White Lines III by Tracy Brown Page A

cry, mami . Sunny will get herself together, you’ll see.” Despite that reassurance, Jada wasn’t really sure about that. She knew how hardheaded Sunny could be. This relapse could be hard to overcome.
    The sound of glass shattering in the kitchen caused them to put an end to their emotional exchange. Marisol wiped her eyes brusquely, shook her head in exasperation, and the two women rushed in the direction of the kitchen.
    The scene they beheld when they stepped inside was disheartening. Sunny and Patrick stood on opposite ends of the kitchen from one another. Gladys stood near the refrigerator with both hands clasped over her mouth, stunned. Mercedes stood in the center of the room near the island, surrounded by shattered glass, tears cascading down her lovely young face.
    â€œWhat happened in here?” Marisol asked, her eyes scanning the room for blood or other signs of trauma.
    â€œMercedes overheard all the arguing and yelling, and she got upset,” Gladys explained. She looked apologetically at Marisol. “She broke your vase of flowers,” she explained, nodding toward the mess at Mercedes’ feet. “But it’s our fault because we should have left when I said we were leaving.” Gladys shot her son an evil sidelong glance when she made that last comment. Patrick stared at his hands in silence.
    Gladys walked slowly over to Mercedes, the sound of glass crunching under her feet audible. She stopped in front of her granddaughter and waited until Mercedes lifted her gaze to meet hers. Gladys reached forward and wiped Mercedes’ tears.
    â€œDon’t cry,” she said. “Crying won’t fix a thing.”
    Somewhere down inside, those words resonated with Mercedes. Mercedes sniffled, then wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, doing her best to control her heaving chest.
    Gladys stared into Mercedes’ eyes. “You are your father’s child. I see him in you, do you know that?”
    Mercedes nodded slightly. Gladys was a warm and loving grandmother, who told her all the time how similar she was to Dorian.
    Gladys smiled a bit. “If he was here, he would beat your butt for breaking your grandmother’s vase.
    Mercedes slowly came back to herself. “I’m sorry,” she offered meekly.
    Gladys nodded her approval. “Take a deep breath.”
    Mercedes did as she was told.
    â€œGood.” Gladys brushed an errant strand of hair out of Mercedes’ face. “Now listen to Grandma. The adults in this family don’t always do what we’re supposed to do. That goes for all of us, not just a few. We owe you more than the nonsense you’ve had to deal with.”
    Sunny and Patrick were both quiet, convicted. Marisol and Jada looked on in silence.
    â€œBut don’t stoop to our level. Don’t be like us—yelling, screaming, throwing things. You’re better than that. You’re better than us.” Gladys smiled weakly at Mercedes, winked an eye at her. “We don’t get to pick our family. We have to play the hand we’re dealt. And all of us know that this family is a mess.” She laughed. “But hang in there with us. We’re gonna get it together.” Gladys stole a glance at Sunny. “I’m gonna call you tomorrow.” Then she turned to Patrick and coldly stated, “Let’s go.”
    This time, Patrick didn’t hesitate. He quickly mumbled good-byes to Mercedes and followed his mother outside.
    Mercedes was calmer now, thanks to Gladys. She took a deep breath and then walked over to the utility closet to retrieve the broom. Marisol took it from her and sent her upstairs. “Go put your shoes on. Dale and I will take you home to get some of your things.”
    â€œMa, Raul can bring us—”
    â€œ I’m taking her home to get her things!” Marisol was adamant. “ You are staying here.” She shut her eyes against the pain of a migraine coming