The room is quickly filled with smoke. It burns my eyes and throat, and the music is too loud. It hurts my ears. I don’t like it. Sammy’s parties are not good. But Sammy’s parties bring him here so I don’t tell Jack.

Maria rushes across the room and tries to grab me away. I avoid her hands and hide behind my brother.

“Maria. Dame un abrazo y un beso. ¡Eres bella.”

I don’t know what Sammy said. Maria looks unhappy. Rapidly, she fires back. “Llamo Señor Jack. No se permite estar aquí cuando no está página. Las partes. No son buenos para la niña.”

Sammy pouts and he is tickling her and trying to hug her and trying to kiss her, and Maria is angry, but she is laughing and shaking her head.

“No esto no es bueno. Llamo Señor Jack,” Maria says in a frantic tone.

Sammy sinks on the arm of a couch. “No, Maria. No llame el Señor Jack”

I watch, hidden behind my brother, smiling. Whatever they are arguing about, Sammy is getting his way. But of course he would. Everyone loves Sammy.

Maria holds out her hand for me. “Niña. A la cama.”

I take Maria’s hand. I look at my brother. “Come later to say goodnight. Don’t leave without saying goodnight.”

He crosses his heart. He smiles at me. “Never, baby girl.”

We are almost to the door. I smile at Vince. He ignores me. To Maria he says, “Llama al Señor Jack. Y llamo la inmigración.”

I feel Maria shaking. The color is gone from her face and her fingers are so tight around mine that they hurt. She nods.

“Fuck, Vince! Why did you say that to her? She wasn’t going to call Jack.”

Maria stares at Sammy. She stares at Vince, and then she quickly pulls me down the hall to my bedroom. She has that look again, afraid and crying without tears. I see it in her eyes, but there are no tears on her cheeks as she tucks me into my bed.

I do not know what the strange look on her face means.

“Los amigos de su hermano. Son diablos.”

I don’t know what she said. I give her a hug. I watch as she closes the door. I listen to the party.

The minutes pass very slowly and I hate them. Sammy doesn’t come and he promised. Even though the house has quieted, his friends have left, Sammy hasn’t come as he promised.

I climb from bed and peek out my door. The hallway is dark. Maria has gone to bed. Good. I don’t like upsetting Maria. She would be upset that I am not in bed asleep.

I tiptoe down the hall. I am nearly to the living room, but I hear voices from the other part of the house. They are in Daddy’s bedroom. I follow the angry voices and I stop in the hallway, peeking in.

Sammy is arguing with Vince. Why are they fighting? I thought they were best friends like me and Rene. I never see Sammy without Vince.

Vince storms out of the room. He brushes past me without a word. I am pushed back into the wall. The front door slams. I look in the room. Sammy is sitting on the bed. He looks so sad. I don’t like when my brother is sad.

I tiptoe into the room. Sammy’s face snaps up.

“Baby girl, why aren’t you in bed?”

I run across the room. I hug my brother. He looks like he needs a hug. I can feel something strange in him. It feels like Sammy is crying, but I don’t see tears. He exhales slowly in a jerky way.

“Go to bed, Chrissie!”

I shake my head. I don’t like the way my brother looks. I don’t want to leave him. He picks me up.

“Don’t tell Jack,” he says and I know what he is asking. I am not going to tell about the party and the fight.

I nod. I love Sammy. I won’t tell Jack.

“Is Maria good to you?”

I nod.

“I miss Mom.”

I nod. I miss Mommy too.

“How long is Jack gone this time?”

I stare. I don’t know.

Sammy tucks me into bed. He kisses my nose. “I’m glad Maria is here with you. Now go to bed, baby girl.”

“Don’t leave without saying goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” Sammy makes a funny face.

I roll my eyes.

I lie in my bed. I can’t sleep. I don’t know why. The house is very quiet. I climb from bed and tiptoe down the hall. I peek into the room. Sammy is there. I see the drugs. Sammy thinks I don’t see and Jack thinks I don’t understand, but I do see and I do understand and I don’t want to leave my brother.

The floor creaks. Sammy turns. He sees me. “Get the fuck out, Chrissie!”

Why is he angry? Sammy never talks to me that way. I shake my head. I run into the far corner of the room. He was well when he got here. Why is he sick again?

“Go,” Sammy growls. He is reaching for me.

I shake my head. I squirm so he can’t catch me. Sammy lies back on his bed. There is something wrong. He is sweating and breathing hard. He looks so strange. I am afraid. Should I run and get Maria? Should I call Jack?

I watch. The minutes are slow. Sammy looks so strange. He is getting sicker. It is different. I ease out of my hiding place and cross the room. He is breathing so funny and the look in his eyes is very strange.

His flesh is moist and wet when he touches me. His hand is weak and it trembles. Sammy looks so strange.

* * *

Silence. Dead silence all around me.

“No, Chrissie. No. You are remembering it wrong,” Jack says in tortured determination.

“Dammit, you don’t remember something like this wrong, Daddy,” I scream in long-suppressed frustration. “For a long time I thought it was just a nightmare. I mean, wouldn’t we have talked about it if everyone knew I was with my brother when he died? But it’s not a nightmare. It’s real. Maria found me in the morning next to Sammy’s bed. I was with her when she called you. Then Patty Thompson showed up, and the police and they took Sammy away. And Maria kept me in my room. And you showed up, Jack, and you never spoke to me again.”

“Chrissie, I didn’t know you were with him when he died. Maria…” Jack’s voice fades away in a lost way.

“I was there. From the beginning until the end. I didn’t find him. I was in the room. I stayed. I saw. I didn’t understand. You have to believe me. Please, Daddy. Please. Don’t hate me anymore. I didn’t understand. I would have gotten help, but I didn’t understand. He looked so strange and I watched. I watched it all. I just sat there and watched. Oh god…it’s my fault Sammy died. I watched him die and I never got him help. Is that why you hate me? Because it’s my fault Sammy is dead?”

Jack sinks in front of me. He takes me in his arms. “No, Chrissie. I don’t hate you. It wasn’t your fault. It was my fault, baby girl. Sammy had issues. I knew it. I should have been there.”

I wipe frantically at my tears. “I didn’t find Sammy. I was in the room when he did it. I was with him when he died. And it’s been really, really hard because I’ve been so afraid you hate me.”

Chapter Nineteen

Two words. I have never let them out. I’ve guarded them inside me. It is time to let them out. I can’t hold them in any longer. It is time to let them go. To heal. To confront the pain.

“I’m sorry.”

Silence.

“Did you hear me, Daddy? I’m sorry.”

I curl against my father’s chest and I can’t stop saying it: I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…

I thought I would feel better letting it out. I don’t. It is only different. A different kind of weirdness. The weirdness of letting truth into the room.

Jack and I talk through the night, until it feels like there are no words left inside either of us. I don’t know where we go from here. I don’t know if this helps. It doesn’t feel better yet. It only feels different.

Different. Not better. Not worse. Just a different kind of weirdness.

* * *

We sit on the terrace on a double chaise lounge waiting for the sunrise. Now that I’ve grabbed hold of Jack I can’t seem to let go. We’ve finally started the journey we need to finish together.

At some point last night, Alan quietly slipped from the terrace. Light is spreading across the sky and I stare up at Jack. He looks lost in his thoughts, his magnificent blue eyes locked on some indiscernible spot on the horizon. It feels good to hold my dad. It feels good to be held by him. It feels good that we are together.