Page 51 of The Golden Boy’s Guide to Bipolar

Despite the hours-long nap I took yesterday, I guess I was emotionally exhausted enough to sleep through the entire night

and half the day. When I eventually crawl out of bed and into the living room, I realize it’s already almost time to start

getting dinner ready.

I know no one expects me to keep up with the Sunday cooking promise I made months ago, especially not right now, but I don’t

know. It feels like a good gesture to help Yami and my mom with dinner. Like if I can do this one thing, even if it’s just

for today, even if it’s not how I originally planned, maybe that means things can get better.

I head to the kitchen, where Yami’s already digging in the fridge and my mom’s filling a pot with water to boil.

“Need some help?” I ask, and they both turn around like I jump scared them.

I expect them to keep babying me and insist I rest up instead, but Mami smiles and gestures toward the vegetables on the chopping

board. “I’d love that.”

With the three of us working together, we end up spending more time just talking than we do cooking. Not about anything important, but it still feels good. I don’t remember the last time I laughed about nothing.

Before long, there’s a knock on the door before the lock turns, and Dona Violeta, Abuela, and Moni all come in. I almost go

in for a hug with Moni before I remember she doesn’t do those. Usually I’m not a huge hugger for no reason either, but I kind

of thought maybe she wouldn’t be coming back from visiting her dad this time. It’s been a really long punishment.

After we all say hi, Mami shoos me, Yami, and Moni away to the living room so she can talk with Abuela and Dona Violeta. I

guess we’re off dinner duty for now. Instead of following us to the living room, though, Yami goes to the bathroom. I know

she and Moni aren’t exactly close anymore, but I can’t tell if she’s purposely avoiding her or not.

“So, you still not going back to L.A.?” I ask when we’re out of earshot of everyone else.

“It’s okay, I like it here way better,” Moni says as she plops down on the couch. “My dad thought I’d cave by now and go to

the school he wants, but that’s not gonna happen.”

“That sucks,” I say. I can’t help but feel bad that I was able to start repairing things with my mom, but Moni is still going

through the same shit. She knows better than anyone else how I felt being the family disappointment. Somehow, though, Moni

never seems to feel guilty or bothered in the least by what her dad thinks of her. “You okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” she asks. “I did think about what you and Abuela said about the dispensary. I don’t want to sabotage my business before it even starts, so I decided to put a pause on things. For now.”

“It’ll be okay,” I say, trying to make her feel better, because Moni actually seems pretty bummed. Honestly, I’m surprised;

Moni’s not usually one to change her mind about something, so it feels like a big deal.

“Don’t worry about me. Abuela said we could find another way to fund it together,” Moni says with a smile. “And I’m an entrepreneur.

I’ll definitely figure it out. At least Abuela doesn’t act like I’m a failure for wanting to do anything besides play the

violin for the rest of my life. But, um, you’re the one who went there, so... are you okay?”

Dammit. I did go there first, I guess... I’m done lying about it, but I also don’t really know how to respond. I decide

to answer with another question. “Don’t you feel guilty? Everyone expects us to be the next big thing, but we’re just always

getting in trouble.”

She looks at me like I’m speaking gibberish. “Why would I feel guilty about other people being wrong? Sounds like a them problem to me.”

I laugh. Her answer reminds me of the email Abuela sent me a while back about us being fig trees trying to make grapes. Maybe

they’re both right. If I didn’t worry about what anyone expected out of me, would I still feel like a disappointment? I definitely

still did a lot of shitty things, but maybe I wouldn’t have been so set on acting that way if I wasn’t trying to prove something.

Before we get too into it, Yami comes out from the bathroom. She stands there awkwardly for a second before saying, “Um, hey,

Moni.”

“Hey, Yami.”

I don’t know why they’re being weird, but it doesn’t last long since Abuela comes calling us over to the table just then.

Besides Yami and Moni’s awkwardness, it’s nice to be hanging out and eating dinner with everyone. I’ve aired out all my shit,

and they’re all still here.

Yami stays quiet most of dinner, and I almost think I’m the only one who notices until Moni calls it out.

“So, Yami, do you have a problem with me or something?” The words feel confrontational, but her tone isn’t. Knowing Moni,

she’s just genuinely curious.

If this happened another time, Yami might have gotten defensive and denied it, but maybe our group apology intervention changed

things.

“I don’t have a problem with you. I just...” She trails off. “I just kind of feel like I got replaced, you know? You and Cesar got so close lately, and I

didn’t get to hang out with either of you. Like, me and Cesar are good now, but I feel like everyone here knows you except

for me.”

Dona Violeta, my mom, and my abuela exchange a quick telepathic message I can’t decipher before they all stand up at the same

time.

“I’ll help your mami with cleanup, all right?” Dona Violeta says, and Abuela’s adding on almost immediately after. “Cesar,

mijo, what do you say we go for a ride?” she asks, not bothering with subtlety. “I think your prima and your sister could

use some quality time.”

Moni looks at Yami expectantly, like she’s afraid of what her reaction might be. Yami just smiles. It’s a nervous smile, but she doesn’t seem upset.

“That sounds like a good idea, actually,” Yami says.

“Really?” Moni asks, lighting up a bit.

“Yeah. I miss you,” Yami admits.

“I miss you too,” Moni says before my mom practically shoves them into the living room so they can have some semblance of

privacy.

Normally I’d be suspicious of an offer to go for a ride alone right after getting out of the hospital. It just screams “Let’s

have an emotional heart-to-heart!” But this time it’s not about me. Moni and Yami should really talk. Besides, maybe a heart-to-heart

with my grandma isn’t the worst thing in the world.

“Okay, let’s go,” I say as I hop up from the table and follow my abuela to the door, leaving Yami and Moni to talk it out.

When we get in the car, I’m expecting Abuela to start with some small talk like people usually do before they get into what

they really want to say, but she doesn’t.

“I’m sure you have questions,” she says instead.

“Huh?” Not exactly the question she was probably expecting, but I have no idea what she’s talking about, so I got nothing.

“Violeta told me you saw us last night.” She says it like I caught them doing something way more scandalous than braiding

hair. I didn’t even realize Dona Violeta knew I was watching, but I guess there’s no use lying if they both know I saw them.

“Dona Violeta was your first love, wasn’t she? The one you told me and Moni about?”

Abuela just nods.

“Does anyone else know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “Not yet, at least. I wanted to tell you first, but you beat me to the punch.” She laughs.

“Why me?” That makes no sense. Why would she want to tell me, of all people?

“Because I want you to learn from my mistakes, mijo.”

“What are you talking about?” My face gets hotter. Does she know about Jamal? Who would have told her? And why ?

“I saw the way you and that boy looked at each other at the hospital,” she says with a smile. “I know that look. I’ve lived

the life you’re trying to make for yourself. It’s heartbreaking to see you following in my footsteps without even knowing

it.”

I want to ask what made her choose my grandpa over Dona Violeta, but I feel like I already know the answer. Abuela’s just

as religious as I am, if not more. It’s not why she made the choice she did that confuses me, but why she’d choose differently

now.

“What changed?” I end up asking.

“I used to fear God more than anything, but I’ve changed.” She pauses for a moment as the car slows at a stoplight. “I use

the Bible to understand things better, but the original version was written by men doing their best interpretation of the

word of God. Never mind that the current version has been translated and edited into something completely different.”

It takes me a second to let that sink in. I guess I knew it was true, but I never really considered what that meant. “So how

do you know which parts to live by and what some random guy forever ago decided to change?”

“Nothing is set in stone, but I will take any opportunity to learn more about the context behind the scriptures I read. I have to be open to being wrong and diving into the meaning. But I think the people who hate us read the Bible differently than I do. They cherry-pick the verses that confirm their worldview and shut their eyes to everything else. But I think those people believe in a different God than I do.”

For some reason, hearing her say that makes me want to cry. Maybe I’m just so off emotionally from all the ups and downs lately,

but it seems like everything I lived by (and almost died by) is just falling apart right in front of me. What if I was wrong

about all of it? I’m scared of what the answer might be, but I already promised I’d voice my fears instead of letting them

build.

“What if they’re right, though?”

With one hand on the wheel, she reaches the other over to squeeze my shoulder. “No one can know for sure until they die, right?

But if I can be sure about one thing now , it’s that I still love my Violeta.” Her voice softens at Dona Violeta’s name, and she smiles. “If I’m right, then I’ll die

and spend an eternity with my loved ones in heaven. But if I’m wrong, then I won’t have the afterlife to spend with my Violeta.