“Fine. Look, you don’t have to get hostile. I’m leaving.”

“Then you must have read my mind.” Jenny replied, staring her maliciously in the eye. “Good-bye, Andrea.”

And the door slammed shut in her face.

“OK, so, were you being cruel, or are you actually gonna fuck me?” Shane asked, pushing Carmen down onto her bed and positioning herself so she was hovering over her, just barely not touching her.

“Why do you wear this?” Carmen mused, grabbing the cross that was hanging from Shane’s neck, and fingering it gently.

“I don’t know. Looks cool, I guess.” Shane shrugged.

“Is that really why?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m not Christian. Not really. We all… At the Church shelter I used to live at… They gave us each one. I guess I just never really got rid of it.”

“Mercedes wears one, too. From her mom. But then she has a tattoo of a cross dripping blood on her arm. It makes no sense. It’s completely contradictory.”

“Hmm.”

“I love you.”

Shane stared at her, her eyes were raw, and full of emotion. She looked like she might cry again.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Carmen choked out before breaking out into sobs again.

Shane pulled her close, back up to the top of the bed and pulled the covers over her and let her cry into her shoulder again, this time comfortably cuddled on the bed. And they stayed that way for a long time, no sound except for Carmen’s quiet sobbing and the occasional sound from Jenny, who was now in the studio. The sobs slowly quieted and halted, and Shane knew she had fallen asleep.

“I love you, too.”

Shane woke up to see Carmen running her hands over a small wooden cross with a golden Jesus attached to it. She propped herself up on one elbow and watched the Latina who was so engrossed in her thoughts she didn’t notice Shane until she brushed some hair out of her face. Shane didn’t even have to ask the question, she already knew the answer, but also knew Carmen should tell it. It would help.

“It’s from my mom… It was on Dad’s casket before they put him in the ground. She told me ‘Always hold it close, mija, and the memory of your father will live on and guide you through the hard times. And always remember, he’s watching you and he loves you.’ He does, Shane. Every time I hold this, I feel him. I never met him, but he’s a part of me. He always will be. And I denounced him. I’m a horrible fuck up of a daughter!” She buried her face in her hands and rocked back and forth, sick of the tears, so fucking sick of the tears, but unable to do anything but cry.