Don’t Make Me Turn This Life Around by Pagán, Camille (top novels of all time txt) 📗

“Do you want me to walk you to the bathroom?” I asked. I would have attempted circus tricks if it would have made her feel better. Charlotte’s blood sugar had remained steady, and her test strips and insulin were still working. But I wasn’t about to celebrate with Milagros looking so worn out.

She shook her head. “I don’t have to go.”

She hadn’t used the bathroom once since we’d arrived, which made me wonder if she was dehydrated. “Have some water,” I said, pressing a water bottle into her hand.

“Gracias,” she said, but after struggling with the lid for a moment she passed it back to me. “Do you mind, mija?”

“Of course not,” I said, trying, and failing, not to worry about her weak grip. I opened it and passed it back to her. “Anything else I can do for you? If you need something, Milagros, just say the word.”

“Gracias,” she said again. My throat tightened as she touched my arm. It wasn’t as though she replaced either of my parents, but her hand on my skin gave me the same feeling of security and warmth that I’d always had when I was with my father. “What I need,” she added softly, “is to leave.”

“Shiloh? Hector?” I said, turning to them. “What do you think? Is it time?”

They looked at each other, then began speaking at the same time. “Not yet,” said Shiloh as Hector said, “Soon.”

“Escucha,” said Hector—listen. Then he said nothing, and then the family next to us was quiet, too, and within a few seconds the whole room was nearly silent. Which was when I realized I could hear twittering from beyond the windows. “The birds wouldn’t be singing if this was a hurricane,” he explained after a moment. “The storm has passed.”

I looked at Shiloh, almost afraid to cheer for fear it was a false alarm. “Maybe so,” he conceded. “But it’s probably a mess out there. There’s no saying if we can get back safely.”

“If we stay until it’s dark, then we’re here until the morning or longer,” said Hector, nodding pointedly at Milagros. “Milly wants to leave. And to be frank, I do, too. With all these people packed in here and the heat only rising, this doesn’t feel any safer to me.”

Shiloh looked at me and I nodded. “Then we go,” he said.

That was when I realized Isa was peering up at me from the tile with alarm.

“Mommy, are we going to die if we go out there?”

I swallowed hard. “Of course not, sweetheart.”

“But you don’t know that,” she insisted.

“No,” I admitted, my eyes flitting to Charlotte. “But what I do know is that it’s time for us to try.”

At least outside we could begin to look for a clinic, a pharmacy—something or someone who might be able to help us keep Charlotte’s medication cool or replace it if need be.

Leaving the shelter was no easy feat, since so many people were just as eager to head home. But the possibility that help awaited elsewhere was enough to keep my spirits afloat as we slogged through the crowd and parking lot. Once we were making our way down the road, however, that hope nose-dived. The corner stores, grocers, and pharmacies we passed were shuttered; many had plywood nailed over their doors. Even pulling up to Milagros’ house and seeing that it was relatively undamaged, at least from the outside, wasn’t enough to lift my mood. Yes, a roof was important—but not as important as insulin.

“Gracias a Dios!” exclaimed Hector, climbing out of the Jeep. He opened the passenger door and embraced Milagros. “Amor, it’s fine. It’s all fine.”

Milagros let him help her out of her seat, then put a hand on her heart as she stood on the gravel driveway. “Ay bendito.”

“What will we eat?” I whispered to Shiloh as we surveyed the house. We had water—we’d filled several large pots before heading to the shelter, knowing that the pressure would slowly dwindle and eventually disappear until the electricity returned. But I only had three more protein bars, which would hardly be enough to get Charlotte through the day, and whatever had been left in the fridge would no longer be edible.

“We have some canned goods and some dry rice, and if we can figure out how to cook the rice, that should be balanced enough to make sure her blood sugar doesn’t tank,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at Charlotte, who was in the kitchen with Isa and Milagros.

“We still need to figure out how to get out of here,” I said.

He put his hands on his head. “I’ve been thinking that same thing myself.”

“Do you think the ferry’s running yet?”

“Unlikely. But the sky’s clear, so maybe we can get on the first flight out.”

“Assuming there are flights heading out,” I said.

“Right. Do you think Charlotte’s medicine will be okay for another day or so?” he asked.

“I don’t know, and I’m super nervous about that,” I admitted. “The pharmacies aren’t open, so it’s not like we can get more. And even if we did, who’s to say it would be in better shape than what we have here?”

“The pharmacies might actually have functioning generators, though. I’ll go for a drive, see if anything is open or if I can find out anything more about flying out of here.”

I didn’t even tell him to be careful. His leaving was a risk I was willing to take if it meant keeping Charlotte healthy. “Okay. Thank you,” I said quietly.

“Hey.” His forehead was etched with all the worry he’d been working hard to keep out of his voice. “We’re going to get through this.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and asked myself: What would Charlotte Ross do? Then I opened my eyes again, and though I couldn’t quite force my lips into a smile, I made sure my tone matched Shiloh’s. “I know we are,” I said.

After Shiloh headed out, Milagros and I sat on the front