Years had passed since Tea last saw Enrique. She avoided him like the plague. They were not close, as distant as two members of the same family could be. The only thing they shared was a general disdain for one another, a disdain that bordered on hatred.

There was a time when they were something resembling close. Those days were long gone and never to be revisited. She never regretted the rift in their relationship. The only thing she did come to regret was ever trusting him in the first place.

He was her youngest brother, still five years older than she. Like every family, there were stories about how they grew up. Stories of his jealousy when Annarosa first told her boys that she was carrying another child. Stories of the tantrums he threw throughout the pregnancy in an attempt to gain attention from his ailing mother. Family legend had it that the stress he caused his mother during her pregnancy, forced her to have to be bedridden for the last three months she was carrying. It was impossible to separate embellished truth from fiction, but Tea was pretty sure she pieced enough together to get an idea of the kind of terror her brother caused.

Abuela was said to have told her daughter on more than one occasion "that boy is going to kill Teita." Del had caught Enrique once, standing over Tea's crib with a pillow in his hand, leaning over the railing with "murder in his eyes." Another time, he picked her up and started shaking her violently until Del ran into the room to stop him.

Where that rage came from, nobody knew. It went far beyond sibling rivalry, to something more sinister and dangerous. Tea learned to sleep shallowly, periodically waking herself to see if anyone was standing over her, ready to kill her at any second.

Despite everything, she still loved him. It was how their mother raised them all. Love one another, she said. She tried to live by that code, even after her mother's death, but even she had her breaking point.

It had been brewing. The storm was mostly quiet, with few thunderous eruptions. It was in the summer, hotter than it had ever been, reaching into the low nineties for two weeks in a row. Tempers were short. There was something in the air, and everyone knew it was only a matter of time before all hell broke loose.

Enrique had been watching Tea, with eyes that shimmered of evil. She tried to stay as far away from him as possible, but wherever she turned, there he was. He would smirk at her, rub his two index fingers against each other in a "shame, shame" manner. Like he knew something and was ready to tell. She was afraid, but did not confide her fears in Del, or anyone else for that matter. She was a big girl, and she could handle Enrique all by herself.

Her father came home after working a double shift. He was tired and very irritable. He didn't speak to either of them when he walked in, nor did he speak to them after he cracked open his first beer. He took a long drink; let the liquid cool him down. Sweat still lingered on his body. He smelled of funk, sweat, alcohol, cigarettes and outdoors combined. Enrique had the television tuned to a cartoon. Their father didn't ask if anyone else was watching, he just turned it to the news and sank back into the worn imitation leather chair. His chair.

Tea had gone back to her room where she felt a little more secure. She didn't know what was going on in the other room. Though the walls were paper thin, she didn't try to hear. If she had, she may have been able to brace herself for what was next.

Her bedroom door detached from the hinges, when her father threw it open, slamming it against the wall. All she could see was a massive figure standing over her in a white tank, dirty old blue jeans and a black leather belt dangling from his hands.

Too stunned to speak, unable to make any sound at all, she felt the cold, hard buckle beating against her skin. She saw the red tracks that dribbled down her legs. Rage. That was the only word that repeated through her mind. Daddy wasn't supposed to hit her; he threatened, or even attempted, but never hit. And there was no one to step in. Enrique was in the doorway with an expression she could not decipher.

Her father muttered something in Spanish. Spoke full sentences filled with anger. Yelled curse words. Only bits and pieces could she understand, but from those bits, she was able to put everything together. Enrique did have a secret…her secret, which he could not keep. He whispered in their father's ear, things as he saw them. Little sister had gotten pregnant. Little sister was not so innocent. Her reputation was one of ill repute. Embellished. Lied. Wanted to be number one in their father's eyes, so he spilled everything he knew, and things he did not. It was Tea who paid the price.

Rarely did that day ever cross her mind. Nobody, besides Del and Abuela knew what really happened that, to everyone else it was known as the day Tea was robbed and mugged on the subway. The family name could not be disgraced, so they took a secret vow to "stick to the story" no matter what. Sticking to the story did not mean she had to give him her forgiveness, and she took another vow to never give it. Del and Abuela were different. They were angelic in their ability to forgive and move past anything. They didn't horde things the way Tea did. She horded her feelings, bottled them up inside her, refused to share with anyone. She thought life was better that way. They liked to get things out in the open and deal with them. Hanging on only makes things worse for everyone they tried to tell her.

Speaking with Enrique was a great sacrifice. If she didn't feel so guilty about Roseanne and the situation as a whole, there was no way in hell she would ever speak to him again. Guilt got the better of her and she decided to bite the bullet and call him…eventually.

She spent the better part of the day picking up the phone and hanging it back up. Busying herself with work she had let pile up while she was away taking care of Todd. Giving Caitlin advice about her latest man problem. Basically, doing everything she could to distract herself. When five o'clock rolled around, there were no more distractions. Caitlin left for the day, the phones stopped ringing, the world seemed to stop, leaving only his telephone number in front her.

"Fuck it," she said, dialing the numbers. She tapped on the desk while she listened to the ringing in her ear.

"Hello?" A woman's voice answered.

Still the ladies man. "Hello. I'm calling for Enrique Delgado…do I have the right number?"

"Yes, who is this?" She asked pleasantly.

She resisted the urge to yell "none of your fucking business into the receiver," instead she spoke just as pleasantly, "Tea."

"One minute please." There was a commotion on the other end, she could hear voices whispering, almost arguing.

"Tea?"

"Yes. I thought I'd give you an update on your daughter…you do remember your daughter, don't you?" She asked sarcastically.

"Just as fiery as ever."

"Uh, huh. I just thought that maybe you would want to check up on her, you know, see if she needed anything. That is what father's are supposed to do."

"She doesn't want to see me, you of all people know that."

"Call your daughter, okay? For once in your life take responsibility for something and be a father to her." If it were possible, she would have reached through the telephone and smacked him as hard as she could. He was so much like their father it was frightening. The way he cared so little about someone he helped bring into the world, after loving her so much as a baby, angered her. It was as if once the novelty wore of, he no longer had any use for his daughter. And when she needed him most, he acted as if she was the reason they were estranged, when it couldn't have been farther from the truth.

"Why you want to try to tell me what to do? The girl hasn't tried to reach me. If she wants to see me, tell her to call."

"You are still a bastard. I thought that maybe you cared a little for someone other than yourself…I guess I was wrong. Just forget I called, and get back to your life."

"Wait," he yelled, before she could hang up. "What is goin' on? Last time I talked to you, you told me to go to hell, or some words like that. Now, out of the blue, you tell me to call my daughter. Something's going on."

"Call your daughter and talk to her. Ask her how she's doing, what's going on in her life, you know, the things that good father's do."

They traded more insults; both tempted to turn the conversation into a shouting match. Tea had to keep reminding herself to put aside her own hatred and focus on the task at hand, giving Roseanne something that she had wanted for a long time, a chance to talk to her father.

It surprised Tea when, toward the end of the conversation, Enrique asked for Roseanne's phone number. She was smart enough to not give him her home phone number, but a cellular phone that she had purchased for her months before. Enrique was a sneaky one, and if, as she had suspected, he had not changed from when she saw him last, he would show up at her doorstep and rob her blind.

*****

She checked the clock for the umpteenth time, dreading the dinner date she and Roseanne had scheduled. Things had been tense between them to say the least. Tea chalked it up to wacky hormones, which was only part of the problem. After living with Todd, tense was a piece of cake. Sometimes, she wished that all the negativity would disappear into thin air and she could live peacefully, the way she did when she was alone.

"Hey Tea, you ready?" Roseanne asked, peaking inside her office. Tea looked worn out, like she hadn't slept in days. The way she walked the floors most of the night, she was sure that sleep was definitely a rare experience for her.

"Oh, yeah, yeah. Just give me a minute." She neatly stacked her work into a priority pile, with the most important cases on top. She took her time, preoccupied as usual. She glanced over at Roseanne, and for some reason, her eyes filled with tears. She was only a little bit younger when she was faced with the same decision, and her choice affected the rest of her life. It shaped every decision she did and did not make.

*****

A Cuban Restaurant

Roseanne had been having strange cravings, especially for things that were spicy. People used to call her "tender mouth" because of her system's inability to tolerate anything hot. Not anymore. She craved fiery foods, even kept a jar of jalapenos on hand. She would take three or four at a time and stuff them into her mouth, cooling her tongue with a tall glass of milk.

She had a taste for something Cuban…Cuban and spicy. She flipped through Timeout New York and found a little out of the way restaurant…one of the city's best-kept secrets. It was secluded in its location, private, very intimate.

There was a discomfort in the air, and an obligation to fill the deadness with meaningless chatter. They talked of things that would not cause a flare up of tempers, "safe subjects," tap-dancing around the touchier. Unbeknownst to Tea, Roseanne had long ago sensed a change in her attitude. She was still ambitious, driven, smart as a whip and tough as any man, but beneath it all was a deep sadness.

Roseanne didn't dare broach the subject, knowing it would lead to yet another argument. Instead of confronting her, she just watched, trying to figure out her stranger of an aunt. She would never understand her, nor did she particularly want to. It seemed odd to see Tea so distant, when there was a time when she was anything but. At first, she attributed it to the stress and strain of being a successful attorney. Then, she figured it had something to do with her own pregnancy. Finally, she had come to the conclusion that it had something to do with a man.

She saw the signs with Todd, the slow withdrawal from any and everything dear to her; into the maelstrom that was the life she and Todd built. She exhibited the same desires for privacy, the same quietness, the defensive attitude when confronted. It had to be a man.

Tea was extremely perceptive when she wanted to be. Certain things and people blinded her, but when she was on, nothing slipped passed her observant eye. She was well aware that she was being watched by Roseanne, and was extra careful not to let her armor slip. There was no use in bringing in another person to join in her misery.

Carlotta had phoned her at her office, prodding her for information on her unborn grandchild. Call Roseanne and find out, she wanted to say. Tell your son to take care of his responsibilities she wanted to scream. The Vega's pissed her off riding around on their high horses as if their shit didn't stink. Christian got someone pregnant, and all of a sudden there were a million excuses being made for him. In a way, she wanted Roseanne to have the child and keep it as far away from the Vega's as possible. They didn't want to have anything to do with her while she was pregnant, if Tea had anything to say about it, they sure as hell wouldn't see the child when it was born.

Tea knew that her anger wasn't just about the baby, there was so much more. There was some jealousy at the family unit that they had. There was the maternal element that she missed. There was the judgment that they tended to pass on anyone who didn't meet up to their standards, like Todd. And there was their rightness of the judgment passed on Todd. She shook her head, attempting to banish all thoughts of him. When that didn't work, she renewed the conversation, turning it away from her and onto Roseanne.

"Have you talked to Christian?"

"Nope. He doesn't want me, Tea."

I know the feeling. "If he doesn't, it's his loss. You are strong Roseanne, and smart, and beautiful. If you ask me, you are lowering your standards by being with someone like him."

"I have been in love with him my whole life…how can that be lowering my standards?"

"The way he's acting, sweetie, he's not good enough. You have been so focused on him; you have not allowed anyone else into your life. Believe me, once you let go, you will be able to see exactly what you have been missing and what you could have." The trick is letting go. Freeing that permanent lock they have around your heart is damn near impossible.

"Didn't people tell you the same things about Todd?" The dark shadow that passed across Tea's face at the mention of Todd's name did not go unnoticed. Her eyes filled with sadness instantly, and just as quickly went back inside.

"I want you to learn from my mistakes," was all she could say. Sometimes, she even wondered if she had learned her lesson, or if she would get caught in his web again.

"Tea, why is it always like this for us?"

"Like what?"

"Why do we make the wrong choices in men?"

It was a sincere question, one that Tea was surprised to hear her ask. It was the first time that she had admitted that maybe Christian was not the right man for her. She had asked herself the same question over and over again, and could never come up with a clear answer. In the end, she decided that maybe she was just doomed to failure when it came to men. She made up for it with success in her career. She thought about the right answer long and hard before speaking. Roseanne was still young; there was still hope for her when it came to men. With the wrong words, she could easily break her spirit and her hope for happiness, just as hers had been broken by bad relationship after bad relationship. "I don't necessarily believe that we make the wrong choices, I think it's all about timing. Maybe three or four years from now, the man that is wrong for us today will be right for us then."

"So, he could be right for me?"

"You never know." Eventually, the conversation was going to turn to Tea. She had no desire to open up about how she would never again give her heart to a man, or how she could never love, or how her romantic life consisted of fucking various men.

"Yeah, well, I don't have three years to wait; I need to know now." She sighed and twisted a lock of hair around her fingers. Sadly, she said, "I was thinking about my dad today-"

"Uh huh."

"I remember this one time when me and Christian were kids and we were fighting. Daddy teased me because he said I liked Christian and I got so mad. I wonder what he would think now?"

It broke her heart to hear the pain in her voice whenever she talked about her father. The pain was mixed with bitterness, yet somehow the love always came through. You rotten bastard.