“Are you sure you don’t want me to go in with you?”

I heard what Michael said, but my eyes were fixed on the dilapidated apartment building, stretched tall and dank against the cloudy sky. Brick and mortar never seemed more daunting than on this place. Not even children scurrying back and forth on skateboards and scooters made it appear any less awful. The air here wasn’t like that of the quaint part of Jersey that we’d left. This place smelled of cigarette smoke, filth from the nearby open manholes, and exhaust from old, overworked cars. A defeated atmosphere hung about, unwilling to dissipate as if it were some sort of permanent fog. There was no panic attack this time because I wasn’t afraid of my aunt’s home. I hated it.

After a while, I realized I hadn’t answered him so I took a deep breath and unlocked my car door. “Yeah. I won’t be long.”

I didn’t spare him a glance as I got out. Seeing his face would make me chicken out and want to stay there, or maybe beg him to drive me the hell out of here. I couldn’t do that. My mom deserved better.

I walked across the cracked sidewalk and into the courtyard that split the building into two sections. The building itself had four floors and last time I checked, hers was on the second. Part of me prayed that she wouldn’t still be living here but I knew my luck wasn’t that good.

I ascended the stairs and walked to Room 234, raising my fist to knock on the door. My hand hung in the air above the faded forest green paint for a long moment until I worked up the nerve. Two knocks. Nothing. Three, this time. Nada. Four knocks.

The ancient doorknob turned. I stepped back and stared into the face of Carmensita Durante.

Her eyes were grey, but not the same kind of grey as a cloudy sky. They were dark and dirty like cigarette ash. Smoke curled up from the lit coffin nail clutched in her bony hand. She hadn’t aged well. Her skin was yellowed from years of chain smoking and hung from her skull like a turkey’s jowls. Her hair was all grey and pulled into a tight bun. Her clothes were simple as always: pink blouse with a scoop neck, black skirt, and faded blue slippers. The only thing that had changed about Aunt Carmen’s demeanor was that she was shocked to see me.

“Hola, tia,” I said, shoving my hands in the pockets of my duster. My fingers wrapped around the rosary self-consciously. Sure, she wasn’t technically a demon, but there were plenty of times during my childhood that I thought her to be inhuman.

In mere seconds, the surprise trickled out of her aged face to be replaced with the same harsh stoicism I’d seen for years.

“Hola, chica. It’s been a long time, no?”

“Yes, it has.”

She tapped ashes from the end of her cigarette, crossing one thin arm beneath the other and taking a drag on the cig. “What do you want?”

I licked my lips, trying to figure out the most delicate way to ask. “I was at the psychiatric hospital looking for things about Mom. They said they forwarded the rest of her things to you. Can I take a look?”

Aunt Carmen stared at me for a long moment before blowing out a stream of smoke inches away from my left cheek. I didn’t flinch. She grunted at me and opened the door all the way. “Fine. Come in.”

I stepped inside and immediately shut down all my senses. Cigarette smoke permeated anything vaguely resembling oxygen in this apartment. To my surprise, a few things had changed. The old tan couch made of scratchy cotton had disappeared and a green couch sat in its place, though the usual stains and burn holes were there. A dirty glass table covered in magazines sat in front of it, reflecting images from the large TV propped up on a set of phonebooks nearby. The kitchen was to my right, but I could only see the fridge and part of the counter from where I stood. Past the den lay the bedrooms. I hoped she wouldn’t make me go back there to see her husband Rico, provided that he was even home.

Aunt Carmen brushed past me and grabbed a small glass from the coffee table that had an amber liquid in it. I didn’t even need to guess—Jose Cuervo. Her favorite kind of tequila. Such a charming woman.

I took a deep breath and forced myself to speak up. “Where are her things?”

She drained the glass and set it back down before answering. “It’s been eighteen years, chica. Do you really think I kept them all? I sold all her valuable stuff and threw the rest out with the garbage.”

Anger flared up my body so fast that I got dizzy. I clenched my hands into fists and reminded myself it was unwise to punch an old woman in the face, even if she deserved it. Instead, I just shook my head.

“Cold bitch,” I spat.

Her bony hand lashed out and hit my right cheek, leaving a patch of my skin stinging. It made me flinch, but not stumble.

“Don’t you dare speak to me like that in mi casa, morena del Diablo! I took you in when you had nowhere else to go, puta,” she shot back, eyes narrowed to slits.

“Forgive me if I’m not grateful,” I growled back. “But you weren’t exactly Surrogate Mother of the Year. If it’s all the same to you, I’d have rather been raised by wolves. They’d have been cleaner and nicer than you ever were.”

She spat contemptuously at my feet. “You think that’s funny, eh? What else would you have done if not for me? Found your deadbeat father? He didn’t want you any more than your loca mama—”

I took a step forward, putting myself mere inches from her face. The anger boiled hot in my stomach and flowed down my arms like a scalding tidal wave.

“Don’t you call her that again in front of me or I will break you over my knee like a twig, old woman. Now do you have anything from my mother in this shithole you call a home or not?” I snarled.

She didn’t back down, just stared at me with scorn. “On top of the bookshelf there is a picture. You may have that,” Aunt Carmen said, pointing to her left. Against the wall was a short wooden shelf where pictures of her children and other ancient magazines had been stacked.

I walked over and knelt, seeing a picture frame that had been turned over. I lifted it and found an 8x10 inch photo of my mother when she was close to my age. Even this horrible place couldn’t lessen her beauty. Slowly, the rage subsided and I could think straight once more.

I picked it up and headed for the door. Aunt Carmen decided this was a good time to start in on me like she used to before I left.

“Go on, go! Leave the only family you have, selfish brat! We live like cucarachas in this place without enough food or clothes, but that doesn’t bother you, does it? You aren’t good for anything, niña. You never will be. You’re gonna end up like your pathetic mama someday and I won’t be there to even take enough time to spit on your grave.”

I yanked the door open and walked out, only to find myself face to face with Michael.

“I told you to wait downstairs,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

Michael’s face had a stoic quality to it that led me to believe he’d heard either most or all of our conversation. “Sorry.”

I shook my head and turned my back on my aunt, beckoning the archangel. “Let’s go.”

“Just a second.” To my surprise, he brushed past me and walked over to one rather surprised Aunt Carmen, offering his hand.

“Michael O’Brien. I just had to meet you.”

She spared him a suspicious look, shaking his hand once as she eyed him. “You got something to say to me?”

Michael flashed her a stunning smile, the kind that made women weak in the knees, and tucked his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he shook his head.

“Y’know, there were a lot of things I thought I’d say to you if we ever met, but I never thought that I’d say thank you.”

My eyes widened. Aunt Carmen’s did as well. “‘Scuse me?”

Michael continued on in a calm, polite voice, though the smile evaporated into nothing, leaving his handsome face serious as a heart attack. The air around him seemed to fill to the brim with static. I could feel the waves of anger flowing out of him in my lungs, in the back of my throat, in the pit of my stomach, as if our bodies had melded into one.

“I said thank you. If it weren’t for your cruelty, your cowardice, your selfishness, and your ignorance, then the woman standing behind me might not have come to be. It’s not your fault that your mother treasured your younger sister more than you and showered her with love and praise. I know how that must have made you feel. You became bitter and resented the both of them, so as soon as the opportunity presented itself, you leapt into action to betray your sister. When the hospital called to hand custody of Jordan over to you, it was like Christmas morning, wasn’t it? What better revenge on Catalina then to break her daughter beyond repair? But then something happened, something unexpected. That girl you worked so hard to destroy grew up and became the very person you hated the most. She is beautiful, kind, intelligent, and full of life. I’ve been around for a very long time, Mrs. Durante. Her kind of radiance is rare in this world. So I hope for your sake that you someday have enough sense to ask for her forgiveness because if you don’t…there is a place waiting for you where they won’t take as much pity on you as I have. You have a nice evening, ma’am.”

With that, he turned around and walked down the hallway. Before I followed, I noticed the utter shock on Aunt Carmen’s face mixed with a very human expression of fear, perhaps remorse. Served her right.

I caught up with Michael after a few paces, matching the stride of his long legs. We walked in silence towards the steps, serenaded by the crickets and car horns surrounding the dingy apartment complex.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he replied, descending the stairs with me at his heels.

I sighed, mostly because I knew I could never stay mad at him. “Thank you.”

Just as we reached the last few steps, my shoe snagged on the rusted railing and I pitched forward. Michael whirled around and caught me in a blur of motion. For a handful of seconds, his large hands suspended me above him and I stared down into his face, breathless, my head fuzzy with thoughts it had no business entertaining. A slow smile touched those full lips and I felt the vibrations from his chest as he spoke since we were pressed so close together.

“You’re welcome.”