Tigers, Not Daughters - Samantha Mabry Page 0,48
microwave. As Iridian had been leaving with the shampoo bottle in hand, she’d seen that one of Ana’s drawers was open. Normally, whatever was crammed in a drawer wouldn’t have caught Iridian’s eye—decades’ worth of anything and everything filled every corner of the Torres house—but what she’d seen made her heart plummet.
It was a pregnancy test. It was new, unopened, safe in its box. But still.
There were footsteps on the stairs, and Iridian heard her sister—Ana—call out her name.
For a moment, Iridian considered acting like nothing had happened and nothing was wrong. She could slide the drawer all the way closed and Ana would never know about her snooping. But Iridian didn’t want to act like nothing had happened. Of course, she knew Ana snuck out her window all the time to meet boys, but she never would’ve guessed her sister would be so careless—so stupid—as to get herself pregnant, or in a situation where she might even think she was pregnant.
It was a nightmare. Iridian saw it all unfold. She knew Ana would have the baby. It would be a little girl because this was a house full of girls, and all Iridian’s plans of running away with her sisters would be ruined. They couldn’t run with a baby. Ana couldn’t be both their leader and a mother. None of the rest of them could be the leader. Iridian wasn’t brave enough—not brave like girls in books. Jessica could make a decision but could never follow through with anything. Rosa would just lead them in circles.
Iridian had sucked the end of her braid into her mouth, hoping to taste the faint tang of the dirt from the South Texas orange groves. Instead, she’d tasted oil and sweat—it wasn’t the same at all.
Iridian took the box from the drawer. She held the tragedy in her hand, and when Ana finally reached the top of the stairs and found her, Iridian said, “You said we’d go back. You told us.”
“Go back where?” Ana asked. Her gaze fell to the box in Iridian’s hand. “Iridian, wait.”
Iridian didn’t wait. Instead she hurled out the ugliest thing she could think of—a thing that was not true, but true in that moment. “How could you do this to us, you dumb whore?”
Ana slammed the bathroom door shut and leapt forward.
“You’re going through my stuff?” Ana demanded, all up in Iridian’s face.
Iridian waited—to get smacked, to be yelled at, for Ana to get defensive and then apologize and apologize again—but Ana just crumbled. She fell back against the closed door, covered her eyes, and sobbed. Eventually, Ana slid all the way down to the ground and tossed the pregnancy test across the bathroom. Iridian was trapped. All she could do was stand there, mortified, radiant with shame. She did swallow, a couple of times, as if trying to gulp down her sour-tasting mistake. At last, Iridian took a step toward her sister, but Ana held up a hand, silently commanding Iridian to stay back.
“I was so scared,” Ana hiccupped. She wiped her eyes roughly. “But it’s nothing. It’s fine now. You’re fine now, Iridian. Alright?”
Again, Iridian took a step forward. She reached out, but her sister smacked her hand away.
“No,” Ana said. “You fucked up.”
Ana stood and left, and those were the last words Iridian ever heard her sister say.
The laughter continued outside as Iridian spit out her half-chewed cereal, rinsed out her bowl, and put it in the overstuffed dishwater. The front door opened, and there was a new sound—gaspy and raspy, a sort of hysterical giggling. It belonged to Jessica. When was the last time Iridian had heard Jessica giggle? When had she ever heard her do that?
“What’s going on?” Iridian asked, stepping into the living room.
“There was a fight,” Rosa replied. Jessica was collapsed against her little sister, gripping Rosa’s shoulders to keep from falling over. She was wet, like someone had tripped and spilled a drink on her shirt. “Between John and Peter Rojas.”
Jessica laughed harder.
Iridian looked to Rosa to explain, but all Rosa could do was shrug and shake her head. After a few seconds, Jessica managed to get herself together