I called your momma today, JD. Last time I heard her voice was when she was 4 weeks pregnant with you. Last time I saw her, was for her birthday...on February 14, 2007.
It wasn't always like that, you know. The years of silence between us that transpire nowadays are something foreign to our friendship.
It was the first day of first grade. Mrs. Barbarita sat us in alphabetical order in that tiny, dark classroom. Your Mom sat in front of me in every class after that. She's a Hernandez. I'm an Irizarry. All the way til 11th Grade, our last year together. But on that first day of elementary school, she was quiet and nervous and shy. No one spoke to her or even seem to acknowledge she was really there. At lunch time, I noticed she was following me around the school yard and in the cafeteria. Sitting next to me but not really looking at me. The next day, the same thing happened. She seemed to just always be with me, but we never spoke to each other. She was my best friend. I was her only friend.
JD, your mom slept over at my house every other day from that first week of elementary all the way to high school. I'm not kidding you. Your grandmother would come pick her up after being at my house for a week straight, and she'd cry her eyes out and refuse to go home. So she pretty much lived with me most of the time. We'd get up early and share uniforms to school and my mom would check both our notebooks to make sure our homework was done. My mom would comb both our hair and make us dresses, JD. My mom is your adoptive grandma. She loves you too, by the way.
In second grade, your momma shaved her eyebrows completely off at my house one night. The next morning, I drew them in with eyeliner and fixed her bangs so that it would cover them. That same year, when we were 7, I had my tonsils taken out and your momma came to see me at the hospital that same day. I woke up from anesthesia to her crying draped over me on the hospital bed asking me not to die. I couldn't really talk because my throat hurt, but I patted her hair and whispered I was fine and gave her one of my Lisa Frank pencils I had gotten as a Get Well gift. She lifted the ice pack from my throat and kissed my neck.
When we were 8, your grandfather was in a really bad wreck and was in a coma for a week. Your Mom was so scared and stayed with us for about a month straight while your grandpa was in a hospital out of town. She kept asking me if your grandpa was still handsome (his face was reconstructed due to the accident) and I'd tell her that he looked just the same, even better. That the important thing was that he was alive and he would talk normal one day again. She seemed content with just taking my word for it. She trusted me always. I trusted her.
When we were 10, I stayed over at your mom's house and we sat in front of her mirror at midnight, chanting a chorus that was part of an urban legend. After the third chant, a lady called Mary would appear in the mirror and we had to turn on the lights or she'd leave marks on our bodies. We got as far as the second chant before we heard a noise outside and ran scared for cover under the heavy comforter. We held each other and said Hail Mary's until we fell asleep. The next morning, she had scratches on her back. We never told anyone.
She kissed my first crush, Alex, in front of me one night at a pool party when we were 12 and dated him for a year after that. I never once felt angry or hurt with her, even though til this day she still apologizes.
At 13, we had our first kiss. With each other. It was awesome.
At 14 your grandparents moved to another town and took her to a new middle school. A week later, I had arranged to be transferred to that new school and my family found ways to drive me to that new town every morning so I could be in school with you.
At 15, we both tried cocaine together at her uncle's house. I felt ashamed. She got hooked. I never tried it again and a month later, I took her to live with me for a while til she cleaned up. It was rough and she tried to quit her life a few times during that time...but I'd lay there at night and talk about how she was my sister and how she needed to hang on one more day...Because we had to grow old together. We had to have our double wedding...raise our kids together...Live next to each other.
Life happened, JD. I was a bad friend to your mom. I've been in and out of her life, sometimes for years at a time, since I left PR in 1999. She wrote to me and called me every day during the first two years I was gone...I stopped answering her letters. I changed my phone number. I got married. I moved away even further. She was never a part of any of it. Yet every time I called her out of the blue, she would talk to me like we had just spoken the day before. Normal. About her day at work and a guy she was seeing. About her grandmothers passing away and her parents divorcing. All these things happening in her life, while I was MIA.
Then she got married, to your dad, two years ago. I got an email with a picture of her in her wedding dress, that same day of the wedding. It simply read: "I miss you. You should be here. I love you, sis." I cried for a while in my room, staring at her pic. Feeling like scum for not being there...not even in a call. I sent her a text back saying I'd call her soon...
A year later she sent me another email with a picture of you, still inside her belly. That email said "Still waiting for a call. I miss you and love you as always, Sis. Please. Call." I felt even worse, JD. I promised myself I'd call her that night after work...
I called her today, on your 8 month birthday. You've been in the world for 8 months...JD. My most precious nephew. You look like her. Your nose especially. You also look like your aunt, Desiree. I'm sorry I wasn't there to greet you into the world. I'll make it up to you...
Thank you for making your Mom so very happy. For keeping her level headed and responsible for me. For helping make the right choices, when I haven't been around to help.
She won't let me go away again, JD. I know it. I don't want to run away anymore. I don't want to miss any more of her moments...and I want to be there for all your firsts, lil man.
I love you,
Tia Yari
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