#princesa

Then you saw your abuela walk into the office. Immediately you had toddled over to her and reached to be held by her. But once the woman had started to talk to your abuela she shook her head. You didn't really understand what was going on. Something about legal guardianship and all that. But your abuela had shaken her head and signed some stuff before she got up and left.

You got up too and started to follow her. Surely if she was here you'd go with her now. But the woman that had picked you up from nursery picked you up again and mumbled. “I am sorry Y/n. Abuela doesn't want you to go with her right now.” Her voice sounded sad and confused. But she called more people. Till finally a very stressed person rushed in.

You immediately recognized the woman with the kind Green-Brown eyes. Your Tía Alexia. She was Mama's best friend and your godmother. She was crying.

You didn't understand why the woman with the pretty eyes had been crying so much. You didn’t understand why you couldn’t hear your mamá’s voice anymore or why papá didn’t come to tuck you in. And nobody was explaining anything, they were talking about that guardianship topic again. But Tía Ale nodded. She immediately nodded and picked you into her lap.

You didn't know what was going on. But you knew that something had shifted and the world was suddenly heavier than you could carry.

So you clung to the hem of Alexia’s sweatshirt that day, your little fingers curling into the fabric as if you could anchor yourself to her. She was only in her early twenties then. Far too young to be anyone’s mother. But she held you like she’d been doing it all her life. You could smell the faint mix of grass and laundry detergent clinging to her clothes. Her hands were trembling, though she tried to hide it. She smoothed your hair down with a tenderness that made you whimper softly.

The adults around you spoke in voices that hummed above your head. Words like custody, guardianship and grandmother refused. They meant nothing to you, but you understood the way people looked at you. Like you were something fragile that might break if dropped. You hid your face against Alexia’s chest and she tightened her arms around you, like she could shield you from all of it.

She signed a lot of long papers and then took you with her. To her childhood home, where her Mama and sister were waiting up. Eli immediately rushed forward and hugged her eldest daughter close, which meant you were wrapped in the hug as well.

“It's gonna be okay.” The woman whispered to her daughter. “Everything will be okay.”

Alexia’s left arm around you just tightened, while her other hand clung to her mother's shirt. “They’re dead and her abuela. She didn't want her. I couldn't let her go. She's all they left behind." Alexia croaked out and cried into her mother's shirt, while you sat there confused on her hip.

Eli hummed and swayed but of you. “She's safe with you. With us. You're not alone in this. We're gonna be here and help you with this little one.”

It wasn't till later that you had been told what happened. Alexia couldn't do it at first so she had to wait for a while to calm herself back down. But then she told you.

“Pequeña. Your mamá and papá are gone.” She said softly while holding you close. You blinked confused. “Gone? Where to? I go see them?” Alexia choked out a sob and pulled your little body closer. Like she wanted to shield you from the confusion and heartbreak that would hit your tiny body. “No, we can't go see them anymore. They went to heaven.” “Heaven?” Your little voice echoed confused and scared. You knew that when people died they went to heaven.

“They come back for me?” You whispered, scared and chewed on your lips. Alexia was crying as she held you. She didn't know what to do, she was only 20 herself and had never imagined her best friends passing away and leaving their baby behind for her to raise. “No baby. They can't come back. We won't ever see them again.” “Never again?” Your voice broke as you started sobbing. “Need mamá and papá.”

Alexia didn't know what to do except hold you and cry with you. Even as you started hitting and screaming. She just held you till your limbs calmed down, your voice had gone raw from sobs and screams. In the end your little body had slumped into her chest. You were shaking from anxiety and stress, but you clung to her.

Two days later the funeral happened. And you didn't really understand it. Mamá and Papá were lying there sleeping and then the weird beds got closed and they got put into the ground. How would they come back and find you if they got buried in the ground? You cried again and the people that once called you family glared at you. Your aunt, your cousins, your grandparents. None of them tried to comfort you. Only Alexia did.

You didn't know that none of them. None of your relatives had stepped up to take you. They all had told the social worker they don't want guardianship over you. Not one of them had wanted to keep you. Only Alexia, who had been your godmother, had stepped up. She couldn't bear the thought of you going into care.

That night, after the funeral, she sat with you on the edge of the bed in her childhood room. The walls were still plastered with posters of footballers, ticket stubs and a scarf folded neatly over her desk chair. She had tucked you beneath her old blankets. They were too big for your tiny frame, the fabric swallowing you whole. Then she sat there long after she thought you’d fallen asleep. But you weren’t asleep. You kept your eyes half-closed, listening.

Her voice was soft, almost breaking.

“I don’t know if I can do this, princesa.” She whispered into the quiet. “I don’t know if I’m enough. I’m… I’m just me. I am only 20… there's so much I don't know.”

You didn’t understand the weight in her words, not fully, but you caught the sound of princesa. It was the first time she’d said it to you and it felt like a warm blanket all its own. You stirred a bit. Your little hand reached blindly for hers. When your small fingers curled around her larger ones, Alexia froze, then pressed your hand to her lips.

That was when she made the promise. She would keep you. Even if it was hard. She couldn't let you go. Not to strangers and she would not let you disappear into the silence of people who had already erased your parents from their hearts. She would give you a home, even if it meant growing up too fast herself.

Downstairs her mother and sister were still awake, they both had said they'd do everything they could to help. Her mother had promised she'd help find a good school for you and figure out how to find you good doctors and a child therapist. She could do this. She'd be your guardian.