Dalila
Since Lucas died, I’ve been living my life in honor of him as if that’s what would have made him happy. I also hold massive amounts of guilt that it was Lucas who had the heart murmur and not me. That guilt guided me in every one of my goals and the way I lived, pretending it was what I wanted, but I never felt any true purpose or passion.
Until now.
Ryan has pulled me out from a cloud I’ve been living under. This tension I feel when he’s away from me isn’t going to go away. I’m going to see Ryan, to find out if he’s okay and to let him know that I’m not abandoning him.
I pull out a backpack from my closet and quickly shove a bunch of clothes inside. I’m not going to sit back and let the things that matter to me slip away. Not anymore, when my parents refuse to trust me with the truth. I don’t even feel like I’m a part of this family anymore.
With renewed energy, I’m ready to do this. I’m going to cross the border and find Ryan. We’re still in this together whether he wants to believe it or not.
I put on jeans and a T-shirt, ready to shove all plans aside and start a new path. One that I’ve created.
Reaching onto the top shelf of the hall closet where my parents hide our passports, I feel around but can’t find them. Frustrated, I grab a chair and stand on it so I can see the entire top shelf.
They’re not here.
Someone moved them.
I rush downstairs and storm into my father’s office. “Where is it?”
He takes his glasses off and looks up at me from his desk. “Where is what, Dalila?”
“My passport.”
He raises a brow and eyes me suspiciously. “May I ask what you need your passport for, mija?”
“To cross the border. I looked in the hall closet and it’s not there.”
“Ah, I see.” He leans back in his chair. “I will tell you right now that I forbid you to cross the border, so finding it is of no consequence.”
Without warning my mamá appears in the doorway. “Your father had nothing to do with it,” she says. “I hid the passports somewhere else.”
“I need mine.”
She shakes her head. “It’s locked in a secure place.”
Her words make me want to sink to my knees in despair. “No,” I say in a defeated whisper.
“It’s for your safety, Dalila,” she says, then steps closer to pull me into a hug.
I shrug out of her embrace. “You don’t understand. This place has become my prison,” I tell them. “What’s the use in being safe if you can’t live your life?”
“The alternative is not having a life,” Papá chimes in.
“I’m not happy here.”
“You think you’ll be happy with that boy from the US?” Papá scoffs. “He’s different and mysterious. A novelty. You’ll get bored of him and he’ll get bored of you soon enough, and then where will you be? In the middle of a cartel war where people want to hurt you.”
“Why would they want to hurt me?” I cross my arms on my chest. “Because of you? Be honest with me for once, Papá! You sent my sisters away. You’re keeping our home a fortress. You’re putting us all in danger. Why?”
“I can’t share those things with you,” he says.
“You have to trust us that we’re making the best decisions for you and your sisters,” Mamá chimes in.
I can’t blindly trust them, not when it feels like they’re the ones putting our family in danger. Somehow, Papá’s friendship with Don Cruz and his association with Santiago Vega have something to do with the change in our lives.
“Fine,” I say. “You win.”
My parents look at each other with wary expressions as I walk out of the office.
This isn’t over.
Back in my room, I stare at my backpack lying on my floor. That passport was my ticket across the border to find Ryan. Besides me there are only three people who matter to him: Mateo, Juan Camacho, and his friend from the Shadows of Darkness concert, Pablo.
During dinner, I try to act normal.
“What do you think about traveling this summer?” Papá asks me.
“Where?”
He hesitates as if it’ll increase the excitement. “A cruise. There’s a friend of mine with a private yacht. You and your mother and sisters can spend time on the ocean and enjoy—”
“What about you?” I ask him. “Won’t you be going?”
“Unfortunately I have work and can’t take time off. Not this summer, anyways.”
I look at my mom, who’s busily eating her food. “It’ll be wonderful to get away, Dalila. Wouldn’t it? No stress, no drama . . .”
No Ryan.
“Sure,” I tell them in the most enthusiastic tone I can muster. “Sounds like fun.”
I don’t reveal that I won’t be going on any cruises.
Not without Ryan, anyways. Back in my room, I start making my plan.
I decide to wait until they’re asleep to sneak out. It’s no use going out the front door, because there are two guards stationed there at all times. The only way out of my prison is jumping off the garden balcony into the fields below.
Ducking through shadows, I stealthily glide through the house trying not to make a sound.
But when I pass my dad’s office, I hear him talking to his head bodyguard, Gerardo. “In the morning you’ll take Dalila to Casa Nieves,” he says. “She’ll be safe there.”
“She won’t want to go,” I hear Gerardo say.
“She doesn’t have a choice,” Papá responds.
But I do have a choice. I’m not going to be hidden away and ordered around like some kind of pawn.
It’s not easy ducking out of the house in the dark, especially when a bunch of bodyguards are patrolling our ranchero. When one of them goes on break, I sneak into the gardens and jump off the balcony. Running through the fields makes me anxious until I get to the other side of the property. I walk on the edge of the dark roads, hoping nobody realizes I’m gone until the morning.
With one last glance at my home and tears staining my eyes, I silently say good-bye to my home. The life I once knew is gone, replaced by one less known but more meaningful.
I knew where I was going the minute I left. Without a passport, I hop on a bus headed for Sevilla. I keep my head down, hoping nobody will recognize me as the daughter of Oscar Sandoval.
I have to stay under the radar if I’m going to pull this off.