From the End to the Beginning
**six**
"Ticia, it's guela…" my mother's voice comes over the answer machine, raw and broken. "The doctors say…if you want to say goodbye, you should come soon."
My heart stops in my chest and I lunge for the car keys, ignoring the groceries that spill out of my arms onto the floor. This is the moment I've been dreading since I first figured out how old my great-grandmother really is. She's never seemed old, not even at her ninety-ninth birthday party last summer.
I push the car – the same one she'd helped me build when I was seventeen – to its limits, making it home in just under five hours. I know she'll be there, in the big white house where all of us grew up. She'd refused to go back to the hospital after the last time.
I race up the stairs, into her bedroom, push through the crowd of family around her and climb right onto the bed, laying next to her, taking her into my arms. She's frail, I realize with a gasp, the skin of her arms like tissue paper. She turns towards me, but her eyes are cloudy, I don't even know if she realizes I'm there.
I bury my face against her neck, breathing in her scent, a curious mix of vanilla and motor oil even though I'm sure it's been years since she worked on an engine.
"Dominic…mi amor…" she murmurs, then closes her eyes, takes one last shuddering breath, and is gone.
**five**
"You gonna stick by me?" he asks as they dance, laughter in his voice as he smirks at her. Their bodies move to the music almost without thinking, the salsa rhythms second nature by now.
"Maybe…" she laughs, rubbing her hand across the top of his head. There's not even a hint of stubble there anymore. "Who else would have you, old man?"
"'Ey, watch it…" he retorts, reaching down to squeeze her ass, much to the chagrin of their children.
The grandchildren just laugh, shaking their heads, hoping they'll find something like this, someday.
She just laughs, louder, squirming against him as they dance. Fifty years they've been married, and she wishes she could flip off every single person who thought they'd never make it this far, from her parents all the way down to the skanks that used to hang all over him right in front of her at the races. She frowns, brows furrowing at the memories, the fights and the fuck-ups. They've had their share of tragedy, crisis…sometimes she thinks that's what brought them together in the first place.
It doesn't take long, though, before she's grinning again, laughing as he murmurs in her ear, telling her the things he's going to do when they finally get to be alone. After all these years, her body still sings for him.
She can't hold on to the negative – she refuses. What's the point, when it's all in the past, unchangeable? They've had more good than bad, after all, and she's grateful.
**four**
He nods, listening to the voice on the other end of the phone, clenching the wrench he's still holding in one hand. And then he realizes what he's doing, drops it. Shit.
"Letty!" he growls, arms crossed over his chest as he waits for her to crawl out from underneath the car she's been working on all morning.
"What?" she barks, frustrated. Just ten more minutes, and she'd be done. All the kids are in school now, so she's back to spending her days in the garage. But for some reason, she can't help feeling like she's ten years old again, back to having to prove herself.
"The school," he retorts, glaring at her. "Your son's in trouble again."
"He's your son too, Dom," she bites out, glaring right back.
He doesn't answer, just stomps to the car and gets in. She rolls her eyes – of course there's no discussion about who's going to drive, even though she's pretty sure it's her turn. Still, she knows he's frustrated – she is too – and somehow she manages to cut him some slack.
They're silent, through the drive, each lost in their own thoughts. She knows he's brooding, probably wondering what made them think they could be decent parents. Later, tonight, in bed, she'll reassure him. But for now she just closes her eyes, laughing a little as he puts the engine through its paces. For a minute, she can pretend that she's back in high school, back to sneaking around with him.
**three**
"Gonna be a papi…" she groans, throwing her head back as he nuzzles the hollow between her tits. Her hand moves to the back of his head, stroking his scalp and holding him to her at the same time.
"Already am," he reminds her, laughing as he shakes his head. Their son's almost five, going to start kindergarten in the fall. Nick's the spitting image of his father, and already a troublemaker – a ball of energy, always going.
She grabs his hand, pulls it to her belly, her eyes locked on his as she waits for him to realize. It's obvious, the exact second he does – the way his eyes go wide, his mouth drops open. There's not even a second of nerves, of hesitation.
She laughs against his mouth, having to work a little to keep up with the pace of his kisses. She'd been a little worried about telling him. They both love Nicky, but it's harder than she expected, being a parent. She's never sure they're doing the right thing, and it's not like there are any grandparents around to ask for advice.
"When?" he asks, barely giving her enough time to answer between hungry kisses.
"Summer," she tells him, grinning, laughing again. "The doctor said late June, maybe July. Just like Nicky."
"A baby…" he murmurs, shaking his head, going back to that spot between her tits that he loves so much. "Maybe it'll be a girl, this time?"
"Maybe," she groans again in pleasure, arching her back, pressing even closer to him than before.
**two**
She's crying, and it scares him to death. Partly because he can count on one hand the number of times he's seen her cry, and partly because there's no *reason* to be crying anymore.
They're safe. Everything's all right again. Vince, Jesse, somehow, by some miracle, everything's turned out okay. They can even go home, back to the house in Echo Park. And yet, she's sitting here in his lap, sobbing.
"It's okay, baby…" he murmurs, stroking her hair, rocking her like you would a little kid.
"You…" she stammers, her whole body shuddering as she tries to get herself back under control. He's the only one she would ever let see her like this, the only one she trusts that much. But lately…. "You have to start listening to me, Dom. No more of this king of the castle shit. I told you it didn't feel right!"
"I'm sorry," he says quietly, his voice low.
"You can't just make up for it with words!" she retorts, lightly slapping the side of his head. "You can't just say 'I'm sorry' and expect it all to be better!"
"I know…" he mutters, shaking his head, wincing a little. "I know that, Letty…. I'm going to try and do better, I promise."
"You have to do better than try, Dom!" she retorts, almost glaring at him. "We have to fix this… I can't keep doing this."
"You said you were going to stick by me!" he growls, worried now. "Without you…. I couldn't do any of this without you."
**one**
The wrench falls out of her hand, down to the floor, she's that distracted. He's beautiful, there in the garage, leaning over the engine of his car, sweat pouring down his bare back. He's like a Greek god, out of the mythology book they've been reading in English class. Eros, she thinks.
He looks over, hearing something clatter, wondering what she's broken now. Sure, she knows her way around cars, but it seems like she's gotten clumsier and clumsier over the past few months. He's tried telling his pops it's actually costing them money to let her keep working at the shop, but Tony just laughs.
He uses the interruption as an excuse for a break. He's making good progress, enough that he should be finished, ready for the street races tonight. That is…assuming he can get out of the house without getting caught.
"You could come, tonight…" he suggests, setting a Coke down on the workbench next to her.
"I… *what*?" she stammers, fumbling with the soda, almost dropping it. He's never willingly invited her anywhere before. "Are you…really? You aren't just…."
"Yeah…" he says, nodding, coming up with his plan right there on the spot. "I'll tell pops I'm taking you out, on a date or something…."
"A date?" she asks, practically squeaking, immediately cursing herself under her breath for acting like such a girl around him.
He nods, thoroughly pleased with this plan. "Ain't a real date, though…" he says, glancing over at her. "Don't go getting any ideas that it means something."
**zero**
She sits on the front porch of their new house, feet swinging, head in her hands. She didn't bwant/b to leave Puerto Rico, leave all of their family just because papi got a new job all the way across the bworld/b in Los Angeles. But nobody asked her what she wanted, so here she is.
Just then, a truck pulls up in front of the house down the street, towing a beat up old car behind it. A Charger, she thinks, but she's not quite close enough to tell. She slides off the porch, goes to the very corner of the yard, straining her eyes as she tries to make out the details. She's still too far away, though.
She can hear the front door of the house slam, can hear the excited voice of a boy. She guesses it's his house, probably his papa bringing the car home to fix up. She can hear them laughing, hear the joy in their voices, and it makes her think of home.
Tio Miguel worked at a garage, in San Juan. Papi worked there too, sometimes. She spent a lot of afternoons in that garage, just about every day after school. Tio used to let her help, after she finished her homework. Maybe these people would let her help, too.
Without even thinking about it, she starts walking down the street, towards the car, towards the boy, towards the rest of her life.