13. Gabriela
Chapter 13
Gabriela
Four Months Later
A month. I need to make it through one more month of school until graduation. The past four months have been an absolute living hell, from getting a job that works with my school schedule and is flexible enough to accommodate Mireya, to making sure my grades stay up enough to graduate. Luckily the school has been more than accommodating now that they know our situation. My job at the after-hours daycare is a godsend, letting me bring Mireya with me so that I don’t have to find a caregiver for her. The hours stink, and I have no life outside of school and work, but it is what it is.
We’re surviving.
Joaquín and his little group of asshole friends have not left me alone, reminding me daily that I am nothing more than a whore and that my father ruined his family. I find it comical that he’s calling me a whore, being a virgin and all. But whatever. I just want to make it to graduation, then I will never have to see him again. It’s not like our parents are in our lives to force us to see each other.
* * *
It’s the first weekend I’ve had off in over a month. I'm busy getting necessary things done around the house, like restocking the fridge and household essentials and getting a haircut for Mireya. Then later tonight we are having dinner with our father to discuss something important. I was extremely surprised when he called after he surrendered his rights to me. I almost told him to fuck off, but he said it was extremely important.
The drive to the wholesale warehouse is silent as Mireya naps in her car seat, and I lose myself in my thoughts. What could my father want? I gave into what he wanted, letting him give up Mireya and making me her legal guardian. The only thing I can think of now is that he’s going to tell me he and Joaquín’s mother are getting married. But I don’t know why he would feel the need to tell me. I wouldn’t give two shits if they did.
As I pull into the packed parking lot of the warehouse, the dread hits me like a punch to the gut—I hate having to shop here with Mireya. She always gets so overwhelmed. It’s got the best prices, and buying in bulk means I shop less often; it’s worth it. I park the car and wake Mireya from her nap, mentally preparing myself for the overwhelming experience that awaits us inside.
We navigate through the aisles, selecting the essential items that need restocking in our fridge and household. Mireya so far has been calm, and I’m thanking my lucky stars for the nap she willingly took in the car for this. With a full cart that I know is going to break our budget, I head toward the checkout. Mireya helps me put everything on the conveyor belt, and I pull her out of the cart to hold her as the checker begins to scan and pile things back in the cart.
Three hundred dollars later, I’ve got the back of my small SUV packed to the ceiling. Next is dropping off the groceries and heading right back out for Mireya’s hair cut. I check on her in the rearview mirror, and she’s staring out the window, watching the buildings and people as we pass them. I decided it’s time to prepare her for seeing our dad later tonight.
“Reya, do you know what we’re doing tonight?” I ask, trying to gauge if she maybe overheard me talking to our father on the phone. She surprises me sometimes with how observant she is.
“Movie night?” Not bothered enough to stop looking out the window. I clear my throat and let out a breath.
“No, maybe when we get home, but we have to see Daddy for dinner tonight.” I draw in a breath and hold it, waiting for her to respond.
“No. Movie, porfa .”
My heart sinks. I don’t want to do this either, but I feel I don’t know… obligated. Even though he dipped out on us, he is still my father.
“I’m sorry, Reya. We have to. We can watch a movie when we’re done and get home. How does that sound?” I look in the rearview and watch her chew her lip. Fuck. I hope this doesn’t set off anything.
* * *
The little Mexican restaurant is packed tonight, and even though we’re meeting a bit earlier than dad wanted, which I insisted on for Mireya’s sake, we’re seated and waiting for him to get here. The server has been so sweet in bringing extra chips for Mireya to help keep her happy. I pull out my phone and send Dad a text.
Are you almost here? Reya is getting antsy, and we’ve been waiting for almost twenty minutes.
Hi, Gabriela, It’s Ana; we are just now parking the car. Be in shortly.
Her. I’m still not ready to see her.
I wonder if they invited Joaquín?
Five minutes pass, and my eyes are fixed on the hallway that leads to the front, waiting for them to come around the corner. And sure enough, they do, hand in hand. My stomach lurches, and all I want to do is grab Reya and leave. To save us from the hurt that is bound to be coming our way.
“Thanks for meeting us,” dad says as he lets Ana slide into the booth first. “Traffic was a nightmare.”
I nod with a look on my face that shows my annoyance.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Gabriela.” Ana holds out her hand across the table. I stare at it, and she catches on and slowly draws it back, slowly, with a look of defeat on her face.
Good. Fucking bitch.
With my attention back on my father, “What do you want?”
“Should we order food first? I’m starved.” He says nervously as he picks up a menu, flipping through the pages.
I grab the menu from his hands, slamming it down on the table. “ ?Qué carajo quieres? (What the fuck do you want?)”
“Gabriela, don’t use that language.” His gaze catches mine, and I don’t falter.
“I’ll ask again. What the fuck do you want?” I say, a little louder this time and in English.
“Gabriela, your father wants to talk to you about the house.” Ana says calmly as she places a hand on my father’s shoulder.
“You mean our house, mine, and Mireya’s.” I eye him suspiciously. “The house my mother paid for, that she left for us.”
“It’s just a lot of house for the two of you, Mija. I think you should sell it.” I stare at him. Why the fuck would he care if the house was too big for us?
He clears his throat and continues. “I had no say in the divorce settlement with the house because it was in your mother’s name. And it was her job that bought and paid for it. I feel like I should get part of the revenue from the sale of it.”
This motherfucker!
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I shout, drawing the attention of other patrons. “You think I should sell the house that my dead mother left me, where I raise my sister, your daughter ? Just so I can split the money with you and your home-wrecking whore?”
Mireya grabs my hand and squeezes. Shit. I need to calm down, or she is going to freak out, and then everything will go downhill.
“My wife and I,” he starts, and I cut him off.
“You fucking married her? Well, you're a match made in hell—two cheaters together. How rich. Wasted no time in doing that.” I snort.
My anger is bubbling over, and I can feel the stares of the other diners weighing on me. Taking a deep breath, I try to regain control of my emotions. “Look, I don’t care about your excuses or your desire for money. This house is ours, the place where I keep my mother’s memory alive, where I raise your daughter as my own. Selling it would be the stupidest thing I could ever do.”
He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding my gaze. “Gabriela , I understand that it’s emotional for you, but you need to think practically. The house is too big for just the two of you, and it’s a financial burden. Think of the taxes. You could find something more affordable—you can move on.”
My blood boils at his dismissive tone. “Move on? Is that what you did when you left us for Ana? Did you just move on from your responsibilities as a father? Well, I won’t do the same. I won’t abandon Mireya or the memories we have in our home.”
Ana interjects, her voice surprisingly calm. “Gabriela, your father and I have discussed this at length. We believe it’s in everyone’s best interest to sell the house and divide the proceeds.”
I scoff at her audacity. “Best interest? Whose best interest? Yours? My father’s? Certainly not mine or Mireya’s. You two can go find another home to ruin, but this house is ours.”
Tears well up in Mireya’s eyes, she starts to rock back and forth. She’s stimming and I instantly regret my outburst. My hand drops to grab hers and gently squeezes it, trying to reassure her. “I’m sorry, Reya. I didn’t mean to get angry, and yell. I’m not going to let them take our home away from us.”
My father’s face softens, and he reaches out to touch my arm. “Gabriela, please, just hear us out. We’re not trying to take anything away from you. We just want what’s fair.”
I pull my arm away, refusing his touch. “Fair? Is it fair that you cheated on Mom? Is it fair that you left us for another woman? That you left me to raise my younger sister as an eighteen-year-old. No, Dad, your idea of fair doesn’t hold any weight with me.”
I turn to Ana. “I don’t want to hear a fucking word you have to say. Not only did you play a part in ruining my family, but you ruined your own. Your son is so angry, and he takes it all out on me. I’ve had to live with his bullying and the vile words he says to me all because of you two. So thanks for that.”
Silence hangs heavy in the air as we all sit there, the tension impossibly thick. I know deep down that selling the house is not an option for me. It’s a symbol of my mother’s love and sacrifice, and I won’t let it be tainted by my father’s selfishness.
After a few moments, I finally spoke. “I won’t sell the house, Dad. I won’t let you or anyone else take away what belongs to us. If you want your share, go find it somewhere else. But this house will always be ours. Do us a favor and lose our number.”
Dad’s face falls, and Ana looks disappointed, but I don’t care. I won’t back down. Grabbing our stuff and picking Mireya up from the booth, I storm off down the entryway and out into the parking lot. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” My words whisper into her ear as I fight back the tears that threaten to spill out. “Let's get pizza and go home and watch a movie.”
* * *
After a large pizza, two Shrek movies, and lots of cuddles, Mireya is in bed for the night. I pull my phone out and delete all the text messages from my father, begging me to reconsider. He can go fuck himself. I pull up the conversation I know I shouldn’t entertain. God, what’s wrong with me?
Life shouldn’t be this hard. How am I supposed to do all of this by myself?
I set my phone down on the coffee table and started cleaning up the mess from dinner. The ping of the notification goes off, and I walk back over and pick it up.
Why are you doing it alone? You have your mom.
For a moment, I contemplated unloading everything on him. To tell him that my mom died and that I was alone in raising my sister. But I decided against it.
It’s not like he would care anyway.