| Twenty-Two || His Darkness and Her Light |

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"Papa, we need to talk," I said to my father as he sat on the couch watching soccer

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"Papa, we need to talk," I said to my father as he sat on the couch watching soccer.

        He waved me off. "Not now, Iago."

        "No." I moved closer. "We need to talk now. This can't keep happening."

        Him barging in on me and Estella and the way he acted was the last straw. He couldn't keep doing this and getting away with it. I refused to allow him to ruin my life and make me as miserable as him and my mother.

        My father squinted his eyes. "What exactly is happening?"

        "Mama is depressed."

        My father jerked his head back. "Qué?"

        "Mama is depressed," I said. "All she does is sleep, work, eat, watch telenovelas and drink. She doesn't see people anymore. She doesn't cook, clean or do anything around the house. She barely talks to us. I've walked in on her crying on multiple occasions. It's like she's a zombie."

        He shrugged. "Everyone gets depressed."

        "Not everyone is consistently depressed for months," I said. "That's when it becomes an illness."

        "Okay," he said. "What do you want me to do about it? She's depressed. Great. What am I supposed to do?"

        "She has a drinking problem," I pointed out. "And so do you."

        My father chuckled. "Iago, what is this?"

        "I can't take this anymore, Papa," I said. "I hate being home. All you guys do is drink, get wasted and ignore me. I have to do all the cooking and cleaning around here."

        "Might as well do something around here, Iago." My father stood up and walked over to me. "At least your mother and I work. What do you do? Other than dancing for free at your fancy school. You should be getting a job and helping us out around here, but we let you do your extracurriculars instead so you can feel like one of them. But you're not. You live above our means."

        "You're turning this on me."

        This was about him and my mother. Not me.

        "You do," he said. He touched my Beats headphones. "Look at these fancy headphones."

        "Brice gave them to me."

        He bought me two Beats for my last birthday.

        "We allow you to be in your hip-hop company," he said, "spending money we don't have. You shouldn't even have your own car if we wanted to cut down on costs, but we allow you to."

        "I need a car," I said. "The bus doesn't pick me up."

        "You don't need anything," he retorted. "You just want because everyone else has."

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