Short hair suits me. There’s something about it, but I can’t put my finger on it. It makes me look powerful, confident. A whole new person. I guess that’s what I wanted: a new identity. Even though cutting my hair won’t give me that.

I put my hands on the edge of the bathroom sink and gaze at my reflection. Knowing that Grandma’s house isn’t in my name makes it harder to free myself from Mom’s grasp.

The truth is, I knew this from the start. Nothing is in my name. If I was doing whatever she wanted, then I was supported financially and given a home. A home that carries all my beautiful memories.

My grandma was my only friend. She was a great listener. I know she felt responsible for everything that happened to me, but it wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t responsible for her daughter’s actions.

We would always cuddle in her tiny bed and watch soap operas. I was totally hooked on them. I guess that’s where I got my obsession with TV. And she loved to wash my hair, even though her back hurt. And she’d cook mashed potatoes for me, no matter the hour, just because she knew I loved them.

She taught me this recipe to do when I crave something sweet. It’s so simple — just white bread, sugar, and a couple of drops of water. I know it sounds weird, but it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.

Her name was Maria, and she was a light in my life. Until she passed away.

I sniffle, noticing the tears on my cheeks. Wiping them away, I open the bathroom door and walk downstairs. If this is my last day in this house, I can’t leave without a meal in Grandma’s honor.

As I reach the bottom, I’m surprised to see Elias asleep on the couch, his body almost falling to the floor and one of his big hands plastered to his chest. Dog One is asleep under his arm, while Dog Two is nuzzling his hair.

I snap a photo with my phone, then quietly cover him with a blanket, praying to God I won’t wake him up. He looks at peace, his face all relaxed.

My gaze finds its way to his lips. They look more full than usual. I lean forward, closing the distance between us, then take a step back when I realize how stupid this is. I pick at my cuticles and consider my next move.

I close my eyes and sigh.

Fuck it.

I lean forward again and kiss him. Quickly. Almost like a peck. I turn, ready to leave, when a warm hand grasps my arm. I freeze, too afraid to move. Maybe if I stay still, he’ll think it’s a dream. Yeah. Sounds like a plan.

“One more.” His raspy voice fills the silence.