Go, Gauchos!”
I love the scarf so much that I wore it all winter, including when I got Grandma to visit the Art Walk with Nina and me. We took Grandma to a booth where a woman sells her sewing work and after I showed off my scarf, the two of them became fast friends. She’s been asking Grandma to make things for her to sell in the fall. And now the knitting box is overflowing with Grandma’s new projects.
“¡Hasta luego!” I call to Grandma, smiling as I head out the door.
I drop my backpack on the park bench as soon as I arrive. Cassie and Brittany are laughing at something Nina is saying.
“Nice of you to show up.” Nina smiles at me. “I was just telling Brittany that she better not tell Miguel she considers herself a DDR expert.”
I laugh, remembering my and Miguel’s dance off at Nina’s house last week. “I would have never guessed that your boyfriend is so good at Dance Dance Revolution.”
Suddenly, I feel someone jump from behind me. Miguel yells, “Boo!” Nina and Brittany laugh as I practically fall off the bench.
Miguel is beside himself with laughter as I softly push his shoulder. Edgar’s camera bounces off his back as he jogs to catch up, Carlos trailing behind. Miguel must have run over when he realized we were talking about him.
“Oh, I’d say her boyfriend is muy bueno at a lot of things!” Miguel sets the basketball he’s holding on the ground, wiggles his eyebrows at us before leaning in and planting a sloppy kiss on Nina’s lips.
“Ew!” Cassie and Brittany say in unison as Carlos reaches us. He types something in his phone before pocketing it.
I step around Nina and Miguel so that I’m standing in front of Edgar.
“Cool camera,” I say. “Do you take all the girls’ pictures?”
Edgar grins at me and lifts the camera, snapping one of me. “Only the most beautiful ones.”
Cassie turns to Brittany. “I can’t even with them.”
Brittany rolls her eyes faux dramatically. “Barf.”
Edgar steps back, looking down at the ground as if in serious thought. “They’re right. We better stop. If my girlfriend were to see—”
I launch myself into Edgar’s arms, unable to stay away any longer. “I can take her,” I say. And then I kiss Edgar, ignoring the gag noises coming from Miguel and Nina behind me.
Carlos chuckles at us. “I think those were some of the corniest lines I’ve ever heard.”
“I thought Miguel was bad,” Nina says, talking over him, “but these two are the actual worst.”
I laugh at my friends, not caring that my and Edgar’s PDA is the butt of the joke. Because we’re all here, together.
It’s been months since that day at my mom’s, when Nina and Brittany followed Grandma to come to my rescue. Months since Grandma and I went back and I saw Mom’s abandoned apartment. When I realized she left me again.
I remember how awful that felt, but Grandma and I picked up the pieces of our broken hearts and started to rebuild. Together. Working on trust. Working on allowing each other in. Telling the truth. No more secrets.
I look around at my friends sitting on a park bench in front of a blacktop basketball court, and I smile. Even without my mom, I’m not alone.
Cassie grabs a bag of Doritos out of her backpack and pops it open. “Well, as fun as it is watching the four of you make out, Brittany and I were thinking it’s time for a girls’ night. We can watch a movie or something at my place later?”
Brittany beams and I put my arm around her.
“What?” Miguel sputters. “No fair, you can invite your girlfriend to girls’ night, but we can’t come?” He looks at Carlos, as if in search of backup. Carlos shrugs. He does not care about missing girls’ night. Miguel returns his scandalized gaze to Cassie. “Why don’t you bring Mia around more, anyway? You’re afraid we’re going to steal her from
you or something?”
Cassie rolls her eyes dramatically, swatting Miguel’s hand away from her Doritos. “No!” She laughs. “I actually like Mia and don’t want you, fool, to embarrass me!”
Miguel cradles his hand like Cassie has wounded him severely.
Edgar gives Cassie a winning smile. “So, I guess that means I’m not invited? You’re looping me in with Miguel and Carlos?”
Nina raises an eyebrow at Edgar, ignoring Miguel’s affronted scoffs. She walks to the side of the bench that Brittany and I are sitting on and bumps her shoulder against mine. “If you’re there, we won’t be able to talk about you.”
Edgar laughs and my chest flutters.
Cassie crumples her empty bag of chips. “So, are we going to just sit around, or are we going to finally play?”
“I call first in,” Carlos says quickly. “Just because we have an odd number, how is it that I’m always the last to play?”
Cassie and I look at each other and smile. He might not be in the doghouse anymore, but it’s still fun to give Carlos a hard time.
Miguel grabs the basketball off the ground. “Fine, but Nina and Cassie can’t be on the same team because—”
Cassie snatches the ball out of his hands. “Because you’re afraid you’ll lose!” She makes a run for the basketball court, bouncing the ball and taunting Miguel as she goes.
The rest of us grab our stuff as we follow them, Edgar and me trailing behind the others. A light breeze blows my hair, and the California sun glistens off the blacktop as we approach.
Edgar takes my hand and I squeeze his. My thoughts return to what Grandma told me after Mom left, what she repeated over and over, so many times that I can almost hear her deep voice whisper it in my ear right now.
“It’s going to be okay, Ri. We’re going to be okay.”
I smile. I believe her.
Dear Mom,
I’ll never understand why you left me, not when I was a kid, and not now. You’re my mom, and I’ve always needed you. I wanted to know you so badly. My whole life I’ve told myself stories about you, who I thought you were, how I thought you wanted me. I told myself you’d be around if you could, that something was keeping you away. And I imagined one day you’d come back for me.
And then when you told me it was Grandma who wouldn’t let you be around me, I felt so angry at her, but glad that I was right. You wouldn’t leave me by choice. You loved me so much.
Now I know that wasn’t true. That was just what I told myself because I couldn’t face that you weren’t here for me. And now that you’ve left again, I feel like a huge part of me is missing.
I wish you’d come back. I’m going to learn Spanish, Mom, with or without your help. I’m going to graduate from high school, and I’m going to go to UCSB and study writing. I’m going to become a journalist and travel the world. I’m going to do all these things, even if you aren’t here to see them happen. But I hope you will be. You can be, if you leave John, the drinking, and the lies behind. I want you to choose me.
But until you do, I don’t want you around. So, you can hate me like you hate Grandma and Grandpa, or you could come back.
The choice is yours. I love you.
Ri
Acknowledgments
It feels like I have been writing this book for many years, long before I started typing Ri and her grandmother’s story. Like Ri, I’m biracial and I grew up grappling with many similar challenges when figuring out my identity. Moreover, as I wrote, my heart was full of love for my grandmother.
Grandma, I often think about how you wanted to be a doctor, and you were going to college before you and Grandpa left Mexico and came here. I remember asking if you ever wished you’d stayed, finished college, and had the kind of career you dreamed of, and you told me, very simply, that you didn’t. You said that your children had more opportunities in the United States and that to you, that was most important. When I think of you and the mark you’ve left on me, I remember whenever I visited your job at a nursing home. You worked hard as a cook without complaint. I recall how when nonprofits, churches, or anyone less fortunate asked you for money, you gave it, even when you had so little for yourself, living in a tiny studio apartment. I think of the time you bought me cheesecake from Jack in the Box for my first birthday at the group home, and you brought enough for all the other foster kids. You told them they could call you Grandma too.
Despite the heartbreak you’ve suffered—the losses of your daughter and then your grandson—you’ve never become bitter, Grandma. You’ve been a wonderful example of faith, generosity, and love. In many ways, you are the reason I made it out of a childhood full of darkness. That is why this book is dedicated to you, Maria del Carmen Almanza. I even named both main characters, as well as Señora Almanza, in this book after you! Te quiero mucho, abuelita bonita. Thank you for calling me every day, without fail, to tell me that you love me, and for always believing in me.
I have many other people to thank, starting with my most wonderful literary agent and agency, Sarah Gerton and the rest of the Curtis Brown team. Sarah, your enthusiasm for this story, and for my reasons for wanting to write it, gave me the support I needed to make it happen. I truly couldn’t ask for a better partner, cheerleader, and friend. Every day, I’m grateful for what you’ve done for me and my career. Thank you!
Next up, I want to thank my incomparable editor, Carolina Ortiz. Carolina, from our first phone call, it was clear that you had the vision Everything Within and In Between needed. You got what I was trying to say, and you had the empathy and skill to guide me and my characters on the journeys we needed to go on. ¡Muchas gracias y abrazos, Carolina!
My sincerest gratitude goes to Nicole Moreno, Cara Norris-Ramirez, Gweneth Morton, Jessie Gang, Lisa Calcasola, Sean Cavanagh, and the rest of the wonderful team at HarperTeen for making this beautiful book the absolute best it could be. Thank you to Carina Guevara for illustrating the cover of my dreams!
I am indebted to the sensitivity readers who helped me to write and revise this story with the cultural care necessary, as well as to my Las Musas friends who have been so supportive and helpful in this endeavor.
Thank you to Rachel Breithaupt for helping me with the Spanish in the classroom and for being an amazing friend. Adriana Esparza, I can’t thank you enough for sharing with me about your family’s traditions, listening to mine, and inviting me to start some of our own with our daughters together. All my thanks to Paulina Batani Cooke for letting me practice Spanish with you. I’m also grateful to Hannah Rael, Rita Chang, and Talisa Hail-Hoover for talking with me about the feelings I’ve had that made me want to write this book. Evergreen thanks to Katie Watson and Carolyn Bolton for cheering me and my writing on. I’m so lucky to be friends with all of you!
Thank you to Autumn Krause and to Kathleen Chappel for critiquing an early draft, and to Drew Hoover, Amy Albano, Michael Tachco, Devlin Durkin, and Ruth Rowe for the overall encouragement as I wrote this book.
Nikki Grimes, I will always be grateful to you for believing in and mentoring me.
In addition to my grandmother, I’m grateful to the rest of my Almanza family, especially Aunt Diane, Uncle Rudy, and Yvonne, for their support of my writing.
To my sister Rachelle, I’ve enjoyed the conversations we’ve had about this book’s subject matter and learning about some of our shared feelings or experiences that I didn’t realize we had when we were growing up. Thanks for being my sister and friend.
Big thanks to my adoptive mom Barb for the steadfast encouragement. I’m also grateful to my aunt Luann for reading my work and cheering me on.
To my in-laws, I couldn’t have asked for you to be more enthusiastic about my writing! Thank you to the Gs, Aunt Sue and Uncle Tom, as well as Aunt Tina. DeeDee, I’m glad you’ve started “shipping” my characters—that’s the kind of investment I like to see! Don, thank you for the Clorox wipes. Please see Don Abrams in chapter twelve for your payment in full. Carol, I’ve said before that
you do more to publicize my books than anyone who doesn’t get paid to work on them. I am honored and truthfully very proud that you are always eager to read my writing. Your support always makes me smile. Thank you.
Corgus, I appreciate you staring lovingly at me while I write. Hadley, I wrote the earliest version of this book years before you were born, and, since then, you’ve gone from sleeping beside me as I typed to screaming whenever I got my laptop out and trying to bite it. I can’t tell you how much I love when you sit beside me when I work and you hit the keys next to me on your toy computer. I hope one day you’ll read my books and will be proud of me. Robby, thank you for sharing Santa Barbara with me and in some ways inspiring parts of this book. And thanks for reading it and making sure I got the landmarks right, as well as helping with all the camera stuff! I’m able to live this dream because you support me in doing so. I am grateful for every sacrifice you make and every word of encouragement. I love you!
As always, I’m thankful to God for giving me this life, for every good thing.
About the Author
Photo by Robby Barthelmess
NIKKI BARTHELMESS is an author of young adult books, including The Quiet You Carry and Quiet No More. While growing up in foster care, Nikki found solace in books and writing. A former journalist, Nikki lives in sunny Santa Barbara with her husband, daughter, and a diva of a corgi. When not reading or working on her books, Nikki loves advocating for the rights of current and former foster youth, jogging near the beach, and trying to convince her abuelita that feminism means it’s okay that her husband does all the cooking.
She can be found online at www.nikkibarthelmess.com.
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Books by Nikki Barthelmess
Everything Within and In Between
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