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CRASH!
The sound reverberated throughout the thin walls of Gerry's New York apartment. It woke her with a jolt. She wasn't yet adjusted to city life. She sat upright in her bed and scanned the small room with her large brown eyes. The dingy off- white walls glowed dark blue from the night, with the frequent white glow of a passing car.
Gerry pulled herself from the bed, stopping to grab the baseball bat she kept next to her rickety nightstand. If there was anything she had learned from six months of living in New York, it was that anything could happen.
With her curly ebony hair falling in a curtain around her face, Gerry carefully open the door into the small hallway leading into the kitchen. Her heart was beating out of her chest. She was never this forgetful. Gerry's breathing had grown shallow and came out in small white puffs. She hadn't been paid enough to afford heat this frigid November. She shivered in her thin shirt.
The apartment door was ajar. A pair of shoes that were not Gerry's were strewn next to the dying radiator. Something seemed very, very off about the situation. She never left that door unlocked. Now was not the best time to remember her Abuela's ghost stories from long ago. The uncertainty in the apartment also reminded Gerry of hearing sounds while home alone in Texas. She shuddered at the memory of life back there. Texas had been dry and lifeless. There was a future for herself here in New York.
She ventured farther into the kitchen and looked into the small living room. The moonlight streamed lazily through the large windows. It illuminated a figure calmly sitting on the worn leather couch. The figure held something in its hands: a small picture frame Gerry had taken the night she had run away. It was one of the few things that had been good about home. The figure's hair glowed bright from the streetlights.
"What are you doing here?" Gerry whispered hoarsely.
The figure lifted its head. The sinking feeling in her gut told her that she was staring at the very reason she had left Texas. Her mother.
"This was my favorite picture of you and Carmen, Geraldine." Maria Rodrigo looked up from the photo and locked eyes with Gerry. She scanned her mother for any signs of change, but only saw that she had begun to show signs of aging. Her brown eyes regarded Gerry with the same intention.
"That's why I took it," Gerry replied.
"Tú es diferente, mija," Maria marveled at how her daughter had changed.
"Don't call me mija," her voice shook. She wanted no connection to the affectionate term for daughter.
"Why are you here?" Gerry wanted to scream and yell at her mother for every single moment she had spent forgetting about her. There was so much anger built up from nights spent lying awake in bed, wondering where her mother was. She remembered every lie her mother had uttered her entire life.
Gerry had grown to be so independent, learning that she wasn't going to get her way. She had been the unwanted child the second the pregnancy test had shown two lines. Maria hadn't been expecting Gerry to disrupt the life she had planned for herself. She had spent her whole life making up for a supposed crime she didn't mean to commit. Gerry had watched for eighteen years as her mother adored her other siblings and acted as if Gerry had been a ghost. The funny thing to her was that her mother had been the one who was barely there.
"I want you to come home." Maria's faint accent hung in the air.
"No-" Gerry began.
"I knew you would say that. But for once, would you listen to your mamá? I am sick, Geraldine, very sick. The doctor insists I begin chemotherapy, but money is so, so scarce. Help your aging mamá; make her well again,"
"You came all this way to beg for money?" Gerry was appalled at how low her mother would stoop. Surely she wasn't the last hope for treatment.
"I would never beg for money."
Reluctantly, she set her bat down on the coffee table. The thought of going home was frightening, to be reminded of everything she had escaped from. No, it couldn't happen!
"Come home, Geraldine, I will not ask you again!" Her mother's cold tone chilled the already frozen room.
"I'm not going home." Gerry's time on the streets had taught her to always be cautious.
"When I die. Because I am going to die Geraldine. You will receive the phone call and be devastated. You will wish you had saved me. Do you want that to happen?"
"You were supposed to be my superhero. I'm not going to help you when you never helped me!" Gerry's voice shook with anger. There was adrenaline coursing through her veins. She stalked to the already open door and pointed to the hallway, "Go. I don't want to see you here again,"
Maria's face filled with shock. She stood with a fierce expression and nodded.
"Karma will come and find you someday, Geraldine!" Maria picked up the picture frame and smashed it to the floor. Shards of glass scattered across the floor.
She passed Gerry and went into the narrow hallway. Her feet stomping on the ground.
"Don't come back," Gerry whispered and shut the door. She listened to the harsh footsteps as they grew more distant.
Outside, the sky became lighter and stars began to fade from sight. Early morning traffic beeped and honked. A symphony of city life was starting up again. In just a few hours, Gerry would be leaving for another long day of work. She would pass thousands of strangers who didn't know her story. They wouldn't know why she had such dark circles under her eyes.
It was fine with Gerry. There are some stories that deserve to be told. Stories the world should hear. But Gerry's story was one she wanted to keep to herself. Not all stories are good ones. Everyone has a chapter they don't read aloud. Hers was another to add to the list.
***
Little did Gerry know however, was that her mother was boarding a plane back to Texas with a livid but smug expression. While she was pleased that pulling the cancer card had hurt Gerry, she was mad that her disgraceful daughter hadn't taken the bait. It had been selfish of her to run away when Maria had given her a perfectly good life. It had been Maria who took the stares and whispers from their neighbors the weeks after Gerry had left. If blood really was thicker than water, Gerry would have decided to come home. Lying had been her last resort.
"I'll be back," she whispered as the Manhattan skyline completely vanished from view.