Neffi
I sat in the backseat of Jamie’s car staring at the sea of people in their Sunday best walking towards the gate of my childhood home. The moment they reached the front, my cousins would hand them each a pen and piece of paper that they would then tape to a balloon before walking inside the gate and standing in the lawn. “You good?” Jamie asked.
I turned my attention towards him. He was looking at me through the rearview mirror with eyes full of concern.
“Of course she’s not good. Neffi, if you want we can go somewhere else. Maybe get a drink on your cousin,” Jamie’s girlfriend Marisol said. She was a beautiful 21-year-old spunky Latina who always said how she felt. She graduated with Jamie and had gone away to college, only coming back to visit during the summer and winter holida
