Discovered

Chapter 1: Home at Last

For a moment, I thought that as soon as we come back from Washington, things will be the same; but I was wrong: the news of Senior Goodman's arrest spread across the world, like a virus.

People who were once good friends with the man became hostile enemies while some weren't surprise. If Abuela and Pedro Martinez were here, they would have been happy of his arrest.

But since they were both dead, it gave Mom, Dad, and me the effort to create a huge funeral and bury their bodies next to each other. To us, it was like a honorable tradition for the amazing things they did for us.

As soon as we got into the plane, I instantly hate the fact that I have to leave Cuba. It was like Washington, except none of my friends were there.

I wonder if this is how people feel when they move to another place.

When I asked my father, who was injured by his captors, he ruffled my hair and told me that when I am older, he will tell me. I wrinkled my nose then studied at my shirt cuffs.

Dad and Malcolm recovered from the hospital, where they celebrated their freedom with smiles and relief.

As soon as the chaos was over, my parents and I explored the rest of Cuba, taking pictures, checking out the cafes, and playing in the beach. 

I remembered Mom and I were sitting under a huge beach  umbrella, catching the sun's rays while Dad was staring at the angry waves.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Dad was sneaking behind Mom's beach chair, reaching her bag, and taking her cellphone.

Mom noticed that it was gone and was going to ask me until she saw Dad's smug look. I watched as she leaped out of her chair and asked him for it, but he refused.

"Give it to me," Mom insisted.

He playfully shook his head and darted across the burning sand.

"Ben," she moaned, catching up to him.

I could barely hear them under the loud waves crashing against the sand.

"Give it to me," Mom said sternly.

Dad handed her the phone, but just when Mom was about to take it, he yanked the phone away.

"Please give it, Ben!" Mom begged.

She tried to snatch it away from his hands until she collided against his muscular body then fell on the sand.

I hopped out of my chair and walked over to them, hoping if they were alright.

But as soon as I saw Mom laughing very hard, leaning her head on Dad's chest.

I smiled as he swept Mom's bangs away from her eyes then kissed her gently on her mouth.

"I love you," I heard her say.

Dad giggled as he handed her cellphone back.

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear," he replied with a smile.

"I love you too."

I saw Mom rolling her eyes.

"Do you always make me feel like I am seventeen?" Mom asked.

"Yes," Dad answered, wrapping his bare arms around Mom's blue bikini top.

"You like it?"

Mom thought about it before kissing him on the lips.

"Definitely," she answered.

I reached into my knapsack, pulled out my phone, and snapped a couple pictures of them laughing in the sand and kissing.

When noticing me taking pictures, Mom and Dad got up from the sand, then grabbed my hands as we stormed into the waves.

After a smooth flight back to Washington, I raced home, threw my suitcase on the floor, and collapsed on the living room couch.

I inhaled the sweetest smell of vanilla sugar wafting through the fabric.

Home Sweet Home, I thought happily. As soon as I hear my parents opening the door. I brushed the hair away my eyes then helped them carry their things in their bedrooms.

"Make sure you unpack your suitcase before you rest, okay?" Dad asked.

Even though Dad recovered in the hospital. I can still see scars and bruises over his  eyebrows.

"Okay," I beamed. "But you need to rest and let Mom or me take care of it."

He gave me a long look.

"Cleo for the last time," he sighed. "I am fine, I feel like an eagle."

I smirked at that comment.

"You feel like an eagle?" I giggled. "You sound like Uncle Seth."

"You know what I mean," Dad moaned.

Mom came inside the house, carrying her heavy luggage. She wore her favorite red plaid, long khaki pants, and sneakers.

Her face was tired and sweaty. After she set her suitcase on the floor, she fell on the couch with her arms and legs hanging.

"Thank goodness, we're home." Mom groaned.

Dad walked over to the couch and laid down next to her.

He stroked her hair then kissed it.

Sighing, I walked over to the couch and joined them.

We were all tired and sweaty not only from the Cuban sun, but also from that really long plane flight.

Dad made a decision that we all should rest up and put away our suitcases tomorrow. But after smelling my sweaty coat, I wanted to take a long shower and watch some television.

I kissed Mom and Dad on the cheeks then hopped out of the couch to grab my suitcase then ran upstairs.

My bedroom was just like where I left it: periwinkle blue walls were still there, the bookshelves was still filled with my favorite mystery novels, and the best part was my bed.

It was sitting idly between my closet and my drawer.

After putting away the items of my suitcase, I collected my black 2Pac t-shirt, undies, skinny jeans, and shoes then plopped on the sink counter.

Turning on the shower and smelling the scent of lavendar soap was what I call...relaxation.

I scrubbed myself hard with a bath brush, until my hands were getting tired.

As soon as the remaining lather rushed into the drain, I got out of the tub, dried myself, and put my fresh clothes on.

"Cleo!" Mom called. "Could you come downstairs for a moment?"

Her voice was squeaky and shaky. Something was wrong.

"Okay," I called back, storming down the stairs until I was back in the living room.

The walls were painting in a grey-bluish color. The entire kitchen was spotless: no dust, dirt, or even crumbs penetrate it.

The kitchen cupboards and food closet were woodcarved into perfection, with windows to show all of the plates and cups.

There is nothing for me to do in the kitchen.

Because of Uncle Seth, the refrigerator and the food closet was well organized and stocked.

Why did Mom call me? I wondered.

Just then, the flat television explained my answer.

A footage of a young female reporter with a purple dress talked very rapidly, which I couldn't understand.

But behind her was a KFC restaurant being surrounded by police crime tape, the crowd and not surprisingly, the police.