Don’t Make Me Turn This Life Around Pagán, Camille (best novels for teenagers .txt) 📖

“Okay, amor,” said Milagros, beaming at Hector. “As you like it. I’m going to go get something from the kitchen.”

“So how did you and Milagros meet?” I asked as Hector handed me a glass of something bright red and, from the smell of it, highly flammable.

His smile was dreamy. “I’ve known Milagros since I was a kid. But I moved away after high school, and then worked in Florida for a long time. A little over a year ago, I came back to Vieques with my wife—well, ex-wife now,” he said, somewhat sheepishly. “We’d only come to check on her parents, but we’d ended up buying a home and staying. But our marriage was already falling apart—running into Milagros again on the island only made that even clearer to me. To make a long story short, we separated and now here I am,” he said, gesturing to the house. He grinned at me and Shiloh. “How about you two?”

“We met in Vieques, actually,” said Shiloh.

“Technically, we met in San Juan,” I said. “He was flying the plane I took from there to here.”

I’d expected Shiloh to chime in with more details, but he just nodded. I was about to fill in for him when Milagros appeared, carrying two glasses teeming with electric-pink liquid.

“Mocktails!” she announced, shuffling across the tile toward Isa and Charlotte, both of whom looked bored but at least had the good sense not to say as much. “Sin rum.”

“That’s so kind of you, but they’ll have to pass,” I said. “Charlotte can’t have sugared drinks.” I glanced at Isa. “And in the interest of fairness, it’s best if Isa doesn’t, either.”

“I can so—I just need to adjust my insulin,” said Charlotte. She’d been examining the framed photos Milagros had displayed on her tiered television stand. I sent photos every Christmas, so we were in several of them, but seeing them now made me realize that holiday cards were a lousy substitute for time together. I would have to talk to Shiloh about how we could afford to make this summer trip an annual event. After all, he’d said he felt more like himself here. And I had to believe that soon I would, too.

“We’ve talked about this. Remember how shaky you were after LaToya’s?” I said, referring to the time she’d decided to sneak a jumbo-sized soda.

“I know how to manage my blood sugar now,” she said, throwing herself down on the end of one of Milagros’ two sofas.

“So what happened after dinner the other night?” said Isa.

Charlotte swiveled and gave her a look that could have sunburned Satan.

“Don’t blame me for your broken pancreas,” Isa volleyed back.

If she weren’t being so childish, I would have commended her for correctly identifying the root cause of Charlotte’s condition. “Isa, please,” I said, hoping to nip their bickering in the bud before it got worse. I glanced at Shiloh, who shook his head in frustration.

“Try to be more compassionate, okay?” he said.

“This is me being compassionate,” she retorted. “Otherwise, I would have said that I’m tired of the world revolving around Charlotte. Or at least my food revolving around her. Stop lumping me in the same category as her, Mom. I’m sick of it.”

“You guys,” said Shiloh wearily. “Knock it off.”

At this rate, we were going to need a vacation to recover from our vacation. I glanced back and forth between the three of them, silently pleading for everyone to act normal. We had so little time to spend with Milagros; I didn’t want her and Hector, who’d been watching us from the sofa, seeing us at our very worst.

“Charlotte!” said Milagros. I hadn’t realized she’d disappeared again until she reappeared in the doorway, holding two more glasses. “I’m sorry that I forgot you have to be extra careful about what you drink. Do you want to try this? It’s sparkling water with just a tiny splash of sugar-free lemonade. No sugar.”

I braced myself for Charlotte to say something else that would embarrass me, but she reached for the glass Milagros was holding out to her. “Thank you,” she mumbled. She took a sip and looked up at Milagros. “This is really good.”

“Bueno! I’ll make it anytime you want, so don’t be afraid to ask. Now Isa,” said Milagros, sitting beside her on the other sofa. “I made you one, too, but that doesn’t mean you have to have it. Would you like the first one with sugar, provided that’s okay with your parents?”

“Oh,” said Isa softly. “No, I’ll try the one Charlotte’s having.”

“I was hoping you’d say that, because it’s delicioso. But if you change your mind, you tell Milly, okay?”

“Thanks, Milagros,” said Isa, smiling shyly at her.

“Yes, thank you,” I said. I wasn’t sure how she’d just sucked the tension right out of the air, but the girls were contentedly sipping their drinks, and Shiloh had begun chatting with Hector in Spanish. Maybe Milagros could give me a few pointers later on.

“No need to thank me!” she protested. “Now, niñas,” she said to Charlotte and Isa, “it’s been years since I’ve seen you. Tell me everything.”

FIFTEEN

“Morning, sleepyhead.” Shiloh was standing next to the bed with a small ceramic mug of espresso. Birds were chirping just outside our window, and sun had begun to spill through the gaps in the wood blinds.

“I’m still dreaming, right?” I murmured as I pushed myself into a sitting position and accepted the mug from him. It had been years since I’d woken up on my own, without an alarm, and had my husband present me with fresh coffee before I’d even thrown the covers off. “Leave me here.”

“Not dreaming,” he said with a smile. His hair was wet, and he smelled ever so faintly like soap, which told me he’d just gotten out of the shower. “Happy cancerversary. How do you feel?”

“Good,” I said, because it was true for a change. The rest of the night before had been blessedly uneventful; to my relief