Far from the Tree: List 5: Joaquin (7) – Grace (10)

He thought it was ironic that everyone was trying so hard to leave home, when all he wanted to do was stay in one.

He also knew that there were services that he could use until he was twenty-one: rent and food subsidies, possible scholarships for school, job assistance.

Joaquin didn’t know that there was a word to express that feeling. It wasn’t happiness, or relief, or bewilderment. It wasn’t confusion, either, or pity for them being stupid enough to trust him.

Then she turned back to Joaquin. “Honey, come in, come in, it’s fine. You’re fine.” She beckoned him in the door.

Joaquin had heard some epic tirades about that cat in his two years in their home.

The Melissa Taylor research was even more dismal. Even with her parents’ help, there wasn’t much.

Maya just preened a little as Grace’s phone buzzed again. “Ooh, is it him? Is it him? What’s his name?”
“None of your business.”

“Well, that’s unorthodox,” Maya said, “but hey, I don’t judge. Let me see!"

“I’ll maim you.”
“I can live with that.” Maya, a little out of breath, started to read the message.

Grace closed her eyes briefly against the stab of pain, and Joaquin reached over and put his hand on her arm as Maya nuzzled her chin against her shoulder.

The three of them leaned in close, heads together, sifting through the papers.

She wished she had never seen her sister look so vulnerable.

She had absolutely zero intentions of going out to her mom’s rehab center, not when she had possibly life-altering plans with Grace and Joaquin.

“Um, why do you even knock if you’re just going to barge in anyhow?” Maya said, folding another shirt from her clean laundry pile. “How do you know I’m not dancing around naked in here?”
“You’re not, so it’s a moot point.”

“Fine,” she said, then flounced out of the room.

Maya was pretty sure if the circumstances weren’t so dire, they would have looked like they were doing a comedy routine.

“Just apologize for whatever you did and get back together, okay? You’ve been moping around for weeks, and so has she.”

She sounded disaffected, cool, all blues and violets, the opposite of the hot ember glow that burned inside Maya.

She sounded disaffected, cool, all blues and violets, the opposite of the hot ember glow that burned inside Maya.

But Joaquin had played long enough to know that for every level he managed to pass, for each thread of hope that Mark and Linda gave him, there was just something bigger, even more menacing, waiting for him at the end.

“Nope,” Joaquin said, and they hadn’t answered, which made him even more nervous, out of control, teetering on the edge, bracing for a fall.

“Nope,” Joaquin said, and they hadn’t answered, which made him even more nervous, out of control, teetering on the edge, bracing for a fall.

He started to put his hand on Joaquin’s arm, and Joaquin, thinking that this was it, instinctively flinched away.

He started to put his hand on Joaquin’s arm, and Joaquin, thinking that this was it, instinctively flinched away.

“We had a fight. I ruined it. I pretty much obliterated it. Burned it to the ground.” Joaquin was chuckling to himself, but Grace thought it sounded more like a sob. “They’re not going to let me back in.”

She wondered if she and Maya and Joaquin were on the same ridiculous quest as Quixote, racing toward something that was different from how they imagined it would be, destined for disappointment, for humiliation, for failure.

Joaquin parked across the street and they sat there in silence, the three of them breathing in unison, looking at the house.

“You knock, Grace,” Maya whispered. Joaquin was standing behind them, almost like protection, and Grace steadied herself and reached out to the tarnished brass knocker shaped like a lion. It seemed almost to snarl at them, like they were intruders.

“You knock, Grace,” Maya whispered. Joaquin was standing behind them, almost like protection, and Grace steadied herself and reached out to the tarnished brass knocker shaped like a lion. It seemed almost to snarl at them, like they were intruders.
Grace hoped that wasn’t a bad omen.

Grace hoped that wasn’t a bad omen.

Melissa suddenly stopped and smiled sheepishly.

“Your grandfather, our dad, he disowned her when she got pregnant with you, Joaquin. She was seventeen, and our parents were just beside themselves. They kicked her out. Our dad, I think it just broke his heart. He burned all of the pictures of her.”

Joaquin asked, and Maya knew him well enough by now to hear the quaver there.

Jessica stood up, then reached up to cradle each of their faces in her hands. She lingered on Joaquin for the longest.

She hurried out of the room, leaving the three of them tearstained and dazed.

Joaquin felt something crack open in his chest, and at the same time, another fissure started to seal itself back up.

“So...when are you coming home?” Maya asks, hanging on tight to her mom’s hand, like she could levitate and float away.

In the corner, Joaquin can see Maya and Claire chattering away, their heads together, while Lauren and her dad peruse the barbecue buffet that Linda’s set out.

Grace is over by the drinks table, her parents talking to their other next-door neighbors, her hand entwined with Rafe’s as he stands by her side.

Ana’s standing under the tree, chatting with her husband as well as Gus from the arts center, and Joaquin tries to sneak past them in order to grab more drinks, but they manage to wrangle him into a conversation about college and his birthday and the white-water rafting trip that Mark and Linda took him on last month.