MaMaLu stayed with me. We opened the rest of the presents and she ooh’d and aah’d over the extravagant gifts. We put Esteban’s giraffe away last, with all of his other creations, because she knew I liked it best.
It was almost dark when MaMaLu opened the window and gasped. I flew to her side and saw Esteban on his hands and knees in the garden, cutting the grass . . . with a pair of scissors. It was the garden in the back, with prickly poppies and spiny weeds. Esteban winced with every step. His palms and knees were raw and his t-shirt clung to him from sweat and exertion.
I knew MaMaLu wanted to cuss Victor out, but she bit her tongue. She brushed my hair and tucked me into bed.
“Are you going to tell me a story tonight, MaMaLu?” I asked.
She got into bed with me and put her arm around me.
When Esteban finished, he climbed through the window and listened. It was a tale we hadn’t heard before, about a magic swan that graced the grounds of Casa Paloma. If you caught a glimpse of it, you would be blessed with a rare treasure. MaMaLu told us that the swan hid in the garden, but once in a while, on a new moon, it liked to swim in the lily pond, by the tree with the yellow flowers.
Esteban smiled at me. He flexed his fingers because they were numb from holding the scissors for so long. I smiled back. Casa Paloma meant House of Doves. Trust MaMaLu to throw in a swan. We both knew there were no magic swans, but we liked the sound of MaMaLu’s voice.
“Sing us the lullaby,” I said, when she finished the story.
Esteban scooted over and knelt by the bed. MaMaLu turned her face away from him. She was still mad at him for punching Gidiot, but she let him put his head in her lap.
De la Sierra Morena,
Cielito lindo, vienen bajando . . .
It was Esteban’s lullaby, from when he was a baby, but I was their cielito lindo—their little piece of sky. I snuggled closer as she sang about birds that leave nests, and arrows, and wounds. Esteban and I lay with MaMaLu between us. We didn’t move when it was done because it was soft and quiet, and we wanted to stay there forever.
“Come, Esteban,” said MaMaLu. “It’s time we said goodnight.”
“Wait.” I wasn’t ready to go to sleep yet. It had been the best birthday ever, in spite of Esteban’s punishment. Tomorrow, he would go to class with me and not have to hide in the hutch anymore. “I haven’t said my prayer.”
We closed our eyes and held hands in a circle.
“Dear Lord, bless my soul. And watch over Dad. And MaMaLu and Esteban.” My voice quivered with laughter because Esteban peeked and caught me peeking, and MaMaLu opened her eyes and rapped her knuckles on our heads.
It was the prayer that had saved me. Or doomed me. I couldn’t decide which.
Damian had gone back to watching his line, supremely confident that I wouldn’t do something as stupid as try to drown myself. His gaze was focused on some invisible spot on the horizon.
I looked through the railing and followed the flight of sea gulls as they caught an air current and rode it to the shore.
The shore.
I blinked.
For the first time in days, I could see land. We weren’t heading towards it, we were running parallel to it, but I could make out trees and small structures and the glint of glass.
What do you do, Skye?
My eyes searched the deck.
I grab the fire extinguisher and bash his brains out.
I stood up slowly and made my way towards the shiny red cylinder.
Damian had his back to me so he didn’t see it coming. I swung at him and felt an odd thrill at the sound of metal colliding against bone as it slammed into his jaw. KLUNK. His head flopped to one side and the fishing rod clattered to the floor. I hit him again, attacking the other side, and knocked him clean off the chair. He toppled over, back curled, limbs drawn to his chest, nursing his head between his hands.