“Misty…?” I said quietly as I approached her, like I was trying not to startle a lost animal.

  “Hey, V,” she responded with a forced smile, “You okay?”

  “No… but thanks for asking,” I told her honestly as I got down on one knee, “What about you? Almost didn’t recognize you with the new hair. Looks pretty.”

  “It’s my natural color, actually…” she played with the bushy, black strands, “Heh, not surprised that you like it. You always change up your hair just about every time I've seen you."

  I laughed at her observation - honestly it's true. I can never keep just one hairstyle like some people. "Heh, guilty… So what're you doing out here, anyway?"

  "Eh… I’ve been sitting at this curb since I was 10 years old… I’m 26 now. I’m so used to seeing him… I keep seeing people walking by. I look over just to make sure… you know… like, maybe he's coming back, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know…”

  “Gonk move, really,” she frowned.

  “Not gonk at all. Just… human,” I gently placed Shinden beside the garage and took a seat, not really knowing what to say. “He, uh… thought about you. Even in the end…”

  “We knew each other half our lives, you know… dated for a while, too. But didn’t actually get together until last year.”

  “What? Jackie spoke about you two like a couple going way back.”

  “Heh… yeah, we always teased the idea, but… well, it wasn’t until last summer that he finally… actually loved me… Best damn year of my life.”

  I was genuinely surprised. He'd been seeing her for years… Back when we first met, he wasn't exactly the, uh, committing type. “Well, for what it’s worth, he always told me how much you meant to him.”

  “Oh? Bet he didn’t use those exact words, though.”

  “Heh, well, maybe,” I chuckled, “But he had his own love language.”

  “You know, V… can I be serious for a minute?”

  “Of course, Misty.”

  “You knew Jackie like very few people did… all they ever saw was a meathead, a goofball with a rough-hewn face and an edge… but you saw the real human being.”

  “Yeah… he was my brother…”

  “You were more than that to him, I think…” she glanced at the pavement beneath her feet, “Let me tell you a story… Jackie told me one time that one of the best moments of his life was when he saw you standing on top of this old garage… heh, I don’t know why I’m telling you this…”

  “Go on…”

  “This was years ago… he said that he tried to get some sleep but couldn’t. Got up in the middle of the night and walked out to get some fresh air. And he saw you standing on top of an old garage… dancing. Just dancing.”

  “Danc– wait… wow, that’s like a decade ago…” I thought back.

  “He said to me something I’d never forget… said that he’d never met anyone with such beautifully introspective actions.”

  “Misty…”

  “He told me you beat yourself up a lot for not being able to talk much… But he knew. And whatever secrets you’re hiding, he knows it all now.”

  “I…” I struggled to even find enough breath to produce words, “Thank you, Misty…”

  “Hey, it’s my job, right?…” she smiled before letting out a long sigh, “I miss him, too…”

  “Yeah…”

  “Thanks… for joining me…” she glanced back behind her, “There’s a whole chunk of his story back there, waiting for you…”

  “You go inside?”

  “No… I don’t have the key.”

  “What? Why not, didn’t Jackie give you a set of keys?”

  “He tried to, but… I wanted him to have a space just for himself, you know? After you moved out, it just… didn’t feel right to be in there, I guess…”

  “Well,” I stood up, “I need some help finding something for the ofrenda… want to join me? Maybe find something of your own as well?”

  “I wanted to return his tarot cards but… But I’m not going.”

  “What?!”

  “It’s not me… I’m just… not on good terms with Mama Welles. She wouldn’t want me touching any of his things, disturbing his memory… that much I know.”

  “Nonsense, you were more special to Jackie than anyone he’d ever fallen for, trust me,” I smiled lightly at her. There’s no way she would be staying outside, I’d hear none of that nonsense… I got my sword and gently lifted her to her feet. “Come on. It’s what he would’ve wanted.”

  The garage door opened with a dense, weighty action, one that’s been well-worn over many years. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in here… not since I started working the desk job. At the time, I guess I thought it was unbecoming of someone of my social standing… I don’t really know what I was thinking, being honest with myself… Better late than never, I guess.

  This whole place was so unmistakeably Jackie. It still looks like Jackie, smells like Jackie… that musky sweat combined with his love of spicy food… some unopened beers in his private reserve leaking a bit of fumes and adding to it all. The warm yet functional decorum punctuated by graffiti tags covering the walls, yet not a single cobweb in sight. It's as if he meticulously took care of it just enough to be presentable, not unlike the man himself. He always took pride in his appearance, though he wanted to give others the impression that it was so effortless… This place, it was like an unspoken dialogue with him, one that I wished I could've had… It’s just… it’s too much…

  The room was dominated with all sorts of cheesy magazine posters and advertisements, many of which were written over with his little graffiti tags. I remember him trying to practice different styles, wanted to get his own handle and do some proper art around the place.

  Despite not looking like much of an artist, the guy was actually really into all things beautiful like that. Beautiful in his own way, anyway… I doubt many other people would find his… “work…” particularly appealing. But that’s what I loved about him… he was so perfectly weird and imperfect. And what's even more remarkable to me is how many of the posters were in Japanese… I guess I engendered a love of that side of the world in him, after all.

  Course, none of that precluded his love of exercise. Or perhaps it was very much the same thing – he did see his body as a work of art. And other people’s bodies, for that matter – especially women’s. We used to casually hit on each other a lot back in the day, still kind of did, right up to the end. He always made fun of me for having to wear chest binders in combat to keep everything from flopping around, and I always made fun of him for seriously looking at a Mr. Stud once… “But it’s ribbed,” he said. Good times…

  Yeah, why were so many of his items in Japanese, anyway? I remember giving him a few lessons, but I didn't think they stuck… he always just spoke his native Spanish to me…

  I feel like a lot of people would've assumed we were dating, considering how close we were. But we never once considered ever hooking up or anything, much less getting together. I guess our relationship just went a bit beyond that. Not to detract from Misty and him, of course… it was just… different. He was my brother, and that’s where it always stayed… Fuck, I cannot get over these posters… It's either straight Latinx or Japanese. Hell, I wouldn't have been surprised to find a Japanese - Spanish dictionary tucked away somewhere so he could read it. Why did he never tell me he wanted to learn Japanese… Maybe he just wanted to surprise me… Gods, what have I done…

  "Hey, you okay?" Misty asked me as she came over with a worried look painted on her face, "You need some air?"

  "I-I'm fine," I mumbled before finally breaking eye contact with the posters and heading to another corner of the room. “Huh… I don’t remember this…” Why's there just a basketball loose on the ground? “Signed by Dante Gonzalez… Never heard of him.”

  “Oh, that?” Misty chimed in, “Yeah, Dante Gonzales was a Valentino as well, like Jackie was… Gonzales was one of the few who escaped the gang.”

  “Hm. And here I thought Jackie was unique in that he left while staying on good terms with them.”

  “No, no, there were others – he just didn’t talk about them much,” No kidding… I suppose we all have our secrets… “He was also from Heywood, actually. Dante’s captain of the NC Blackouts now… Guess they both wanted more outta life.”

  Yeah…

  And, of course, who can forget Jackie’s Arch… Beautiful motorcycle… Hang on a minute.

  “Heh…” I knelt down to take a closer look, “Looks like he swapped out that exhaust pipe after all…”

  “What?” Misty asked from across the room.

  “I, uh…” I pursed my dry lips a bit, “I advised him to do it. Right before the All Foods job. Hah, guy never had much of a sense of practicality. I swear, when he pulled away after that was all over, you could hear this horse roaring from five blocks down. Told him that something that conspicuous had no place on the job… But I did it as sort of a joke. I didn’t think he’d actually take my advice…” I knelt down and inspected the machine closer, admiring his handiwork, “He sure did love poking around engines, didn’t he…”

  “He used to talk about you and your Skyline all the time,” Misty sighed and came up to me, “I found it really endearing and sweet at the time. But reflecting on it now… Maybe he just wanted to earn your approval.”

  “Nonsense… he more than earned that.”

  “Not like that… maybe he just wanted something in common, something to share with you?” she thought out-loud, kneeling down next to me and having a closer look at his handiwork, “You did introduce him to fixing up cars, after all.”

  “I did?”

  “Sure, you did,” she laughed, “I’m surprised you didn’t know that, actually.”

  “No, I, uh… I thought he always loved cars.”

  “Oh, he always loved cars, but he couldn’t fix ‘em to save his life,” she smiled before getting back up and leaning against the table beside me, “You gave him that.”

  I could easily picture myself back in that garage, us wearing nothing but rags, my hair bleached from the sun. And Jackie with his hand on his forehead wondering where it all went wrong. "Heh, it took us months to fix up that fucking car… It was so hot out there that we ended up having to work nights, just constantly running back and forth doing fuel runs to keep the shop's generator running. And all the rubber was rotted away, so we ended up having to make radiator and fuel hoses out of whatever tubing we could find… it, uh, ended fairly predictably."

  "Sounds like you had a wonderful time, though," she looked at me with her big, soulful green eyes, "Honestly I wish Jackie and I had more memories like that… or all three of us together…"

  “I guess it just never occurred to me that I had that kind of impact… Jackie… I…” I voiced my mind, “I had no idea…” That motorcycle was, at once, the most brash and beautiful machine I think I’d ever laid eyes on. I hope it goes to a loving home… I can't keep looking at it. It's too painful…

  "It'll be okay," Misty tried to reassure me.

  "Thanks… same with you," I nodded in return, getting up and leaving the motorcycle to rest, awaiting its owner's return with a full tank and an eager ignition. His workbench was similarly tidy, except for one particular article that seemed out-of-place… a book conspicuously front-and-center.

  “Ernest Hemingway… ‘For Whom the Bell Tolls…’ Didn’t think I’d find this book in his man-cave…” I thought to myself as I picked up the ratty old paperback – fuck me, it was a first-edition cover, too, circa 1940. That’s incredible…

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “Jack read it a dozen times – always before a big job.”

  “Really?” I stood there surprised, “I’d never heard of this practice…”

  “Yeah,” Misty nodded, “He said the guy who wrote it was tougher than Morgan Blackhand.”

  “He's not wrong… You ever read the book?”

  “No, never got the chance.”

  “You should… it speaks a lot to the fighting spirit of Hispanic people.”

  “Heh, I’ll bear that in mind,” she smiled at me.

  That was it. Right there. My offering. I delicately picked it up, the book looking like it was about to fall apart into a million pieces. “No more secrets, Jackie…” I muttered to myself, “Thank you for everything.”

  Now for Misty’s offering… Let’s try his bedroom. I bet she’ll find something in there. I collected the key lying on his desk - the same one after all these years, heh… The door gently opened with a powered hiss and we slowly crept in, as if I didn’t want to disturb him in case he was sleeping…

  Instead, we were greeted by a sight neither of us anticipated within our wildest dreams… a mandala. A gorgeous, shitty, unfinished mandala…

  “Oh… Jackie…” Misty cupped her face with both hands, tears immediately streaming away as her voice quaked and trembled.

  “That’s a mandala…” I muttered out-loud… “But… I didn't know he was into this…”

  “Yeah… neither did I…” she sobbed, sitting down on the couch. Its broken-in springs creaked under her as she got comfortable. “It’s a… long story…”

  I sat down on the floor in front of her as she quietly wept to herself, respectfully looking away for a few seconds until I was sure she would allow me to see her. “Are… Are you alright?”

  “V, I am… I am so much better than alright.” Misty shook her head, wiping the genuine smile from her face as she took a long stare at it once again. “I… uh… I told Jackie he should sweep all the dark energy outta this place… said a sand mandala’d do the trick… He told me that outta sand, he’d build a castle… a home… the Welles family stronghold… bar, or… uh, somethin’...”

  “I guess you made a bigger impression than you thought…” I repeated the words she spoke to me earlier.

  “Heh, I guess we both did, huh, V…” she mumbled under her breath.

  I took another look at the mandala… something was… off about it. Not just that it wasn’t finished. It looked a little janky… clearly his first time.

  “I’m guessing he learned this himself?” I tried to voice it in as nice a way as possible.

  “Heh,” she laughed, “It’s hideous… But it’s also the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

  “Me, too…” I sighed deeply, wiping away a single tear forming on my face as I got up and immediately noticed a picture hanging up on the wall. “Huh… I never actually seen this one, either…” Jackie looked to be no more than ten or eleven years old. I hardly recognized him, if it wasn't for our distinctive mother sitting beside him. And, towering over them both, rested a man whose golden fist was the size of the scrawny kid's face. Man, I never thought I'd ever see Jackie as 'scrawny,' yet he really was back then… How times have changed…

  “Mm, Jackie’s father. The belt on the table belonged to him, too… Used to beat Jackie and his mom with it when he was growing up.”

  “Not exactly inspiring of fond memories,” I frowned, “No wonder he never spoke much about him… Why keep the belt, though?”

  “In case his father ever came back.” I can relate… Poor Jackie…

  I took a seat at his computer desk, processing what it was probably like for him growing up… No wonder why he bulked up so much. My eyes continued wandering around the room… aquarium, heh, yeah, I remember that. He used to keep a tiger shark in that bitch… Wait, on the nightstand, is that tequila? No… that’s… that’s an old bottle. Really old.

  “Jackie’s favorite tequila, one of the first bottles ever made by Jésus de Abajo. Only a hundred or so left in the world,” Misty said aloud, noticing me eyeballing the bottle.

  “Really?! How the Hell did Jackie get this?”

  “Said he met an old abuela, claimed de Abajo stole her recipe… Heh, he’s probably the poorest person on Earth to own one of these.”

  “Richest of heart, though,” I smiled, carefully picking up and inspecting the bottle before returning it to its rightful place. Damn, Centzon Totochtin, first release, aged 3 years in oak… I bet that tastes marvelous…

  “Did you find anything?” I asked her, “To offer.”

  “No, V, I… I think I have everything I need, right here,” she smiled in return, eyeing the mandala, “Let’s go.”

  “Alright,” I opened the garage door, letting in the cool, diffuse light into the room, “You sure?”

  “Yeah, I don’t… I don’t think I should even come, to tell you the truth.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “Like I said, just… I don’t think Mama Welles would want me there, that’s all.”

  “Come on, don’t be silly, Misty… Why, what’s wrong? Something between you two, or…?”

  “Let’s just say she doesn’t see some esoteric witch as daughter-in-law material…” she sighed in contempt, “You know, that I’m ‘just some Watsonite.’ That I'm not the typical Catholic Latina she expected him to bring home. That my name wasn't Camila.”

  I stood back a little, surprised that Misty even remembered that name. “Who, Jackie’s ex-output?”

  “Yeah… Camila was her favorite.” I guess that rumor about Latina mothers holding ridiculous grudges holds some basis in reality after all.

  “Misty, that’s ancient history… Camila hasn't been around since the war.”

  “I know, but…”

  I stopped her by placing my hand on her shoulder, gently gripping her. I knew she liked physical contact, even if she never flat-out admitted it. Jackie said as much, something about 'sharing energy' or whatnot. “Nah, Misty, don’t be ridiculous. You’ve got every much of a right to be there as me.”

  “I’d rather not get in Mama Welles’ way… it’s for family.”

  “Misty, stop… I’ll deal with Mamá if it comes to that. But last time I looked, I didn’t see anyone named Camila sitting outside his garage. Come on, I’ll walk with you.”

  “I guess you’re right…” she finally relented, “Thanks, V.”

  “Sure.” I took a few steps back and let her thoughts simmer a little bit, building up the courage herself to go and confront her fears.

  We both headed out, walking side-by-side back towards El Coyote Cojo. The setting sun cast the alley in deep shadow, forming Misty's hair into a thick, black veil covering her head.

  “Say, Misty…” I tried to make some conversation to help lighten it up a little, “You ever think about leaving Night City?”

  “Oh, sure… plenty of times. Jackie had Mexico. Me, I had Nepal.”

  “Nepal?”

  “Mhm. Packed my bags and hopped on a plane. Thought I’d stay there.” She slowed down a bit to savor the chat, a welcome break from the heaviness of the garage.

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Tsk,” she grumbled, “Realized after a week that I couldn’t live without the constant droning sounds of traffic, neighbors hollering in the night…”

  “City girl, huh?”

  “Eeyup.”

  “That’s… honestly really cute,” I smiled, “Here, would you like to go in first, or should I?”

  “Nah, it’s okay, I got this,” she smiled before heading in on her own, “Thanks, though.”

  –

  The altar Mamá laid out was gorgeous, a fitting tribute to a wonderful man… I looked around and saw the who’s who of Valentinos in the audience. Even our old fixer, Sebastian “Padre” Ibarra. Gustavo Orta, Marlon and Isabella Fuscino, Juan Abasto… All people we’ve either worked with in the past, along with many more faces I didn’t recognize. I was surprised at the turnout, considering the short notice Mamá gave everybody… It was truly humbling to see so many faces show up to appreciate Jackie.

  “Mija… Welcome back. You look beautiful,” Mamá smiled at me and returned to her place beside Jackie's altar, “We’re just about to start. Everyone, you're welcome here, seeing you all brings my heart such joy. To know how loved Jacquito was… it is truly a blessing.”

  Mamá motioned me over to the seat closest to Jackie, a spot she apparently reserved just for me. I could hardly believe her kindness tonight.

  “Hey, V,” Viktor said from my right as he took a seat next to me. I courteously moved over to give him some space, though he shook his head and said, "It's okay," in return.

  “Thanks for coming,” I whispered to him as proceedings went underway… Mamá bent over and sobbed on the table, laying her heart bare before all of us. I’d never seen her this broken… She had lost so many relatives to gang violence, overdose, suicide… yet this was the first time I saw her like this. I couldn’t believe she found the strength to tell me 'I’m sorry' when I first came in here…

  Her body laid prostrated in front of the altar, a sight I never wanted to see again for as long as I lived. It was utterly heartbreaking. I could see her hands shaking as she gripped the thick fabric draped over the repurposed plastic table, unable to find the strength to cope with this horrifying reality… “I thank you all for coming today,” she finally said calmly as she straightened herself up and faced us. I knew that voice - the voice of someone needing to be strong while they themselves are so, very vulnerable… “I’m– I’m not going to tell you what kind of man my son was, nor lament his passing and how much I miss him…” Mamá’s voice trembled as she spoke, “Instead… I’m going to tell you all a story…

  “When he was about… nineteen years old, I think… Jackie was still in the Valentinos. They were at war with Maelstrom back then. I got a call from the hospital. They told me he got shot… three times,” she pointed to her chest, “Just by the heart. He was barely conscious by the time I got there. He had so many tubes coming out of his chest, he looked like an octopus or something… He told me, he said, ‘Don’t worry, Mamá,’ that ‘Look, I’m bulletproof. Nothing bad will ever happen to me…’ And when he left… he took off his Valentinos ring.”

  Mamá held it up over her head… So that’s how he ended up in the Mexican cartel… Must’ve wanted to get away from the war… Oh, Jackie… So much left unsaid… so much we haven't said to each other. Why didn't you tell me… Why didn't I tell you…

  “He said to me, ‘I won’t be needing this anymore,’ and left to go find his own way… But he was not scared. He just didn’t want me to worry…” she quietly wept to herself as she returned to the altar, gently placing the ring front and center. “Rest in peace… Mijo…”

  Mamá wiped her nose and took a step back, letting the next person take her place. There were no turns or anything… just… whomever wanted to speak… Viktor took the stage, carrying his boxing gloves…

  “Among the membership of the Night City Devils boxing club, we had a phrase,” he began, pacing around a little, “Make your best friends among the fighters who’ll knock you out cold. And it’s true – Jackie’s arm was a cannon. No one ever hit me quite so hard – heh, can still almost feel it… But he was also a best friend. One I’ll never forget.” Viktor placed the gloves to the right side, paying tribute to the urn containing Jackie’s ashes. “Twelve rounds, buddy…”

  I couldn’t find the strength to get up… 5 minutes, then 10… Why couldn't I say anything to him, even in death… Just about everyone else had a turn. Except me.

  “Campo Orta sent me,” a Valentino took the stage, representing the leader of the Valentinos who was currently serving time, “He said he’s sorry he couldn’t be here, still has four more years… But he wanted me to read this,” the ganger pulled out a book, “Ahem – ‘I remember when Jackie came to us. He was a tough kid. When he said he’d do something, he did it… he had honor. He would’ve gone far. My condolences to the family. May he rest in peace.”

  I guess there’s nothing left for it… I didn't want to. But I knew I'd regret it for the rest of my life if I'd said nothing… I thumbed the book I found as I finally got up, clipping my sword back onto its proper place and straightening out my kimono. I had so much I wished I could've said to him… so much left unsaid. To cut it down to 30 seconds felt almost disrespectful. But not as disrespectful as sitting there in silence, like I always did… No, he deserves better. I tucked my hands behind me and took a few moments… it felt like a fucking eternity.

  “Ahem…" I cleared the massive lump in my throat, not really knowing where to begin. Just say something, dammit…"Ernest Hemingway once wrote, ‘When you go to war as a young boy, you have a great illusion of immortality. Other people get killed… but not you… Then, when you are badly wounded for the first time, you lose that illusion…’

  "My name is… well, it’s not V… I’m… uh… not sure how Mamá introduced me to all of you. I know I look a little out of place standing here, as a member of this family. But seeing you all… appreciating Jackie… it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen…” I shook and tried desperately to compose myself, “Uhm–I’m sorry… Let me tell you a story, of when Jacquito and I first met… I come from a very different background to him. I was born a noble and joined the Japanese military… When I came here, I did so under orders. I had no allegiance to Jackie at first - in fact I thought he was my enemy. We met during a botched mission of mine, and he saved my life… heh, we probably made the most unlikely duo you’d ever expect… A samurai and a ganger, who would’ve thought, right?… But… but he took me in… Mamá took me in… And we spent the next decade together. Not as enemies, not even as… as friends–” I started quietly sobbing… “He–he was my b-brother… My brother… How blessed I was…

  “He had… uh… dabbled into other people’s interests to get to know them. I only just found out about this when I–I…” my voice trembled and broke into a million pieces, “I’m sorry–I… I'll cut to the chase - he was a Catholic. I’m a Shintoist… I never told him, but I actually did read the Bible. And, uh - t-there’s a quote I’d–I’d like to recite, it’s from the Book of John… it says, ‘In him was life, and the life was the light in men… and the light shineth in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not.’

  “Jackie was… he is… a light in the darkness… though I never told him my name…” I carefully placed the book upon the table, “But you know it now… I'm sorry it t-took so long… Rest in peace, my b-brother…”

  Never in my wildest dreams did I ever picture myself giving a eulogy at Jackie’s ofrenda… I’ve buried friends, partners, never someone as close as him… It all… it all just felt so hollow without him.

  "A toast, to Jacquito Welles. Son, brother, and friend," Mamá raised a bottle of tequila in the air before pouring a round of a dozen shots. I collected one, thinking back to our little inside joke…

  "To Jackie!" everyone shouted as they downed it.

  "To this…" I whispered to myself, tossing his shot into the fire. Jackie was always the tequila drinker between us…

  “Thank you for your kind words, V…” Mamá came up and said to me as the crowd dispersed, “Just remember he always loved you. No matter what was left unsaid.”

  “I know, Mamá… Thank you for doing this. For inviting me.”

  “You returned your brother to his home, you owe no one here any thanks,” she smiled before giving me a long, warm embrace, “Now go enjoy the festivities… ofrendas are for the living to celebrate the dead.”

  “I will,” I gave her a genuine smile in return. I feel like a massive weight just got lifted off my shoulders… I’d never been able to express myself like that. And I know, wherever Jackie was, he’s looking down and smiling right back at me… And I guess that’s all I could ever ask for. “It was a beautiful ofrenda.”

  “It was… it was more than I ever could’ve asked for,” Mamá replied with a still somewhat-shaky voice, “So many people came… even his new partner…” Her tone suddenly shifted, prompting me to do a double-take… is she really gonna do this now…

  “Her name is Misty,” I spoke insistently.

  “What?”

  “She was very important to him. Misty… They were in love.”

  “I–Forgive me… he never told me…”

  “I think you and her should talk in private, Mamá, maybe ask her out to dinner,” I nudged her glance over to Misty, hiding in the corner like a cowering spider.

  “I… I will…” Mamá spoke hesitantly, “You know, you’ve always been a good woman, V, no matter what you say about yourself, that's always held true… I have one more thing I wanted to give you.” She produced a key from her back pocket. “Jacquito’s motorcycle.”

  “W-what?!” I stood in utter disbelief, “I can’t accept this, Mamá!…”

  “Mija, he’d want you to have it, we both know that,” she smiled at me, "He loved cars and bikes more than life itself sometimes, you know… I could think of no better person to honor him than you."

  “You sure? He’d… my brother’d kill me if I so much as got a scratch on it…”

  “So don’t get a scratch on it,” she insisted. I knew better than to deny a gift from a Latina. Especially one I called Mamá.

  “I–I don’t know what to say…” I stuttered, “I’ll take good care of it.”

  “I know you will,” Mamá nodded to me, “Go with God, V.”

  “Thanks…” I frowned and looked over at his altar, “I’m gonna miss him.”

  “Me too, Mija…” her gaze followed mine, looking at her son’s beautiful urn, “Me too…”

  I didn't even know what to say to everyone else… what even was left to say… I was courteous enough, speaking with everyone in the room. Some, like Padre, knew Jackie since he was a baby… he always brought that with him. That sense of bravado on the outside, but humility that shines through to whomever cared to look. He was a rare spark, one which I hoped would start a warm fire on a cold night… a true light, shining in darkness.

  The bar was free, at least. I passed by Vik and asked him if he needed a ride home, though he shook his head. NCART train… Glad he didn't take it to get here. I needed some company, I think. "I'll take a shot," I motioned to Pepe.

  "Have as many as you like," he nodded, "Looks like someone stole your favorite seat."

  "Yeah… weird, huh," I chuckled lightly, "But I don't mind."

  "S'funny, keep thinkin' I'm gonna look over an' see him sittin' there, tellin' ya to hurry up and join him."

  "Well, let me know if he shows up, okay?" I downed a second shot he poured me in advance.

  "Will do, chica." Fuck… he always called me that…

  I had nothing left to say. Nothing left to think… Mamá gave me his motorcycle, but somehow it felt… wrong to ride it, at least without his permission.

  That said, I doubt he'd mind very much if I rode it to my apartment… Maintain it… keep it nice, for when he comes back…