It's been so long since Rosita let herself think about the life that was - to really think about it. It feels clumsy to her, something she knows how to do but that she has to feel her way through at first, like walking after her leg has fallen asleep or seeing through bright light when she first wakes up. It feels like old pain, familiar and dull.
No one where she's from really asks questions about the old world anymore. If this were Jesus beside her, if it were Carver, they'd take the information and move on from it just as simply; they'd know she doesn't expect anything from them in return. That she's venting something she needs to let go of, or that she's been thinking about, and then they'll all refocus.
Jacob isn't from her world; she doesn't know, just now, if she's more or less grateful for that, only reminds herself of it and clears her throat before she answers.
"She had - I don't know if they were actually her brothers. I doubt it. I called them tío anyway, and they moved me between them when they could, but they had kids of their own. I saved up the money I got from work I did when I wasn't in school, and - did some things I probably shouldn't have, and I moved out on my own as soon as I could." She looks over at him, trying to see what he thinks of any of it, bracing for pity or embarrassment or maybe even judgment.
"They did their best. They really did. But I always knew I wasn't really their kid, and they knew it too, and it was easier for everyone when they didn't have to take care of me anymore."
no subject
No one where she's from really asks questions about the old world anymore. If this were Jesus beside her, if it were Carver, they'd take the information and move on from it just as simply; they'd know she doesn't expect anything from them in return. That she's venting something she needs to let go of, or that she's been thinking about, and then they'll all refocus.
Jacob isn't from her world; she doesn't know, just now, if she's more or less grateful for that, only reminds herself of it and clears her throat before she answers.
"She had - I don't know if they were actually her brothers. I doubt it. I called them tío anyway, and they moved me between them when they could, but they had kids of their own. I saved up the money I got from work I did when I wasn't in school, and - did some things I probably shouldn't have, and I moved out on my own as soon as I could." She looks over at him, trying to see what he thinks of any of it, bracing for pity or embarrassment or maybe even judgment.
"They did their best. They really did. But I always knew I wasn't really their kid, and they knew it too, and it was easier for everyone when they didn't have to take care of me anymore."