BooksBarbecue
Back Salt and Sugar Save as PDF
Chapters (56)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. About the Author
  4. Dedication
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. EPILOGUE
  56. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

LARI: I trust you. Pedro, I do! I promise you I do! I was just worried about what your mother would do if she found out. I was trying to protect Salt.

No reply from him. My heart is practically in my throat.

LARI: I messed up! But you have to believe me when I say I trust you.

LARI: Pedro?

LARI: Let’s talk. I need to see you.

The dots go on and off, on and off, while I stare at my screen, breathless, until they disappear altogether. He’s given up on me.

LARI: Please, can we talk in person? Let me explain everything.

PEDRO: I don’t want to talk with you right now.

I hurl my phone across the room and curl up in bed, a pillow above my head to smother my sobbing. I don’t dare look up to find his curtains closed, shutting me out for good.

I wasn’t brave enough to tell him every time I felt Mom was acting strange. I wasn’t brave enough to end the vicious cycle that keeps our families’ feud spinning. All this time I couldn’t see past the feud. I feared betrayal, but then I went and betrayed him first.

Those hours we spent on the beach still feel like a dream... Like something I imagined. But reality comes crashing down.

I’m losing my home.

And I’ve lost Pedro, too.

40

SUNDAY, JUNE 19

The next day, I spend the morning in my room to avoid another fight with Mom. Late in the afternoon, I finally build enough courage to go looking for answers. I go to Parque das Flores cemetery in Recife.

I make my way carefully around the graves until I spot the oak tree that shades Grandma’s tombstone. It was the last thing I saw before I fled the funeral. The branches swaying in the cool breeze a few paces ahead of me. Just a tree. But it feels like a giant.

I approach carefully, trying to steady my breathing. I don’t want to be angry at Grandma. I don’t want to resent her. And yet I can’t hold back the pain anymore.

Mom’s words play over and over in my mind. Your grandmother told me to sell Salt. I shake my head. I tossed and turned all night, trying to understand why Grandma would have told Mom that. And it still makes no sense.

I keep thinking about something Grandma told me in early March when she was hospitalized. She said she’d dreamed I was little again, playing with the sugar bowl. “Did I tell you that back then I thought it was a sign?” she said. “A sign that you were meant for Salt. You were always in the kitchen.”

I think that’s when I knew for the first time that Grandma was...you know...