Page 52 of The Coldest: Stay Dangerous Part 2

Thankfully, Mars is serious about hearing about his dad. He lets me wash and detangle his hair with almost no protests as he plays in the bath. After lotioning himself and putting on his dinosaur pajamas, we climb into his bed and he lays in my lap as I begin to part his hair.

“So, you know how Scrappy is Scooby’s nephew, right? Well, Scooby Doo was the only cartoon character Fredo liked. He and Rico were known around the way as Luney Tune, but your dad didn’t like any of them.”

I feel Mars’s breath start to even out as I braid plaits into his hair. Different times of me braiding Fredo’s hair like this fill my mind. He didn’t wear braids nearly as much as Rico, but the times he would call me sis and smile his crooked smile and ask me to braid his hair, I always said yes. Even after me and Set began to mess around. It almost made me feel like nothing had changed, if only for an hour or two.

“So, when my sister had her son, and everyone would buy babies like plushies and stuff, Fredo got him a Scrappy Doo from the fair. He and my sister were like brother and sister, too, so he’d call Deuce his nephew. And since Scrappy Doo was Scoob’s nephew, he started calling Deuce Deucey Doo. It stuck after a while, and now, we call him Deucey for short. I don’t even know if he knows where it’s from anymore…”

I’m sure Rico got Mars that Scrappy plushie. I finish the last braid on this side, twirling his ends with my finger before grabbing the plushie.

There’s a little tag in the seam. When I flip it over, RTA is written in permanent marker on it.

I’m barely holding myself together as I rearrange Mars in his bed and tuck the Scrappy under his arm. He clutches it tightly, but otherwise sleeps hard and through everything.

Still, I wish him sweet dreams and close his door as quietly as I can.

When I turn, Nan is in the hallway. Her brows aren’t pulled in the center, but she’s still serious as she regards me.

“Goodnight,” I say, trying to be the bigger person.

She just stares at me. Maybe she doesn’t know how to speak English.

And now I’ve been mean for no reason.

She gestures toward the kitchen, and begins to shuffle out of the hallway. Curious, I follow her.

There’s already two steaming cups of tea on the island counter. She rounds it, leaving the one in front of the stool for me.

I climb onto the seat and wrap my hands around the cup, warming my fingers. She blows on the top of her cup before she takes a sip. Even without the calming smell, I know it’s lavender tea. It’s all she drinks–that and water.

“Nan,” I start, “I know you know I don’t know Spanish–”

“Are you learning?” she asks, her accent thick on her tongue.

I can’t help it. My eyes bulge. I thought it was a fluke, me remembering that I could understand her once upon a time.

Clearly not.

“Um–yeah–”

“Not quick enough,” she spits, drinking another sip of her tea.

I take a sip of my own, closing my eyes as the sweetness of the added sugar caresses my tongue.

“You remind me so much of Ayani.”

My eyes pop open.

“Rico’s mother,” she amends, taking another sip before placing her cup on the counter. “That’s not a good thing.”

I tilt my head and sure enough, she continues.

“She loved Pooh Bear more than she loved herself, too. Even when some of that love turned to hate, it wasn’t enough. She couldn’t leave him, even when she couldn’t be with him either. All that love and hate drove herself crazy until she couldn’t take it anymore. And you’re right on the same road as she was.”

We finish our tea in silence. Rico rarely talked about his mother. I found out on a fluke about her funeral, and even that was a lot. After he and Nutty left and they picked Pooh off the floor, it was a blur of everyone trying to act like a brawl didn’t just take place.

But the little I’ve been around Pooh, I believe it. How easy it is to become enthralled by an Alvarez man. And then you add children to the mix.

Did Ayani Alvarez kill herself? Or did she just give up?