14. Chapter 14
Acouple of weeks later
I walk into Yara”s room, expecting to see her curled up with a book or staring at her brand new smartphone that now seems permanently attached to her hand.
It hasn”t taken long for her to acclimate to more of an American life, and the comforts afforded by a life with Gerald.
Instead, she”s sitting by the window, staring out at the darkening sky.
The light from the sunset casts an orange glow on her face, highlighting the sadness in her eyes.
”Hey,” I say softly, sitting down next to her.
”Hey,” she responds, her voice barely above a whisper.
I wait for her to speak, sensing that something is bothering her.
”How was school today?” I ask.
I can”t imagine it would be easy, settling into not just a new country and home, but also to a new school and classmates and all that comes with that.
Especially at the age of twelve, when hormones are running rampant and classmates hone their words like weapons.
”School”s fine,” she finally mutters, but her lack of enthusiasm speaks volumes. Yara loves to learn, and this is not like her.
”Is something wrong?” I ask, placing a hand on her shoulder.
Yara hesitates before speaking. ”Everything”s so different here, Mama. The way they talk, the games they play...I don”t fit in.”
I feel a pang of guilt, wondering if it was a mistake to uproot our lives and move to the US. But I push those thoughts aside, focusing on Yara”s words.
”Have you talked to anyone at school? Made any friends?” I ask gently.
Yara shakes her head. ”It”s hard. They all seem so...different. I”m the odd one out, and they think it”s funny.”
I take a deep breath, trying to think of a way to help her adjust. ”Maybe we can find some cultural events or groups to join, meet other people who understand what it”s like to be new here.”
I”ve done a bit of research online, but I must admit, that kind of investigation gave way to more exciting pursuits like exploring the new house and making vacation plans with Gerald.
Yara nods slowly, but I can tell she”s still hesitant. ”Can I tell you something?” she asks, her voice small.
”Of course,” I say, sensing her need to confide in me.
”Today, some girls were making fun of my accent. Saying I think I”m better than everyone because we live in Gerald”s fancy mansion,” Yara whispers, her eyes brimming with tears. ”They said I”m a silly bitch and that I think I”m pretty but I”m not.”
My heart breaks for her, anger boiling inside me at the thought of anyone saying such cruel things to hurt my child.
”Those girls are just being mean,” I say firmly. ”You”re not better than anyone, but you”re also not less than anyone. You”re unique and special, and they don”t have the right to make you feel otherwise.” I pause, and take her hand in mine and meeting her eyes. ”And they”re right, you are pretty. They”re probably very jealous of this stunning young girl who has just joined their school. They”re probably worried you”re going to steal all their boyfriends.”
I wink at her.
Yara nods, a small smile crossing her face. ”One of their boyfriends did say hello to me at lunch, and the meanest girl of all, Denise, seemed to get really mad.”
”See? There you go. You just keep being your wonderful self and eventually they”ll get tired and move on to the next target.”
”Thanks, Mama,” she says, leaning into me for a hug.
As I hold her close, I can”t help but think of the stories I”ve heard about high school life in America.
A sliver of doubt creeps in.
Did we escape one life of isolation and uncertainty, only to land in a new place where we feel like outsiders?
Despite trying for so long to escape it, part of me suddenly yearns for the simplicity of our old life back home.
But I push it aside, focusing on my daughter and our new life together.
There”s no going back now.
This is just a speed bump, something to be expected when you change countries and enroll your child in a new school.
We”ll make it work, no matter what challenges come our way.
I hold Yara a little longer, wishing I could protect her from the cruelty of the world. But I know I can”t shield her from everything.
”It”ll get better, Yara,” I say, as much to reassure myself as her. ”We just need to give it more time.”
Yara nods, but I can see the apprehension lingering in her eyes. The same apprehension I”m trying hard to fight back.
This mansion, a symbol of our new life, suddenly feels like another gilded cage. Isolating us from the normalcy we so desperately want.
But, I remind myself, this cage comes with Gerald”s kindness and attentiveness, not Luchenko”s cruelty.
I need to get over my past so I can embrace my future, or I risk losing everything.
I pull Yara in for one more hug, holding her tight.
No matter what doubts creep in, I won”t let them take root.
I made the choice to bring us here.
Now I must find a way to make it feel like home.
The next few days go by without incident.
Yara seems to be more settled, and even brings home a couple of assignments where she received an A grade. I”m so proud of her adaptability and tenacity.
As I sit in the sunny nook of the kitchen, I glance at a romance novel without really letting the words sink in, my mind drifting to other things. Suddenly, Yara”s voice startles me from my thoughts.
”Mama, can I talk to you about something?”
She perches on the edge of the seat cushion, fiddling with the hem of her skirt.
I imagine she”s been given a hard time again at school.
I swear, if these petty girls don”t lay off I”m going to march down there and give them a piece of my mind.
”Of course, sweetheart. What is it?” I keep my voice as calm as possible, trying not to add to whatever”s bothering her.
Yara takes a shaky breath before speaking. ”I heard some girls at school talking about Gerald. They were saying bad things.”
I stiffen slightly but try to keep my voice steady. ”Oh? What kind of things?”
”That he”s...he”s not a good man. That he”s hurt people before.” Yara”s eyes are downcast. ”And that you”re not the first, you know, wife he”s brought over from another country. That it”s all just a show and you”re...”
She trails off, but I can fill in the rest.
My fists clench at the thought of such poison being spread about my fiancé, and how that makes my daughter feel. And me, if I”m honest.
”Yara, look at me.” I tip her chin up gently. ”It”s just idle gossip. You know how people love to talk about those more fortunate than themselves. They see this mansion and the lovely clothes Gerald got you for school, and they just can”t help themselves.”
I smooth back her hair, offering a reassuring smile.
But inside, I feel that familiar flicker of doubt. What do I really know about the man I”ve entrusted our future to?
No. I can”t go down that road.
Not when Yara needs me to be strong.
I”m not going to let some pre-teens and their immature fairy tales ruin this for us.
”This is just part of adjusting to our new home. Try not to let it get to you.”
Yara nods uncertainly. I pull her in for a fierce hug, as much to comfort myself as her.
We sit in silence for a while, doubts swirling.
But I can”t let them take hold.
I made my choice. Now I must find a way to quiet the storm brewing inside us both.