Free Of Hustle and Heart by Briseis S. Lily Page B

my bedroom door; she’s still lingering near the living room.
    I sit up and call out to her. She doesn’t answer. I slip on my shorts and hurry into the living room. Whitney is standing at the edge of the hallway, watching my mother as she stands on the balcony, staring at the neighboring subdivision. She turns abruptly and smiles at me. She walks to the patio door, slides it open, and steps inside.
    “Yes, I’m still here,” my mother says. “I don’t want to leave the situation as is, and I don’t want to have to discuss it on the phone later.” I stand next to Whitney and then turn back toward my room.
    “Where are you going?” Whitney asks and jerks back on my arm.
    “I’m going to put on a shirt,” I say, taking her hand from my arm.
    “Get rid of her, Zack,” she says as I take her hand in mine, squeezing it reassuringly. “She doesn’t want to talk. She wants to force you to choose.”
    “No, she doesn’t. She knows I would never choose.”
    “Are the two of you done?” my mother asks.
    “No,” Whitney growls at my mother. Her voice sounds like soft gravel and not yet ready to forgive, but my mother ignores my girlfriend’s resistance.
    “You were headed to the kitchen?” she asks, but Whitney doesn’t answer.
    “I’m thirsty,” I say, nudging her toward the kitchen. “Please.”
    “And I’ll have some more tea,” my mother says. “I think there’s a little left, but you’ll have to warm it up.”
    My mother picks up her cup from beside her chair, extending it toward Whitney, but she walks past her. I take the cup from my mother and set it on the bar, watching Whitney as she opens the refrigerator door. She stands in the open fridge, her back facing me, staring into space and gripping my bottled water in one hand. She looks odd, and I’m worried about her. I call out to her. When she doesn’t answer, I walk around the bar into the kitchen. I take a few steps before she closes the door and turns to face me. She hands me the bottle of water and stares into my eyes, hers pooling.
    “I really, really love you, Zacarias.”
    I’m worried about us, but it pleases me to hear her say she loves me. I’m never sure if she could ever really love me. She reaches around me and takes my mom’s cup from the bar.
    “I’ll get her tea,” she says. “Go ahead and hear your mom out.”
    “I’m gonna go put on a shirt first,” I say, and Whitney nods. I cut through the living room, pass by my mother and kiss her on the check, something I’ve done since I was twelve. She smiles and pats me on the back.
    When I come back into the living room, Mother is sitting on the arm of John’s chair, waiting for Whitney and me. I glance into the kitchen and see Whitney holding Mother’s cup of hot tea. She holds the cup under her nose, blowing on it before she takes a sip from it. She lowers the cup and parts her lips enough to allow a thick lump of saliva to drool into my mother’s tea. She giggles and then picks up a spoon and stirs vigorously.
    “Your tea is ready,” she calls out, tossing the spoon into the sink. Then she notices me, wide eyed, stunned.
    “Zack, you want to give this to your mom?” she says, passing the cup.
    My lungs and voice were caught somewhere between my heart and my head. Speechless, I couldn’t breathe.
    “What the hell was that?” I ask. My eyes cloud; I take the cup from her. It was the most messed-up thing I’d ever seen her do.

CHAPTER 13
    ZINA
     
    I toss my mama’s Dr. Pepper into the icebox. The house is silent; the twins are who knows where. I go straight to my room and lock the door. I’m scared as shit right now, and I want to call Blanca. It always feels so right to confide in her. Tears stream down my face. I sit down in the middle of my bedroom floor, and the urge to crumble into pieces is a lot stronger than me. I’m sad when I realize I’m grieving alone for Corey and Bryan, gunned down, their bodies left dying on the corner of Kingwood and