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“At these ceremonies [celebrations]—whether national, local, professional, or family—Mexicans open themselves up to the outside world. All of them provide an opportunity to reveal themselves and engage in dialogue with the divine, their homeland, friends, or relatives.”
— Octavio Paz, El laberinto de la soledad (1950)
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I
When Ernesto proposed to Gwen, they never imagined the problems that lay ahead.
Well, if she were honest, she should have noticed the warning signs when they became boyfriend and girlfriend in 1981. In her defense, love blinded her to several things, such as the fact that her father still distrusted Ernesto, the boy's mother distrusted her family, and Gwen still lived in a dysfunctional household due to her brother's trauma.
Love didn't solve any of that.
When the news reached both families, everyone had their own opinion.
On the Blake side, her father had to ask for a few moments alone in the bathroom to wipe away the tears that had been streaming down his face since the couple arrived, and Ernesto -like a true gentleman- formally asked for the girl's hand in marriage.
With Finn, she planned to tell him on a quick trip to Houston. What Gwen didn't expect was that her father would cry on the phone about the news. She could still remember the 150 calls she received in a single day from her brother and the messages on her answering machine that ranged from disbelief to annoyance at not knowing the news in advance.
On the Arellano side, it was like a family negotiation.
After Robin's death, Ernesto became Mrs. Arellano's only son. Although she had brothers, sisters-in-law, parents, and grandparents, the last member of her nuclear family -built through marriage-was her little baby in his twenties.
She wasn't locking her son away in the highest tower of a castle. No. She was evaluating who he would live with as an adult, and that someone was Gwen Blake, sister of Finney Blake, the sole survivor of the Galesburg Grabber and friend of her eldest son, Robin Arellano.
Her initial impressions were like sugar in oil.
She had known the woman since she was a girl. She was kind, respectful, and somewhat comforting when her mother passed away.
After the kidnapping.
The situation became more uncomfortable to bear.
“It's a beautiful ring,” she said that afternoon when they invited her to lunch at the family gathering held to celebrate the engagement. “It reminds me of the one your father Ernie gave me when we got engaged.”
“Well, I saw some photos, Mom, and I based it on the shape,” replied her shy son, “but I did base the gem on Gwen's tastes.”
“Nice choice... the sapphire,” she took a sip of her drink. “And your brother, Gwen? The invitation was for him too.”
“He's in Houston,” replied the girl, moderating her manners. “He wanted to ask for a few days off, but decided it would be better to take the days of the wedding.”
"Ah, yes. Working life,“ the woman reflected, brushing her straight, long, dark hair between her fingers, ”is more complicated than it seems in this country.“ Those brown eyes reflected a certain curiosity. ”Tell me, Gwen, what do you do for a living?"
“Well...” the girl didn't know if she was in a job interview. “I recently left my job at Little Burger and decided to focus on my own business.”
The woman raised an eyebrow. A sign to continue.
“It's about esotericism and stuff...” she confessed quietly so that the other family members wouldn't hear.
“Magic, you mean?”
“It's her business venture, ma´” Ernesto interrupted, his face full of embarrassment. “Gwen will explain it to you when she opens it. Grandma used to say it was bad luck to talk too much about a business venture because it would jinx it."
“And have you thought about focusing on this business, or have you already thought about children?”
Both young people had to babble incoherently, embarrassed by the subject of children.
Mrs. Guadalupe just chuckled quietly before wishing the couple luck and giving them her blessing.
Marrying a descendant of braceros meant adapting to new customs—ones Ernesto was understanding enough to explain in detail, along with their respective pros and cons. He was realistic in his comment: “I can’t force anyone to think differently from who they are, but I can promise you this: if any of those opinions ever affect you or Finn, then of course I can step in and talk to them.”
Therein lay the main knot in organizing an event like a wedding: the guests.
The groom's family might have consisted of just him and his mother, but uncles, aunts, cousins, and nephews had to be included. Most of them lived in the United States, but an event like the wedding of the “only son of...” was not overlooked in the Arellano family, so the groom's grandparents and close relatives were planning their trips to attend the event.
The total number of guests was twenty times greater than Gwen's three guests: her father, her brother, and Sussie, who would be her only bridesmaid.
So, faced with an imbalance in the invitations, she had to pull out her family directory.
On Blake's side, there were only a few of her father's aunts whom she didn't even remember, but Finn did, so she asked his opinion, but he immediately dismissed them.
On Adler's side, she had several aunts, her mother's sisters who lived outside the city. She remembered them a little better because they had attended her mother's funeral. She remembered her grandfather a little, but he now lived closer to New Mexico, so inviting him would mean paying for his trip, and that was not in the wedding budget.
She was surprised when her grandfather confirmed that he would attend and not only that, but that he would pay for the trip himself.
The news began to make her closest relatives uncomfortable.
Her father had not been on good terms with her father-in-law since Hope died, and the family violence had increased. Although her grandfather asked them to live with him for a while, Terrence refused and forbade him from criticizing the way he raised his children.
And when Finney disappeared, he also ordered them not to interfere in his affairs.
Gwen didn't believe that if her maternal family had helped with the case, her brother would have been found quickly, but she did believe that if they had offered to take him in again when Finn returned, things would have been different.
But pride got in the way of that situation.
The image of the father who commits himself to his children was the remedy that Terrence Blake believed was necessary for his family's sins to be forgiven.
Now there was only one version left in that family. Gwen didn't know if she could call it “new” or ‘improved’ because “remnant of...” was more appropriate.
A remnant of trauma.
Ernesto and his mother were also remnants of the tragedy of losing their brother and son, respectively. A remnant sustained and healed by the family bond they had.
What did the Blakes have?
That was the best question Gwen's subconscious always asked her, because her answer amused her. They had trauma and stubbornness.
They were stubborn by nature.
II
The problem with being a weird girl was that she had no friends.
Sussie was her biggest support during the ordeal of trying on her wedding dress.
Part of Ernesto's family wanted him to stick to family traditions and wear the Guadalupe dress.
His father wanted him to wear his mother's dress.
Sussie interrupted everything and asked her, "What do you want to wear? A fancy dress, a plain dress? What style? Do you want it to be red like Lydia's in Beetlejuice?”
And with that, she dismissed the family's opinions.
The trends were minimalist styles, silk, and little lace. Gwen didn't think she had the figure for that kind of dress, so she went into a crisis that led her down two paths: an extreme diet or resigning herself to the family dress.
But like a fairy godmother who solved any problem, Finney paid for a solution with her savings.
“There's someone I know who lives in California,” he told her on the phone, "who can knit you any dress you want to fit your figure.”
It turned out that the supposed solution was a seamstress who lived in the famous Beverly Hills area. Gwen wanted to back out and go back where she came from, but she hadn't worked long hours at that exploitative Little Burger for nothing, and her brother was paying for the dress for a reason.
If she wanted to get married like a princess, she would get married like a damn princess.
And if it was necessary to defend her dream.
She would do it.
Unlike the looks they got walking down those streets, as if they were two outlaws from the countryside, the seamstress turned out to be kinder than the two girls had imagined.
She was large and heavy, but she moved her hands like a careful expert, giving the girl the kindness she expected.
Following her recommendations, combined with Gwen's ideas, the dress would be tailored to the bride's figure. They opted for pearl satin, which would not shine like silver but like the warm halo of the sun. The neckline and arms would feature intricate lace patterns; the skirt would have a little volume to enhance movement—at the bride's request—but the train would be the star alongside the veil. Fine tulle fabric with lace and stones encrusted around the edges. Both would be considerably long so that they would stand out when she arrived at the ceremony, but they were also designed so that they would not be a problem at the reception.
Gwen wasn't lying when she cried while trying on the first prototype of her dress. Perhaps she got a little upset when the seamstress told her about her relationship with her brother. It was all because of the famous Ethan Prince, but it was a passing thing and didn't stop her from crying again when she saw her finished dress.
With one of her problems solved, the second and most difficult part of a wedding began.
The reception.
With a considerable number of guests, many of Ernesto's family members hoped that the party would be held in Mexico, but another part of the family argued that for the convenience of the bride's guests, it would be better to hold it in Colorado; they just had to find the right venue.
That led the couple to search in areas near Denver.
Ernesto's mother helped them in their search for a good venue. In the end, she paid for the venue for the benefit of the bride and groom. “It's my gift,” she said with a tired smile. “The last thing their marriage needs is to start with debt.”
Their third problem was the bridesmaids.
Several of Ernesto's cousins wanted to be bridesmaids, but Gwen rejected them in the most diplomatic way possible. She didn't know any of them, even though they would soon be family. It didn't occur to her to include her own cousins, so Sussie was the only bridesmaid she would have. Her friend suggested making Finn her second bridesmaid, but she was terrified and rejected the idea.
As a result of her only choice, Ernesto also thought it appropriate to have only one groomsman, who would be a cousin.
Sussie helped her find some nice decorations. Instead of the typical bouquets of flowers that would be placed on the tables and decorate the church, they opted for fabric garlands and red flowers to add color. Her friend recommended the decorations made by a family friend, whom she knew to be reliable in her work.
“I don't know if it's a good idea to get married,” Gwen once confessed to her friend outside the church. "There are so many things... I don't know if I'll enjoy that day.
“Oh, come on,” said the girl, taking a cigarette out of her pocket. "One day, when you're more wrinkled than a raisin, you'll remember that day and think, ‘What a fucking day I had. ’ You'll even tell your grandchildren about it, I bet you that.”
Gwen wanted to believe that her wedding should be a cause for celebration. Not for stress and despair.
III
The big day arrived.
The heat of summer was still in the air, the warm nights before the rainy season.
It was a perfect sunset, which Gwen took as a good sign for her wedding.
Since morning, she had been busy with her final preparations.
She was spending time with relatives she hadn't seen in years. She decided to ignore the tensions for the sake of her mental health, and one guest still hadn't arrived.
“Dad,” Gwen didn't hesitate to leave her room even though she still had a long way to go to finish getting ready and show him how she looked in her dress. She didn't care that her father was stunned by how beautiful she looked, like a princess, his eyes seemed to scream as they began to cry with emotion.
“Dad,” she insisted, “don't you know anything about Finney? Has he arrived yet?”
“No, I don't know anything about him,” he admitted, wiping away his tears, “but you look beautiful, Gwenny...”
“Dad,” she interrupted, somewhat desperate, “what do you mean you don't know anything about Finney?”
Her father coughed. “I spoke to him yesterday. He told me he was going to take a flight or something.”
That made the woman even more nervous.
Even though she was ready for the event, the uncertainty of not knowing anything about her brother led her to have these bouts of sentimentality. Did I do the right thing by getting married? Could this be a divine test? Was she doomed to feel inferior?
Even as a treacherous tear slid down her makeup, she couldn't stop looking in the mirror and wondering if she was on the right path in life.
When they entered the delay period to get to the church, Gwen began to believe that her brother would not come because of what it meant: that his survivor's guilt would be seen as selfishness on the part of the guests who would be there.
His drug addiction had been the talk of the neighborhood for years.
Feeling that pressure again was a natural response, Gwen understood, holding back her tears.
Now she felt guilty for inviting her brother to such a public event.
“No,” she thought, keeping her gaze steady, "it's your day, it's your happiness.”
That mantra stuck in her head like a louse in her hair.
Carried by her father, she watched the streets go by, saw the people, the cars, the shops, and houses that were so familiar and yet so distant. She blamed her sentimentality, but she couldn't help thinking about the past. How much had she been marginalized because of her dreams? and even the future. If I have children, will they also be marginalized because of this cursed gift?
“Dad,” she called in a voice so low it sounded like a whisper, "what did you think when you married Mom?
Her father replied, with the proudest and most sentimental voice that man could muster for that situation “happy, I felt so happy to marry her. She was pregnant with you, and I still remember when we danced the waltz with your brother in our arms. I bet she felt the same way, and right now...“ His voice broke, and with a pitiful croak, he finished, ”I bet she would be proud of you.”
The girl's eyes were so wet they could have been compared to an Olympic swimming pool.
They arrived at the church with all the guests waiting for her.
Many were already seated, others were smoking or chatting outside, but just seeing her arrive was the signal to finish everything and take a seat in one of the pews.
Sussie adjusted her dress at the church entrance. She adjusted her long veil so that its length and finish would shine. She smoothed her skirts and finally carefully wiped away her tears. “You look like a princess, a real one, not like that silly Regina.”
The comment made her giggle.
With everything ready, she looked ahead to where she could see Ernesto at the altar. She was trembling, yes, but just seeing her, they exchanged a smile that calmed any of her concerns.
He was wearing his black suit, decorated with a white rose in his jacket pocket, his glasses, and his hair combed back to give him more poise. Gwen thought he looked ridiculous because her boyfriend was so shy.
There was just one small problem: her father wasn't comfortable walking beside her.
“This is no time for regrets,” the woman muttered under her breath so the guests wouldn't hear. Her father shook his head, tears in his eyes, and pointed outside. “I feel like your brother will do a better job,” he said.
As soon as she heard him, she turned around, trembling.
There he was.
Dressed in a beautiful blue suit, her brother was putting something in his pants pocket and greeting her with a smile. “Didn't you say this was Gwen's day and only for Gwen?”
She threw herself into his arms, forgetting protocol, and didn't stop kissing him all over his face, even when she smudged her lipstick.
“We can still change our minds, huh?” her brother joked, giving her a big hug. “Come on, Gwen, your guests are eager to eat cake.”
The music played.
They entered.
And Gwen couldn't help but cry her eyes out during that time. She felt fulfilled, with a confidence that only Finn knew how to instill when they were together. They grew up together and would probably do something silly together; this was one of those moments, she thought.
Throughout the ceremony, the sound of a flash piqued her curiosity. She didn't remember if she had hired a photographer—perhaps she had forgotten—so when she saw the photographer up close, she realized who it was.
The famous Ethan Prince.
Gwen doesn't know if he turned around to scold his brother, but just for this occasion, she would let it slide.
During the reading of the vows, to her surprise, she didn't cry, but Ernesto did. He had to stop several times because his tears made the speech he had prepared illegible. He apologized to her, but she just kissed him on the cheek and told him to continue.
“Then, by the power vested in me by God, I now pronounce you husband and wife...”
The girl stepped forward and completed the words with a kiss.
The priest resigned himself. “You may kiss the bride...”
The whole place was filled with applause and congratulations. Of the two families, none were happier than the Arellanos.
The next thing before the reception was an impromptu photo session that the photographer had prepared for them.
“I have several ideas that are far from conventional,” he told the couple. “Finn told me that you are someone who likes the unconventional, so you will like this idea.”
They took photos inside and outside the church.
With the family, alone, even with the priest, but Gwen liked none of them more than the gift at the reception.
Finney approached her, pulling a key out of his pocket, which at first excited the girl. “Since you suffered working at Little Burger, Dad and I decided to reward you.”
The scream he let out caught the attention of those present.
It was a 1972 Ford Torino, bright red from having been recently polished. It was clearly used, but it had been maintained so well that it looked like it had just rolled off the factory floor twenty years ago. He was so excited that he understood the photographer's idea for an “unconventional” photo shoot.
The main photograph was with her car. She leaned on it while the wind blew her veil and skirts, revealing the cowboy boots she wore for the occasion.
Then she continued her full session with Ernesto.
They took photos of her eating at a food stall, others in the car, but the girl thought that the first photo accurately reflected her concept of the unusual.
That's why she was the star that her now wife said she was.
“I thought you weren't with my brother anymore,” Gwen said to the photographer when they were alone.
“Oh no, we're not,” he said calmly. “Didn't he tell you?”
“Of course he told me. I'm just wondering why he contacted you.”
“Well, I'm a good photographer, and my career was in a kind of creative block. Photographing weddings isn't my forte, but I loved getting out of my routine. Besides, I owed Finn a small favor from the last time we saw each other.”
IV
Once Sussie told him not to worry about Ernesto's large family and his mother's love for her only child.
Because Finn and she were worse.
They were like two peas in a pod. That's why she understood Ernesto's mother's feelings about letting go of her son.
But Finney was like an uncomfortable celebrity in the room.
Neither side of the family knew how to deal with him.
And adding fuel to the fire was the fact that Finn didn't want to live with them either.
This gave rise to malicious comments.
Many didn't say it to his face, but you could hear the whispering of some guests, the looks and the finger-pointing. Gwen wanted to say something to them, but more than once Finn stopped her with a simple “I don't care.” In previous years, this situation would have been cause for a beating from her brother.
She respected that her brother didn't want to get caught up in responding to the accusations with violence, since it was his wedding and he was someone who had seen violence... "I'm really not interested. Maybe if they make another offensive comment, I'll come out to defend myself. They're just curious about who we are.”
What was an uncomfortable embarrassment were those relatives who came over to strike up a conversation.
Many remembered the man as Robin's friend, but after the kidnapping, he became known as “the one who survived instead of...”. Gwen bet that some family members -even Arellano's own mother- thought that, so she didn't think she was crazy to think that the same idea had popped into their heads again at the party.
Why did John Finney Blake have the right to live?
People tended to speak from their own perspective; it was normal -someone who went through hell should be grateful to be able to live what others fought to do- she heard someone say in a certain situation. That became a silent guilt and an accusation about how the man was leading his life. The drug addiction he fell into, some said, was nothing more than the consequence of the indecency of his life: a dead mother, an alcoholic father, an unstable environment.
Why did the one with a shitty family have to live?
More kids could have a better future than his.
Some of the kids didn't have perfect families; Vance and Billy were a clear example. Their mothers were divorced and worked extra shifts to support their children. They cried when they found them, gave them a sacred burial, and sadly, moved on with their lives.
The other boys from perfect families -Robin, Bruce, and Griffin- came from different backgrounds, yes, but they shared the same fate: they were dead. Their remains were handed over to their families and buried in places they deemed appropriate.
Who could say that if any of them had lived instead of Finney, they wouldn't have followed the same path as him?
Perhaps with their families and the help they had, they would have gotten ahead. They would have had stable futures, almost like something out of a child's best dreams.
But the future is a coin toss, and you don't know the outcome until you live it.
Besides.
Those children helped stop the cycle of abduction and death.
But they couldn't tell their family that spirits from beyond the grave had saved Finney from the same fate. If Hope was called crazy for talking about her dreams, who could assure the Blakes that they wouldn't start repeating the same pattern with Finney? They did it with Gwen when rumors spread about the dreams she had and how they led her to the Grabber's house.
Terrence couldn't risk such situations.
Bruce's mother once visited them to tell them how upset she was that her son was dead instead of Finney. She was on the verge of despair, anguish, and frustration. It was her husband who had to take her away and apologize for the situation.
Vance's mother avoided them whenever she saw them on the street.
Griffin's family moved to another state.
Billy's mother tried to take her own life.
And the Arellano family, well, it was Finn who couldn't stand to see them. He felt a guilt that gnawed at him until it weakened him, so he asked to study in Sacramento, which is why he relapsed into drugs a thousand and one times until finally another overdose led to another medical intervention at the sanatorium.
Now he was facing that terror by living with the family.
“Hello, Finney,” greeted Mrs. Guadalupe, approaching the table where the Blakes and some of the Adlers were sitting. If it were up to him, he would have gone to the most secluded table and been smoking while talking to Ethan about how tiring his job was.
He had already lived with his maternal grandfather and his father in the same space, so maybe he could live with this woman.
“Ernesto told me you're working at NASA,” she said, bringing her glass with her, a mixture of Coke and tequila, diluted with mineral water. “I'm happy for your job.” She didn't look distressed or annoyed, but rather had a kind of calm and melancholic solitude that the effects of alcohol could cause.
“It's no big deal,” he argued with some embarrassment. “I'm just an assistant to the assistant to the assistant to...”
“But Ro-Robin said you always loved space stuff, I still remember,” the woman focused on her drink, “when he saw a rocket downtown. He loved it so much that he kept saying it was the gift he would save up for your birthday.”
They were both speechless.
“Can I ask you something?” Finn said cautiously.
“Sure, hijo.”
“Did you ever feel resentful about how things turned out? About Robin.”
The woman trembled slightly, twisting the rim of her glass with her finger as a way to release the stress. She didn't succeed, because as she turned it over and over, her hand shook and tears welled up in her eyes.
“No, at first I thought they were all together, but when the police officer…” a few treacherous tears fell from her eyes “said that only one had survived and told me how that man operated... I gave up on finding him alive. I just resigned myself to having his remains returned to me. It was the same with your father. Hope, no matter how small, is painful to hold on to.”
“Yes, I also believed in hope,” murmured the man, lighting a cigarette to cope with the situation.
“I think it helped me in a way to endure what I went through,” he said, one of the few times he opened up to people. "Well, the doctor says that resignation also leads people to set off a chain reaction that can end in something fatal.”
He took a long drag on his cigarette, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling, avoiding eye contact with the woman.
Both were good at evading.
Mrs. Arellano was an identical copy of her children. With dark skin, dark eyes, and hair so long and straight that it couldn't help but resemble the long, silky hair Robin had when he died. Dressed in green fabrics, she couldn't bring herself to look at him because she couldn't stop replaying that memory in her mind, where her son talked about the gift he would save for his friend.
“Gwen is a great girl,” she said, turning to the couple who were whispering to each other as they ate a slice of cake they had managed to steal before it was cut according to the ceremony.
"She's very kind and has a good character. Many of my family say she's not good enough for Ernesto, but they said the same thing when I married his father.
That sparked a certain anger in Finn. “What do you mean, not good enough?” He laughed at the repetition of what he considered an absurd comment.
"Are we talking about the same Gwen who used to defend me when they beat me up? Or the girl who was digging in the snow looking for Ernesto's lost glasses? Gwen is a full-fledged mother. It doesn't matter that she says she's terrible with children or cooking, she always stays. She's stubborn by nature, everyone in the family is, and I think she's the definition of those people who stay even if the ship is sinking because she's taking that damn ship to the dock.”
He threw his cigarette into the woman's glass.
“I wish someone had a sister who had to perform CPR on her brother on the verge of an overdose, or who had to get in the bath with him because she didn't trust him to take his own life just by closing the door.”
I sighed and faced her head-on for the first time.
"If your family thinks my sister won't make a good wife, let me tell you that we welcome Ernesto to the fucking Blake family.”
“Well, I was also afraid that Ernesto would get married,” the woman was not intimidated and put her glass down on the table to look at me. “I thought about how they would support themselves or how they would live, but I can't deny that their marriage alone won't be enough. Just as Gwen has her brother, Ernesto has his mother.”
“Of course Ernesto has a great mother,” Finney nodded. “Robin always talked about the houses he built when his father died. It's no wonder I appreciate how much he helped us when my mother passed away.”
“And if you appreciated me so much, Finney, why didn't you come to see me after the kidnapping?” she pointed her finger at him. “I wanted to talk to you, but every time I tried to get close to you, you ran away like a wounded animal to take refuge in drugs. Ernesto told me about the overdoses and the hospitalization. What did you see in my family that you never stopped at my door?”
The tic in Finn's right eyelid twitched, he clenched his fists before stretching them out and letting out a sigh to calm himself.
“Do you think we can talk in private?”
IV
Death is deeply woven into Mexican culture.
Guadalupe was born in a small community along the coast of Michoacán, a state known for the way Día de los Muertos is celebrated, most famously in the town of Pátzcuaro, where the holiday unfolds as a large, communal festival. Before moving to the United States, she visited the area several times with her family, always struck by the riot of colors used to dress the graves of the dead.
Moreover, she did not understand the meaning of death until she experienced it firsthand.
When she met her future husband, he told her about a program that was being offered for Mexicans to go work in the north, beyond the Rio Grande. It was a risky idea, but necessary if they wanted to give their unborn baby a good future.
Robin was one month old, and his father was working hard to secure a place for them to live when they joined him. The journey meant leaving behind everything they had ever known: their family, their customs, their life. And with just the two of them, a baby and his mother, their worries and fears grew. They would travel miles and miles by bus to reach the northern border and cross that great migratory bridge.
Did they have money? No.
They had something simple and tiny, like a dream.
And they used the motivation of their dream to get from Tijuana to California.
Ernesto was born years after their arrival. He did not know Mexico, but his parents and relatives would not let him forget his homeland, its customs, and its language. Even though they visited whenever they could, the situation changed when Rafael died in Vietnam.
The army recommended the cemetery for those killed in combat, but Guadalupe asked that his remains be cremated and sent back south, to the shores of Playa Azul, where they would rest until they were reunited.
His grandmother assured him that everyone always returned to where they were born; it was her family's tradition.
Life changed. Robin became the new man of the house. Her child assured her that he would work hard so that she would not kill herself at work. A child who became Ernesto's father, the rock of the house, and even the new mother who cleaned, cooked, and cared for them when Guadalupe was not there.
Someone with character. Full of courage and bravery... which ended up condemning him.
Three years after Rafael, Robin followed.
The helplessness of his disappearance shocked the family. How could it be that after all they had been through on the road to their new home, this was the mouth of the wolf?
How could a quiet suburb that Rafael and Guadalupe thought they knew so well take their son away from them?
Who could assure them that Ernesto would not be next?
Everyone went out to look for them, but only their remains were returned. She couldn't bear to hear the coroner's report; everything she had been through filled her with such helplessness that she collapsed right there in the morgue.
Guadalupe could still remember how she took her son's body in her arms with kindness. She cradled him and assured her little baby that he no longer had to be brave or feel afraid because his mother had found him, and that was more than enough.
“Daddy will take care of you in heaven, I promise, mi pajarito”
The remains were taken to Playa Azul, and more than once Guadalupe wanted to follow them to be buried three meters underground.
But she didn't, for Ernesto's sake.
That boy who was so similar to his brother. That boy who cried for Robin's absence and who was alive.
The son who continued to live with the Blakes. A son who married a Blake and a son who defended his wife from his family's comments.
A wife, sister of Finney Blake.
“Many will say that we inherited my mother's madness,” said the man leaning against the wall, with nothing in his mouth to serve as a stress reliever, "but I got out of that basement, thanks to them. To Bruce, Billy, Griffin, Vance, and Robin..."
His skin was red with embarrassment.
“Without Robin, I'm sure I would have died, for someone like me who had resigned himself to suffering. Maybe that was the breath of courage I needed.”
He brushed her hair with her fingers.
"Believe me or not, it's up to you. My father told me not to tell anyone. My mother and Gwen have suffered the consequences firsthand. I didn't bring you to see him because... I was ashamed to know that you wouldn't believe me. Because who would believe a family of lunatics that their son spoke to them in that basement?”
Finn snorted.
“My grandfather... says this runs in the family. That his uncles suffered the same thing and both died. More than once I wanted to leave Gwen alone,” he admitted in a low voice, "but I didn't. I couldn't leave her alone. We've been through so much together that leaving would have been selfish.”
He looked away and continued carefully, “You don't know how many times I've wondered if my existence in this world was necessary. What made me different from others? A cursed inheritance or some kind of joke of fate?”
He sucked his lips, holding back the tears in his eyes.
“To this day, I wonder why I live. But even with years of sobriety and relapses, I've realized...” He finally looked at her. "I've realized that life has a certain joy.”
He wanted to leave, but the woman held his arm. “Robin... am I talking about myself in that basement?” Even she couldn't believe what she was asking. She had so many things on her mind. She wanted to scream that what he was saying was a lie, call him crazy, or just cry, but the sensitivity of her heart was what came to the surface.
“No,” he said bluntly. “He talked about his father and Vietnam. More than once, I wanted to know what he thought about leaving his family behind...”
The woman held her breath, and only when she continued did she release the pain she had been carrying inside.
“He told me that another time.”
The tears began to flow again.
“He told me he feels bad for leaving you with so many responsibilities,” the woman laughed at those words, they sounded so much like her son, “but he's fine, he's with his father and... he waits every year for you to visit them in Playa Azul.”
They fell silent. It could have been a second, a minute, an hour. Neither of them counted the time that passed. It was the catharsis that one of them needed. Who? One or both?
It wasn't the immediate solution to all the problems they both carried.
But it was something to simply resign oneself to.