Here to Stay - Adriana Herrera Page 0,62

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Matching eye rolls came my way in unison. “You’re no fun. Do you have any plans for Thanksgiving?”

I shook my head and tried not to look too much like a loser. “I think I’m going to take the day to relax.”

Muffy nodded while Mitzy fished for something in her bag. “We’ll see you on Friday for the barbecue right?”

“I’ll be there.” The Sturm twins threw a Thanksgiving Friday BBQ that was apparently a famous occurrence in Dallas high-society circles, and my Queens-born-and-bred ass had a formal invitation.

“Great. See you then, and if you change your mind about tomorrow, just come by.”

I needed to keep some kind of proper distance, so I just waved them off without a definite answer.

As I headed up to the office, I saw my phone flashing on my desk. When I looked at the screen, my stomach lurched with the dread I always felt whenever I saw one of my parents was calling me. I couldn’t ignore them, in case something terrible had happened, but I also knew there was no chance it could be good.

“Hello.”

“You weren’t even going to bother to call? Your mother’s been crying all day.” My father was slurring, so this entire conversation was going to be a fucking mess. This was what it was like every holiday. My father would start drinking days before and made everyone miserable. Because in his house, if he was unhappy he made damn sure everyone else was.

A few years ago those words would’ve gutted me and had me booking a flight home, but now I knew that I had to prioritize my own well-being. And today I was not putting up with it.

“I’m sorry she’s upset, but that’s not on me to fix. Not that anything I do would make you happy.”

“You could call and ask how we’re doing. So fucking ungrateful.”

I didn’t need to listen to this.

“I’m ungrateful? I pay for your utilities every month. Pay for your prescriptions so you don’t fucking die. I’m still waiting for a thank-you.”

The scoffing sound that came over the phone made my face feel hot, anger and resentment filling me. This was me with my parents. It took seconds to undo years of learning to manage my emotions of keeping myself under control.

“That’s the least you can do after we kept you fed and clothed. Now that you’re making six figures working for some Wall Street assholes, you think you’re better than us. Brito turned you against us.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. Not this again. My father hated Coach because when I couldn’t deal with being in that house anymore, he’d helped me out. My father resented that Coach had encouraged me to play baseball. To stick with it so I could get a scholarship. It was like it bothered him that despite all his efforts to break us all down, I’d made something of myself. And I hated that whenever he called me all that anger bubbled right back up.

I closed my eyes and remembered Coach Brito’s words: “Where you came from matters, but where you’re going matters more.”

“I have to go, Dad. Have a good Thanksgiving.”

I ended the call, the phone gripped tight in my hand. I felt drops of sweat trickling down my back. My head was a fuzzy mess too. Everything out of control, just from a one-minute conversation. From so far away my family could still do this to me. Again, I thought about Dani’s suggestion to settle here. But what did it matter if my father could still do this with a call? If I made Sofia come, they’d do it to her too.

Maybe I just had too much baggage for fresh starts.

* * *

My phone woke me up at 5:30 a.m., and a smile lifted my mouth as soon as I saw the number.

“Hey, Coach.”

A gruff laugh came from the speaker and once again it occurred to me how few people I had who cared about me enough to check on me on a holiday. “Boy, I haven’t coached you in anything since you were seventeen years old. Unless teaching you how to do your laundry is considered a contact sport.”

I laughed because even though I hadn’t played for him since high school, he’d been coaching me through life since day one.

“Uh-huh. You up before dawn getting that turkey ready on the DL?”

He gave a pained groan and I smiled, thinking of him in his Queens College sweatshirt silently preparing the turkey before his wife woke up and tried to

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