Before I Bury You | Book I of The Burial Series

Voy A.

Adrian

Her long, sturdy acrylic nails delved aggressively into my cheeks, forcing my head to meet her blistering eyes at the iris. Subtle strands of smoke from her cigarette that she held in her left hand engulfed within my nostrils as she singed holes into my soul, anger and frustration overwhelming her as she glared at me.
      "Mierda, Adrián." Her heavy hispanic accent drenched cooly above her dialogue as she hissed at me, tightening her grip on either sides of my face. Her breath reeked of day-old Hennessy and cigarettes. I jolted aback as she continued to growl at me. "What the fuck did I tell you about roaming de streets with those pecadores?!" she continued, the soft cloth of her nightgown gliding softly above my hands.

I attempted to soothe her anger, but my defensive remarks only enraged her even more, "Chill, mamita, it's not even that--." she cut me off before I could finish my lie. 

 She knows what they do to people, what they did to me. 

"Cállate, you stupid boy!" Her ethnic roots continued to peak through her tone as she quickly waved the ignited cigarette in her hand as it rested lazily between her middle and index fingers, "I'm talking." She hollowed, repeatedly pointing at her chest with a maternal swagger that only she could exude. I glanced down at her short stature, waiting for her to continue verbally dragging me through fresh concrete. "You're just like your damn father. You think that gang mess is going to prove that you have balls? And don't you dare try to lie to me about it either...for, I know. I watch you." she lectured, squinting her eyes. 

"Those are my brothers, mami." I responded vaguely, my voice deep and cool in comparison to her high, anger-filled tone. I sat back on the rest of the wooden chair as she slowly released my face. "Your brothers?" she questioned calmly, tilting her head in disbelief. Raising her left hand, full of wrinkles and aging beauty marks, she pointed to the door, tilting her head for emphasis as her expression melted into a pur disgust at my words. "You think that those boys actually care about you?" Her tone was harsh and genuine. I furrowed my long eyebrows at her, descending my hands onto my knees. She would never understand. Not because she wasn't capable, but the pain of not having my father caused her seemed to have blinded her in the worst way, "It's not about that. They can help me take care--"
        Her love was a ticking time bomb that could leave the world in ruins if she pleased. "They wan' ruin you." she began. "Mida," she said, waving her hands frantically, the waves of her cigarette following her forearm as she spoke. "They see your potential, mijo. They see you can do something good for yourself and they want to bring you down with them." she said, placing her cigarette back into her mouth. My mother inhaled deeply in distress. Softly, she blew more smoke into the air, placing her eyes on me once again. "Especially Angel." she eased, adjusting her nightgown in between her legs.
      I began to get agitated at the sound of his name, though I claimed this nigga as my best friend no less than two days ago in the school cafeteria.
     "You never had a problem when bein' in this helped us pay the bills and put food on the table." I defended lowly. I knew it was a bad but I needed leverage. She was weakening me. Immediately, her anger spiraled, "I would rather lay on my back like a dirty whore then to have taken your money, and you know that." she seethed, gritting her teeth. "But, yes, I accepted it. I had no choice. We would have been out on the street. That doesn't mean I agree with how you got it. Don't be smart." At five foot nothing, rolling her eyes at me, she sighed in worry and angst, pressing her wrists against her forehead in distress, sure to keep her cigarette from her skin. She began rocking herself slowly in attempt to calm herself down.
        No one knew me better than this woman. Every word that came out of her mouth was a bitter truth that I refused to acknowledge. 
       I remained in silent, staring vaguely at the beige stained walls that stood firmly at her right. She kept glaring at me, reading me, ridiculing me lovingly. "So you no gonna say anything, Osito?"
       Osito. Teddy. That was her name for me ever since I was four. She named me this after my father left. When I would hear her crying because of his absence, I would crawl into her bed and cuddle her, remind her that I would be the man she needed. She says it was motivation for her to keep going, keep pushing through.
     Coming back to reality, I found that she was still antagonizing me, stepping closer to me. I then laid my focus onto the ground, hard, brown and freshly polished from her scrubbing the floor moments earlier. I kept my expression grim and bleak, refusing to give her a reaction. Nothing aggravated her more because it reminded her of my father.
       Frustrated, she inhaled heavily. Dropping her cigarette into her ashtray, she expanded her small hands, placing them onto both sides of my face with such vigor and passion. Her eyes were drenched in fatigue, her bags weighing heavily on her fragile skin that was coated with slight red inflammation. My mother pressed her forehead against mine, pushing my glasses so that they were now slanted. She was too overwhelmed with emotion to care. And beneath the masculine facade I had spent so many years perfecting, so was I. But she could never know that. No one could. The atmosphere was too fierce to pay attention to something so little, nonetheless.
     "Adrián, you listen to me, Adrián." She rolled her R's at the pronunciation of my name with fluency.  My hooded eyes continued to flicker about her face, concealing the shocked that was accumulating within me as she kept talking. We had, had this conversation numerous times, but something felt extremely different about this one. I had never seen her so flustered, so anxious, so...desperate.
        I looked into her hazel eyes, tears welling at her sockets. Her night lamp shined brightly against her dilated pupils as her tears threatened to fall against her cheeks.