24. Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
F our Months Later
Paris
"Two days at Disneyland when Versailles is right there,” Soila grumbled as she puttered around the hotel suite in her slippers and robe. “In winter!”
“Mama!” Dina gestured to Camila who was fast asleep on the plush sofa, her bare feet resting on Dina’s lap. Speaking softly, she said, “She’s fourteen. She’s a child, and children like roller coasters and rides and meeting princesses.”
“Is it wrong that I want her to also experience some culture?”
“Mama,” Dina said with a sigh, “the palace will still be there in three days. We can shuffle around the schedule to make it work.”
“Well, we’re not rescheduling our visit to the Dior Museum!” She sat down in an exaggerated huff and tugged her robe closed over her chest. “I had to call in favors to get that VIP tour.”
“We can always add a day or two to our itinerary,” Dina offered, her gaze drifting to the windows overlooking Paris. In the distance, the shadowy glow of the Eiffel Tower could be seen. This morning, there had been light rain, but nothing too terrible. Camila hadn’t minded a bit as they’d enjoyed coffee and pastries before a shopping trip. “There’s no rush to get home.”
“No work?” Her mother asked, her brow arched expectantly.
Dina shook her head. “No work when I’m on vacation. That’s a new rule. My family time is family time.”
“ Hmph, ” Soila interjected. “Took you long enough to make that rule.”
“Yes, it did.” There was no point in arguing with her mother. “I made mistakes. I wasn’t the mother I should have been.”
Soila clicked her teeth. “That’s not true. You were— you are —an incredible mother. You’re a wonderful daughter and a loving sister. You’re a good friend to everyone.”
Taken aback by her mother’s strident defense, Dina shifted in her seat. She winced at the growing discomfort in her belly and silently cursed her period for threatening to show up a week early to torment her. Figured her evil uterus would want to make a dramatic entrance in Paris!
“I told you to go see Jovita’s sister to get the massage.” Her mother reached for the coffee pot on the room service tray. “I had it done after every single one of you were born. I’ve never had the problems you do.”
“Mama.” Dina didn’t want to hear about matriz caida or ancient fertility remedies. “Not this again...”
“You’ve spent how much money at the doctor? And you’re still this miserable? What can it hurt to go see Imelda?”
“Uh, it could hurt a lot! They practically jump up and down on your belly!”
“Don’t be dramatic! It's nothing like that at all.” Soila waved her hand. “It’s a little massage, some pressure, and then it’s done.”
“I’ll pass and stick with my gynecologist.”
“Suit yourself.” Her mother poured two cups of coffee. “Maybe if you tried wearing fajas for some support?”
She shot her mother a perturbed look. “I don’t think strangling my waist with fajas is going to help.”
With an aggrieved sigh, her mother added sugar and milk to the cups of coffee. She took the cup and saucer offered to her and one of the little silver spoons. She gave it a stir, watching the coffee swirl and turn a creamy caramel shade. As she let her coffee cool, she waited for her mother to offer some more unwanted advice but none came.
Before she’d fallen asleep, Camila had been scrolling TikTok while the framed television across the room played a soothing fireplace loop. Sitting with her mother and daughter, drinking coffee and contemplating, felt like a novelty. They didn’t often have quiet moments alone like this. Back home, even in that massive mansion, they seemed to always be surrounded by other people. There was no privacy, no time to simply sit in silence and contemplate together.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“I doubt it.” Her mother rolled her eyes in the exact same way Camila did, and Dina smothered a laugh. “All right. Tell me then.”
“I never blamed you. For any of it.” Her mother placed her cup back on its saucer with a clink that betrayed her nerves.
Realizing her mother was anxious, Dina kept quiet and waited to see what else she wanted or needed to say. She’d been practicing listening more, waiting to hear what the other person had to say before jumping in with a comment or a solution. Her therapist had been clear that she needed to learn to hold space for others.
So. Here she was, in Paris, with her daughter asleep next to her and her mother trying to find the right words. Holding space. Listening. Being present.
“I never blamed you,” Soila repeated. “I blamed myself.”
Taken aback, Dina’s lips parted. She started to speak but remembered her therapist’s counsel. Listen. Be present. Wait .
“I should have been a better mother to you,” her mother continued, still not making eye contact. “I should have stepped in and gotten rid of him when you two first started dating.”
“Got rid of him?” She couldn’t hold her tongue after that remark.
“Money,” her mother clarified. “I should have paid him to go away.”
“He would have only come back for more.”
“That’s exactly what your father said.”
“Did he?” Dina felt such sadness hearing that.
“He thought we should let you make mistakes.”
“And Abuelo?” Dina held her breath as she waited for an answer she was certain would sting.
“He thought we should have handled it the old way. ” Soila drew her finger across her throat. “Bury him in a field and call it a day.”
Dina wanted to be shocked that her grandfather would suggest murder, but he was part of a different generation and a different time. She shuddered to think how many problems her grandfather and great-grandfather and all her other ancestors had buried out in those fields.
“I blamed myself, Dina. I still blame myself.” Her mother sighed heavily and removed her glasses. She slowly rubbed her eyes and shook her head. “I was so mad at myself for letting Diego ruin our family. I was so angry that I hadn’t acted to protect you and Camila and the rest of our family.”
“But you never said anything,” Dina said, floundering in her emotions. “You wouldn’t even speak to me after—.”
“It was wrong of me, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t open my mouth without sobbing. I was filled with grief and rage and despair.” Soila slipped her glasses back into place. “I didn’t trust myself to say anything to you. I knew if I opened my mouth the wrong words would come tumbling out, and I’d shatter what little was left of you. You were so fragile, and I couldn’t risk it.”
Memories of the hours and days and weeks following the murders of her father and grandfather flashed before her eyes. All those stiff interactions. Her mother leaving the room anytime she entered. The cold shoulder. The mask of indifference.
“I thought you hated me,” Dina finally confessed. “I thought you wanted me dead instead of them.”
“Never! You’re my daughter! I love you! But I failed you and let you get hurt.”
“You didn’t!”
Her mother waved her hand. “We can argue about this until we’re blue in the face. I failed you, Dina.”
Sitting there, taking in her mother’s confession, Dina sagged against the sofa. Confused. Twisted. Heartbroken. “All that time—”
“I wanted to make it right. I kept trying, but I didn’t have the right words. I didn’t know how to tell you that I was sorry. I didn’t know how to bridge that gulf between us. It just kept growing and growing. It became easier to ignore it. To let it be and hope we could move on,” her mother admitted.
“I could have said something.” There was enough blame to go around, and there was no reason for her mother to shoulder all of it. “I should have made an attempt to fix things instead of letting this fester for more than a decade.”
“We’re so much alike in that way.” Her mother smiled sadly. “We build these invisible walls. We’re reluctant to say sorry and ask forgiveness.”
Dina nodded in agreement. “I just kept telling myself that I had to be the best daughter, the best mother, the best sister, the best executive. If I did that, I could earn back your trust.”
“You never lost it.”
They lapsed into silence as the heaviness of the moment weighed upon them. Now that it was all out in the open, the silence felt almost companionable.
“What are you going to do about Steve?”
Dina’s shocked gaze snapped to her mother. “What do you mean?”
Her mother clicked her teeth. “Dina! It was obvious to all of us that you care about him. I’m certain he loves you. He risked his job for you. He killed for you. What more do you need from him to prove he’s serious about you?”
“It’s not that simple, Mama.”
“It is,” her mother insisted.
“His life is in Texas. My life is in Mexico.”
“There are ways around that,” her mother argued. “We’re rich. He doesn’t have to work.”
“I don’t think he’s the type to sit idly by and be a kept man.” She couldn’t even imagine Steve puttering around the estate without a purpose. He’d die of boredom.
“You could move to Texas.”
Dina frowned. “That’s Rafa’s domain now. My place is at our headquarters in Guadalajara.”
“Then I suppose the two of you will have to compromise,” her mother wisely suggested.
“If he still wants me,” Dina said, uncertain she still had a chance with him.
“Of course he still wants you!” Her mother seemed scandalized by the very idea Steve wouldn’t want her daughter. “Why wouldn’t he?”
“I haven’t talked to him since he left,” she admitted quietly. “I wanted to call him or message him, but I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“That I can’t be the woman he needs.”
“Why don’t you let him decide that?”
“What if he doesn’t want me?” Dani voiced her greatest fear. “It’s been months since he left. He’s had time and space to clear his head. He might have realized I’m too much trouble. I have all this baggage. My ex-husband killed his grandparents for God’s sake!”
“He doesn’t hold that against you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Neither do you,” her mother unhelpfully pointed out. “Stop avoiding the issue. Call him—or better yet—go see him.”
“I couldn’t.” Dina’s heart raced at the very thought of seeing him again. She didn’t think she could control herself if she was close enough to touch him, to smell him, to kiss him.
“You can.” Her mother rose slowly from the chair and plodded across the plush rug. She leaned down and tenderly kissed the top of Dina’s head. “Be brave, Enedina.”
Left with her thoughts, Dina watched her mother leave the parlor. A small movement caught her attention, and she realized Camila was awake. Camila offered a sheepish smile and apologized. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hear all that.”
“It’s okay.” She patted her daughter’s foot. “No more secrets, remember?”
“Except for the one you’re keeping from Steve?” Camila dared to ask.
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“It just is,” Dina insisted feebly.
“Ama.”
“What?”
“Call him.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.” Camila sat up and pulled her knees close to her chest. “You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be loved.”
Dina swallowed hard. Her throat felt tight, and her eyes stung. “I am happy. I am loved by you and our family.”
Camila rolled her eyes. “You know I’m not talking about that kind of love. I’m talking about big, crazy, ridiculous romantic love. Disney love.”
She smiled sadly. “I think I’m a little old for princesses and fairytales, Camila.”
“Disney has love stories that aren’t princesses. I mean, come on. Steve isn’t exactly Prince Charming.”
She bristled at that. “He could be a prince.”
“If he had to be any Disney character, it would be Woody.” Camila smiled mischievously. “I’d bet a million pesos that he’s yelled about a snake in his boot at least once in his life.”
“Camila!” Dina couldn’t help but laugh at the image of Steve sauntering around like the lanky cowboy doll. “What does that make me? Bo Peep?”
Camila giggled and scooted closer. Dina looped her arm around her daughter and pulled her in closer with mother affection.
“When we get home, you should call him,” Camila said, snuggling in and yawning sleepily. “He’s a good guy. He cares about us.”
Us.
He cares about us.
As Camila drifted back to sleep, Dina replayed those words again and again.
Us.
A family.
My family .