When we returned home, Javier was waiting at the airport.
He held a sign that said: Welcome home, Mom.
I laughed.
He hugged me tightly.
“How was it?”
“Perfect.”
He looked at Blanca.
“Thank you for taking care of her.”
“She took care of me,” Blanca said.
Javier carried my suitcase to the car.
On the drive home, he told me he’d found an apartment.
“It’s small. But it’s mine.”
“I’m proud of you.”
He glanced at me.
“I’m starting therapy.”
I reached over and squeezed his hand.
“Good.”
“I want to be the son you deserved.”
“You already are.”
He pulled into my driveway and helped me with my bags.
Before he left, he turned around.
“Mom, I need to tell you something.”
“What?”
“Lucía wrote me a letter from prison. She asked me to ask you to drop the charges.”
I stiffened.
“What did you say?”
“I said no. And I told her I wouldn’t be writing back.”
I exhaled slowly.
“Thank you.”
He nodded.
