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12 June 2019 - 06:48

in the mo[u]rning

Jack made his best effort to wave happily to Mom as she drove away, but instead, it came across as meek. HeadMusic this morning has been a playlist of Semler, When I Go, and Before We're Dead. Grace's music is so hauntingly beautiful. *sigh*

As soon as Mackers was out of sight, Ninja opened up Santo's back passenger door, looking for chemical relief. His original plan (and Yang's) was to chug down the Diet Dr. B in our work cooler. Tastes like the regular thing, but it's diet, so we can cheat the diabetes. However, we remembered the CHSP meeting we have this morning, and we decided we'll likely need it after that instead. So we only took a sip and saved the rest. Underwhelming, to say the least. Then my brothers remembered the Strawberry Margarita bottle in the trunk. "Fuck it, we's need a drink," Ninja muttered, even though I asked him not to. The meeting, dude!

I didn't protest too strongly, though, and neither did Sal. Ninja is strong, physically stronger than either Sal or me, but if we work together, we can overpower him sometimes. Sometimes. And it's a struggle for sure. Not pleasant for anyone. And other than my advice against it, and Sal suggesting that he could draw out our angst instead, we let our brother at it. He grabbed a fruit Jello cup from our cooler, bit out some of the tangerine chunks, then filled the gaps with liquor. He took a swig of the bottle for good measure. That was our breakfast, I suppose.

My phone bings as I type this, and I see I've received a text message from my nephew. He said that his phone and his sister's were taken away, which is why they didn't reply to my messages or answer my mom's calls yesterday. "Roeesela's a bitch," drawls Ninja, sitting back against the wall of the Closet. Alcohol seems to have relaxed his hunched shoulders, but his hands are still balled into fists in his lap. Yang is sitting next to him, quiet, arms draped over his knees, leaning forward into his thighs. His head is resting against his forearms, so we can't see his face behind that curtain of thick black hair. He's breathing deep and steady, but I know him well enough to see it is a forced posture of relaxation, and his deep breaths are bordering on bellows. We send out a last text message to our nephew, and the replies stop. "Bitch," Ninja mutters again.

Other than my two brothers, Sal and Piojo sit with me in the dimness of the Closet. We're all still, waiting. Sal is a bit buzzed from the alcohol, and wants to nap, but we have that meeting; I'm not going to allow us to sleep.

I've been debating on whether or not to drive over to my sister's house and force a confrontation, or maybe wait until she's gone to work and wait for Kokoro-bo to get dropped off by the bus so we can see him and hold him for awhile. Have him record an "I love you" message for my mom. My brothers are mostly all for it, but BB holds us back, begs me not to put him in that strenuous a situation. "Don't make him lie," she's told me. "Pobrecito, you'll stress him out! We shouldn't make him choose between which family members to trust. He'll be wracked with guilt!" Yeah, and not to mention... I don't think Lalo's a good liar. Can't keep a secret worth a damn, I don't think. Anyhow, we need to get ready for the meeting now. I close my eyes briefly with a sigh. A nap actually sounds amazing right now.

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