Names I Call My Sister

by Mary Castillo

  “Ay, God save me from this family,” Grammy begged, and then looked down from the ceiling to Sela. “Look there.”

  She grabbed Sela’s head and turned it toward the DJ.

  “Will you get off me!”

  “Don’t you see?”

  “See what?”

  “Mija, how do you think El Tigre is going to tell Robert?”

  “I don’t know—” Oh shit, Sela thought. He was going to play that tape on the live video feed. She whirled around. “You think?”

  Grammy crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s what I would do.”

  Sela ran back through the lobby and then down the halls that circled around into the main piano bar.

  Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. She had to help Dori.

  Walking on rubbery legs, she made it into the Crown Room, hoping against hope that Dori had found Eric or that there was no tape and no one would be the wiser. If anyone could do that, it would be Dori. As always, Sela realized, she had let herself get so swept up in some bullshit fantasy that she couldn’t see the truth.

  Blinded by panic, she walked right into Dori.

  “Do you have it?” she said in a rush. “Please say you have it.”

  “I can’t find him. I have Security searching for him, but—”

  “But he said—”

  “More than likely he left,” Dori said, her eyes darting about the room. “Maybe he chickened out.”

  Sela tried to absorb some of her sister’s calm but it wasn’t working.

  “I’m out of here,” she suddenly declared, unable to face her parents when the shit hit the fan.

  “Did you find him?” Grammy said, blocking Sela’s escape.

  Dori shook her head, and Sela couldn’t stop the shivers chasing each other over her skin. Grammy drew her spine straight like a general about to walk with her soldiers into battle.

  “Whatever happens, I will stand behind you,” she said.

  “You always did,” Dori said, then noticed the tears sliding down Sela’s face. “Hey, come on.” She put her arm around Sela’s shoulders. “It’s not your fault.”

  “What’s going on here?” Mom asked. “You three have been as thick as thieves.”

  Dori, Sela, and Grammy slammed their mouths shut, not knowing what to say.

  “Brenda,” Grammy began. “You need to sit down—”

  The Shakira song that had been playing abruptly cut off and the feedback from the microphone sent hands clasping startled ears.

  A familiar voice swept over the crowd and unbuckled Sela’s knees. “Everyone, I’d like your attention for a moment.”

  Eric was on the dais in front of the DJ. He raised a glass of champagne to Robert and Dannie, who stood in the center of the dance floor.

  “It’s not every day you find someone who loves you,” he started, and then paused meaningfully. “It’s not every day that you find someone you think you know better than yourself. Who you think trusts you and you can trust back.”

  “Who’s that?” Mom asked.

  Grammy Cena made the sign of the cross and began muttering a Hail Mary.

  Dori released Sela and began pushing her way to the stage.

  “I had that once with Dannie, and…” Eric paused, and curious murmurs hissed around the room. “And I don’t know why or how I lost that. So Robert, I think you should know what will happen to you when she finds someone better.”

  The chandeliers switched off. The screen flashed on, and then there was Dannie on all fours with a naked Eric behind her.

  For a moment, total, uncomprehending silence filled the ballroom.

  “Turn off the tape!” someone shouted as five hundred people got to see Dannie in a way that only her gynecologist should have seen her.

  A group of men surged at the stage while Robert and Dannie stood frozen in the center of the dance floor, their silhouettes trapped against the glaring video screen.

  Sela knew that the images of her sister-in-law with Eric would be forever burned onto her brain.

  “Oh my—” her mom managed, her eyes glued to the screen.

  “Well, now I know why Tío Fermin was coming around the house,” Grammy said with a sigh. “That Dannie definitely ain’t no virgin now.”

  Dori had Eric’s arm twisted behind his back just as his feet hit the floor to escape the snarling crowd.

  “You want to live?” she asked as she shoved him toward the kitchen doors used by the wait staff.

  He might have had a hundred pounds and a foot on her, but in her arm lock, he had no choice but to comply.

  “You’re a little late, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice strained from the pain she sent up into his shoulder.

  “Dori!” Pete called. He held the kitchen doors open for her. “I’ll hold them closed.”

  Pete followed her and Eric into the clattering kitchen. Outside the metal doors, she heard chairs and tables being overturned in the ballroom.

  Eric grunted when she pushed him out the back door into an alleyway of generators.

  “You made your point, now go,” she said, out of breath.

  Eric held his shoulder, eyeing her like a wounded tiger.

  “Your brother should be grateful,” he said huskily, as if he were about to cry. “I gave up everything for her.”

  In that moment, Dori saw herself in him. Hopelessly in love with someone who had toyed with him. She couldn’t hate him or pity him because they were two sides of the same coin.

  “All you had to do,” she heard herself saying to him, “was tell her good-bye. Robert would’ve figured her out sooner or later.”

  Then she walked back through the kitchen.

  Half of the ballroom had emptied. Robert stood on the stage, his face frozen in shock as his fist dribbled blood from the broken pieces of the plastic tape.

  Dannie had sunk into her white skirts, her hands protecting her face as her maid-of-honor crouched protectively over her. Those who hadn’t left stood there holding their gifts in their arms, staring at her with expressions of disgust, pity, and wicked glee.

  “Is this what you—”

  Her dad’s voice turned her head. He advanced on Sela, who stood at the edge of the dais.

  “Did you do this to your brother?” he shouted, his spit hitting Sela in the face.

  Dori broke into a run as his fist came up, aimed at Sela, who was frozen in place with fear.

  “Stop!” Mom’s voice lashed out, stopping him.

  “Don’t you dare,” Dori growled, holding his raised arm in place. “You’ve done enough.” She swept in then, to shelter her sister.

  “I tried to tell you,” Dori said, staring her father dead in the eye. “If you should be hitting anyone, it should be your precious daughter-in-law.”

  Dannie’s muffled groan turned everyone’s attention back to her.

  Disgusted, Dori rushed Sela out of the ballroom. Grammy followed, holding their purses.

  “I’m taking you home with me,” Dori said as they crossed into the lobby.

  “I’ll be okay,” Sela replied through chattering teeth.

  “You’ll be better if you’re not alone.”

  “Bring her to my house,” Grammy insisted. “Both of you will stay with me.”

  The sharp air hit their faces, and Dori took in a deep breath.

  “Get us a cab,” she ordered the valet. Grammy opened her mouth in protest, and Dori said, “None of us are in any condition to drive.”

  “You can let me go,” Sela said in a stronger voice.

  Dori released her, and was relieved when Sela didn’t topple over from the suspicious stares of the wedding guests waiting for their cars.

  She wished they’d hurry up with the cab. She never wanted to see such a horrible humiliation again. Dannie wasn’t one of her favorite people, but even she didn’t deserve that. The sooner they were away from all of this, the better.

  She closed her eyes, thinking about what might be going through her brother’s mind. It was o
ne thing to find out that the woman he loved had lied to him; it was a whole new level of ugliness to find out in front of his wedding guests.

  “Dori,” Pete said behind her.

  She immediately pictured Eric, the beaten spirit in his eyes when she’d tossed him out of the kitchen. She would do better, she thought. She would never be that broken. And so she faced Pete for the last time. “Good-bye, Pete,” she said softly.

  He opened his mouth and his eyes were suspiciously wet. His fiancée smiled with understanding at her under the wide porch that spanned the front of the hotel.

  Dori felt Sela’s hand sneak into hers and hold on as Pete walked to his fiancée.

  “Don’t look,” Sela said as she pulled her away.

  They said nothing as Sela pushed her into a minivan taxi. Dori had cut the last thread holding her to him. She went still before allowing herself to imagine looking at another man and not comparing him to Pete.

  The driver helped Grammy into the back, and suddenly Robert’s voice shot out through the melee. “Hey wait!”

  His jacket flapped open as he ran around the startled bumper of a Mercedes. “You knew?” he asked roughly.

  “We tried to stop him,” Sela explained. “We didn’t want you to find out this way.”

  “Roberto!” Dad hollered, and he and Mom hurried down the steps. Dannie and her parents were hot on their heels.

  “I need to get out of here,” Robert said, looking around as if he were lost. “I can’t—”

  Sela grabbed him and hauled him into the van, slamming the door.

  “Where are you taking him?” Dad asked from outside, his voice muffled by the window. “Come back here!”

  The window buzzed down, and Grammy Cena shouted, “Get away from this cab or I’ll send your Tío Fermin to your house!”

  “Let them go,” Mom said, surprising everyone. “Just let them go.”

  “Brenda—” Dad started, his voice sharp with annoyance.

  Dori snapped back to life and threw open the door. “Get in,” she ordered her mother. Her father was so startled he didn’t react in time to stop her.

  “There’s no more room for you,” Dori told him, then slammed the door shut.

  The door locks engaged and they lurched forward as the driver hit the gas, speeding off into the misty night. Sela had twisted around from the front passenger seat with a smile on her face.

  “Aren’t you glad to be back in the insanity?” she asked.

  Dori shook her head in wonder that the explosion of her brother’s wedding brought them together in a unified front. Maybe it would last the night, maybe it wouldn’t. Either way, Dori thought perversely, that yes, she was glad to be back.

  WHAT STAYS IN VEGAS

  BERTA PLATAS

  Chapter 1

  “Honey. Tony, you need to let go. Believe me, I know how hard that is.” I tried to keep my tone even, when what I wanted to do was scream.

  “No. No.” The little words came out in a whimper.

  I peeled my smelly two-year-old nephew from my leg and sat him on the foyer floor. His heavy diaper squelched. It was obvious that I wasn’t cut out for motherhood. I wasn’t cut out for much except being a flight attendant, my dream job since high school. And after seven years, that dream was over.

  That was why I was in the doorway of my sister’s Atlanta McMansion, wondering why my toddler nephew had answered the door.

  The whimpering escalated into an impressive scream. All I’d done was ask where his mommy was. Apparently, the whereabouts of his mother, my older sister, was a traumatic thing for little Antonio. I understood how he felt.

  I needed Susu, too. I needed her solid good sense. Her cooking. Her hugs. And there was a good chance that she’d turn me away, and then I’d be out of options.

  I could always sit on the foyer floor and wail with Anthony. It looked kind of therapeutic, actually.

  “He needs his diaper changed.” His sister Heidi was standing in the doorway, looking disgusted.

  I’d always wondered why my sister had ended up naming her daughter Heidi. I hoped it was a literary connection. It sure wasn’t out of longing for some alpine homeland. We were both born in Miami, Cuban-Americans a generation away from any homeland-pining, and my brother-in-law Carl was from Boston, of Irish and German stock.

  Heidi wore front-pleated orange and pink plaid pants and a polo shirt that matched nothing I’d ever seen. The fashion wrongness of it made me cringe.

  I held my arms out to her, needing a hug, even if it was from a supercilious six-year-old. Say that fast six times. “Aren’t you going to kiss me?”

  “I don’t think so. Tony’s diaper leaked on your shoe and it stinks.” She backed away silently and vanished down the hall.

  I examined the unspeakable smear on the top of my suede Moschinos. No screams, no cries of anguish from me, even though these were the only shoes left to me except for a pair of ratty sneakers that I’d found in my grandfather’s tackle box. I was totally beyond hysteria.

  “Heidi, come back here!” I yelled. “Where’s your mom?”

  A door slammed in answer.

  Great. I followed the echo. I’d never visited my sister in Alpharetta, one of Atlanta’s affluent northern suburbs. The house was huge, thousands of square feet of airy, soaring spaces on a lot that barely extended past its footprint. The kind of place you got if you were married to a successful stockbroker.

  A huge golden retriever galloped past me toward the front door. I listened for Antonio’s scream, but heard only giggles. No rescue needed, thank goodness. I’m not good with dogs. Or toddlers.

  It didn’t narrow my job search, since I wasn’t looking for child care or vet tech opportunities. I put those jobs right up there with stripping on the list of careers I wasn’t cut out for. There were plenty of jobs that didn’t involve children, pets, or pole dancing.

  I walked through the house, sidestepping toys and pizza boxes. Susana must be totally depressed. She was normally such a neat freak. I hated to add my woes to hers, but she was the only person I could turn to.

  Our mother had died when I was in high school, and Dad was in Europe with wife number five. That left only Susu to comfort me, and I needed it by the pitcher, not the glass.

  “Susu? Baby, it’s me. I need a teensy favor.” No answer. I pushed open the door to the master suite.

  Her bedroom was enormous. A pillared bed dramatically draped in gauzy curtains was plunked in the middle of a sea of eggplant-colored carpet. It was unmade, with mounds of bedclothes in the middle. Was she there? I inched toward the bed, then took a big breath, unaware that I’d been holding it. Empty. She wasn’t huddled under blankets, feeling sorry for herself, sleeping away her depression.

  It was so boring to deal with the drunk and depressed. My last roommate had been a drinker, and it made her choice of bedmates my morning surprise. Who would I see while I made coffee? An executive? A dirty-jeaned cowboy? My female boss?

  That last one had probably gotten me on the short list for the first round of layoffs at the airline. I’d been a flight attendant for three years, ever since I’d left college out of deep loathing for higher math, and my pay had risen steadily during that time.

  My plan had been to work, travel, and have fun. Then I’d retire and travel and have more fun. That agenda was trashed two months ago, when the airline’s finances had tanked and I was out of a job. Since then I’d lived on my severance pay and my credit cards, and I’d looked for a job I could do. I couldn’t type, didn’t know a computer from an ATM and didn’t have a college degree.

  What I had was great legs and maxed-out credit cards. Despite my distaste for math, I could also do currency conversions in my head, which gave me hope that I could snag a job at the Atlanta airport’s international concourse, just until the airlines started hiring again.

  “Susu? Are you in here?” A toilet flushed and I scooted back out the door, pretending I’d just stuck my head in. The bathroom door was flung open and m
y brother-in-law Carl stepped out.

  I stared, unable to speak. Carl was in white socks and tighty whities and nothing else. And those tighties were stuffed. Someone needed to invent support undergarments for men who were blessed by nature. I’d had no idea.

  “Anita, what are you doing here?”

  “I came to visit. Where’s Susu?”

  “She should have been home two hours ago. Don’t you ever pay your phone bills? I couldn’t reach you at home or on your cell.” He stood there, his johnson curled like a big snake in his undies. I couldn’t take my eyes off it, so I stared at my feet and the smear Antonio had left on my shoe.

  “I’ve got a lead on a job here in Atlanta. Can I stay for a few days?”

  “Stay as long as you want.” He walked over to his dresser, pulled out a pair of folded jeans and put them on. “What’s that on your shoe?”

  “Baby shit.”

  “Tony, huh? Did you change him?” He caught the look on my face and rolled his eyes. “If you stay here, you have to help with the chores.” He started down the hall and I trotted after him.

  “Aren’t you worried about Susu? Where did she go?”

  Carl stopped and turned around. “Yoga.” He laughed at the look on my face. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too.”

  The dog started barking and Antonio squealed. The front door opened.

  “How’s my precious poop machine? Both of you?”

  I ran back downstairs, not anxious to be caught with my half-naked brother-in-law. “Su, I thought you’d run away.”

  “Anita! You look fabulous, darling.” A thin, gorgeous redhead wearing my sister’s face threw her arms around me and squeezed me hard.

  I pushed her away and stared her up and down. Where was the graying brown hair, the lush curves, the trio of chins? The denim jumper, white ankle socks, and white Keds?

  This woman was stunning. Susu had remade herself. She twirled. “What do you think?”

  “Wow. I’m speechless, sis. What happened?”

  “I woke up one morning and said, ‘I’m thirty years old, forty pounds overweight, and I’ll be damned if I look like this when I’m forty.’ So I started running, quit eating doughnuts, and colored my hair.”