Chapter One
Ricky
“I’M TURNING DOWN the scholarship. Like Ricky did.” My sister, Marcela, stood next to the battered refrigerator. As I walked further into the kitchen, her lips pressed into a hard line. She was adamant. Taking the top of the packet of scholarship paperwork in each hand, she pulled in opposite directions, ripping it down the middle.
Tears formed in my mother’s brown eyes as she pressed the frayed red plaid dish towel to her chest. “No! Marcela, you can’t do this. Please, mija. You must go to college.”
“Marcela, you’re going to school. I’ll get another job. Postpone my classes.” My voice came out steady, but inside my heart raged, fueled by the caged beast trapped inside. The thought of my younger sister missing out on college, not to mention a full ride, made my head throb. There had to be a better way. A different option.
She wouldn’t be forced to follow the same road I had taken. Turning down a full scholarship to college was a necessity, but I had managed to attend classes part-time at community college while working one full-time job and a part-time job at night. Most of my friends graduated last spring with their bachelor’s, completing college in the expected four years. I was looking at ten plus to complete my degree. Once I dug up the pot of gold at the end of the motherfucking rainbow, I could attend a four-year college and finish my studies.
Teresa, my youngest sister, stepped into the tiny kitchen, her brown eyes wide with apprehension. As a family unit, we kept our voices down and our tones calm for the sake of my father’s health. This level of emotion was rare. Teresa opened the fridge, taking out a carton of milk and placing it on the chipped Formica countertop.
The three of us watched her open the cabinet where Mama stored dry goods. She pulled out a box of generic cereal, emptying the meager contents that were left into a bowl before throwing the box into the trash. She added only a few drops of milk, saving the rest for us I was sure, and placed it back in the fridge.
At seventeen, Teresa was tall and slender, her long black hair thick and straight. As we all did, she wore clothes that were faded, her jeans ripped from use and not fashion. Her red sweater was pilled, but clothes couldn’t take away from her beauty. No lack of money could make my sisters anything but beautiful. I often imagined the difference if they could afford the luxuries many other girls their age had.
“There’s not enough food, Ricardo. Look at Teresa’s bowl,” Marcela snapped, yanking the sleeves of her blue sweater to her elbows. Teresa’s face fell from the scrutiny. She spooned a small scoop of flakes and slowly lifted it to her mouth.
“You’re only going to a few classes a semester and already working two jobs. What more can you do?” Marcela held her arms out, palms up.
Marcela’s long black hair was braided, but otherwise, she matched Teresa in her school attire of jeans and a sweater.
“Mama,” Marcela continued. “The bills keep piling up.” She gestured to the corner where a basket overflowed with mail. “Insurance covers less and less each year. There is no other option. I need to pitch in.”
“Marcela, please. You’ll pitch in after you graduate from medical school like you’ve planned for the last eighteen years. You have straight A’s. You’ll have many college credits stored up from your advanced classes when you graduate. What a waste to throw that away! All that time and energy. No. I won’t allow it.” Mama’s voice increased in volume.
She stilled, hearing the shrill alarm coming from the adjoining room. Mama ran to the family room, her words hushed and soothing as the alarm stopped.
Stepping out of the kitchen, I took in my father. Strapped into a wheelchair, his breathing ragged, the ventilator he required for oxygen old and well used. He needed a new one, but the most advanced devices weren’t covered by our insurance. My muscles quivered, the loss of control too much for me to handle. My heart pounded, and chest tightened.
“Ricky,” Marcela quietly hissed from beside me. Her attention, like mine, was laser focused on our father. “I’ve been studying the latest journals with my biology teacher. There’s a chance that with the advances they’ve made in electrical brain stimulation that Papa could even find a way to communicate with us again. But the only way to get that for him is with money that we don’t have.” Her body shook as she spoke.
My sister’s intensity filled me with panic. A need to solve this problem, to make everyone’s lives better. I cracked my knuckles to release some tension.
“Papa is the priority, not me. I need to be here for him.” Marcela’s voice broke, her words choked.
I pulled her into my arms. “Listen to me. I’ll figure this out. I know how bad things are around here right now. Give me some time. I’ll handle it. Keep going to school. Don’t turn down the scholarship. Think how much you’ll help Mama and Papa with an MD after your name. We need you to stay strong and focused, Marcela.” I kissed the top of her head and hugged her to my side.
I pointed a finger at my youngest sister, who had left her cereal untouched the last few minutes. She stared at us with that damn worried expression. All the result of a shitty situation a junior in high school shouldn’t have to bear. “You too, Teresa. Focus on school. Be a good girl, don’t change anything. Let me worry about the money and Papa.” I tightened my grip on Marcela’s shoulder when she tried to pull away.
Teresa stood, placing the last small spoonful into her mouth, then dropped her bowl in the sink with a loud clatter. “This isn’t fair, Ricky. Why does all the responsibility have to fall on you? You’re missing out on life. I hate this. I hate that Papa got hurt and I hate that we all have to suffer for it.” Teresa ran out of the kitchen, hands pressed to her mouth.
Marcela met my eyes with an expression that mirrored the anguish all of us felt. None of this was fair. None of this was right.
I’d been trying to fix these issues for years. I’d given up on my dreams to help Papa. While my best friends partied their way through college, I worked. My life wasn’t one of a normal twenty-two-year-old.
And for what? No matter the sacrifice, it wasn’t enough. Time to help Papa was clearly running out. If something didn’t change, he would die.
At the thought, the monster inside me howled in despair.