The Last Sunrise

Chapter Twenty-Three

Dinner seems to drag on endlessly. Once it’s finally over, Julián and I leave the table at our first chance. He kept one hand on my thigh during the entire meal and didn’t utter a single word. I hated every moment, but we both knew it was necessary to show my mom that we will not be separated, no matter how much tension is surrounding us. The air feels less constrictive the further from the table we get, and Julián finally talks, telling me how awful the food tasted and how he doesn’t know how I’ve sat through those stale, emotionless business dinners my whole life. He leads me through the crowd as the music picks back up, and we make our way to find Amara and Prisha’s still-dancing bodies. Makes sense that they didn’t eat, since there was assigned seating and neither of them was technically invited, but they certainly didn’t seem to mind.

“You showed up.” Amara pushes at Julián’s shoulder and turns her eyes to me. “Better late than never.” She smiles, knowing how desperately I wanted him here, or anywhere I am. She gets me.

“Wait, weren’t you wearing a green dress?” Amara asks, looking me over.

Her eyes fall on my hair, my obviously changed appearance. She giggles, looking back and forth between Julián and me.

“Okay, okay. I see.” She clicks her tongue. “Well, glad you two lovebirds made up, because I didn’t want to have to pick a side and really, really didn’t want you to leave tonight, Ry. You’re not leaving now, are you?” She grabs both of my hands between hers and my stomach drops.

I really hope Julián missed what she said about me leaving. Now that he’s here, physically and mentally back with me, I can’t imagine leaving. Deciding to do so was impulsive and wouldn’t have helped anything. What will Julián think of me running off, back to the States? I can’t bring myself to look up at him to find out. I can feel his eyes on me, but I purposely focus on Amara.

“Who’s in charge of the music? It sucks. We’re trying to make the best of it, but it’s getting a bit snoozy,” Amara says, tilting her head to the DJ booth.

An elderly man stands there, unmoving, very far from your typical DJ at a party. His shoulders aren’t moving to the beat, his eyes are downcast, not caring to notice if the crowd is enjoying it. But this is a fancy charity event, so I’m not shocked that my mom hired the stuffiest DJ in all of Spain. Frank Sinatra’s crooning voice fills the room. Frank himself is a legend but couldn’t be more opposite of what Amara is looking for.

“We’re the youngest people here, what did you expect? And the crowd isn’t exactly fun…” Prisha half smiles, and all four of us look toward my mother, who is anything but.

“Maybe you can request something? Who knows, the DJ might also be bored.”

She smiles, and Prisha shakes her head but follows Amara’s bouncing body toward the booth.

“They seem to be going well,” Julián notes, nodding toward their hands intertwining as they walk away.

I smile for them. “I’m so glad, even though the whole temporary, accepting the relationship may end in a few weeks thing still freaks me out a bit, but different strokes for different folks.” I shrug.

Julián lets out a laugh. “What an American expression.”

“Isn’t that what we agreed on too? Being temporary?” I remind him and myself.

“Don’t remind me.” He pulls me close and leans in to kiss me, but just before his lips touch mine, his eyes widen at something behind me, and his body stiffens.

I jerk my head around to see what he’s focused on, and a chill runs over me as I recognize that the man in the crisp suit striding toward us is Julián’s father, Mateo. His thick, dark curls are pulled back into a sleek look, banded just above his neck. A far cry from the cutoff shirts, board shorts, and flip-flops I’ve seen him in on the docks or on his boat. He nods to his son and passes us, heading straight for the center of the room. Beelining to my mother. She blinks rapidly, losing her composure for a moment. It’s refreshing to see on the one hand, but I’m worried for her on the other.

There’s a nervous twitch in my mother’s mouth I’ve never seen before as Mateo approaches her. She straightens her back and lengthens her neck. She refuses to appear shaken in front of everyone. At least she’s consistent. The air in my lungs disappears and Julián squeezes my hand to comfort me.

“Should we stop them?” I whisper through the mild panic bubbling at the base of my neck. As angry as I am with her, I don’t want to see her humiliated in front of a crowd, especially by a man she once loved.

Julián’s hand moves to rest on my lower back. He shakes his head. He gently caresses me, attempting to reassure me, and even in this intense situation, his touch gives me goose bumps.

“This is their business, not ours,” he reminds me.

“It doesn’t feel as simple as that,” I tell him, looking for even a touch of worry in his eyes, but there is none.

After a few seconds he adds, “Nothing is simple, Ry. But they cannot avoid each other forever. Do you want to go outside so you don’t have to see whatever is about to happen?”

I contemplate that. Running away with him into the night sounds like the easier and certainly less-stressful choice, but staying here and seeing the two of them together firsthand is something I’ve been curious about since I found out about their history. And Julián’s right, this isn’t our problem to solve.

“I guess my invitation got lost in the mail, Iz?” Mateo steps closer, directly in front of my mom, and her eyes continue to blink rapidly, as if a ghost has just appeared.

I’m sure, and hopeful, that no one except me notices; that despite her cool expression, she is absolutely flailing inside.

“What are you…” She trails off, clearly trying to compose her thoughts and hide her surprise in front of the hundreds of eyes in the room. She takes a few steps away from the group of investors she’s entertaining, trying to divert Mateo from their earshot.

“Mateo, to what do I owe the pleasure?” She adjusts her tone. Performative, professional, sickening.

I know that tone all too well; I’ve heard it on hundreds of her work calls throughout my life, and now she’s using it on someone she once loved. The more I learn about my mom, the more confused I am. On the one hand, I feel for her, the life she could have had; and on the other, I blame her for so many wrongs and so much damage.

As they size each other up, parts of the crowd begin to notice, little by little. Julián and I move closer too.

“The pleasure? The nerve you must have to come back here and try to swallow up my business, my workers’ lives, my son’s future? The only one who finds pleasure in hurting people is you.”

His words sting me by proxy, and it takes all my self-control not to defend my mom, even though Mateo is right and is completely justified to feel that way. It’s a stark difference to how forgiving of her he was with me, but maybe he finally snapped now that reality must be setting in.

“This is a celebration of a new Arts Center for the island, a charity event… if you hadn’t noticed.” My mom sweeps one arm through the air in front of her and her gifted vintage Rolex sparkles under the lights. It’s nauseating.

“Oh, I noticed. The whole island noticed,” he sneers, pain in his eyes and splashed clearly across his face. He’s not someone who hides his pain or emotions, not like her. She’s managed to guide him to the door, away from most of the ears. I nod to Amara at the DJ booth, and she understands what I mean. The volume of the music rises.

“I tried my best, Mr. Garcia,” my mom coos, and I can tell by the gleam in her eye that she chose his title very carefully, very callously. “We’re paying you handsomely, more than the company is even worth, and your workers, and you , agreed to sign the contracts. We both know the company can’t withstand the demand of resorts here, and if we didn’t bail you out, the next buyer would completely take advantage of—”

“Bail me out? Is that what you think you did?” Mateo’s voice is full of disbelief.

My mom nods, and the thick necklace moves in unison with her heavy sigh.

“Think of the tourism this will bring to the area. More tourism, more money.” My mom’s voice is beginning to break, and I’ve never seen her run out of steam so quickly in my entire life.

“We have the oldest fishing company on the island, and we would have done just fine if you didn’t keep bringing tourists here and destroying our land and resources. You know, like you used to complain about before you turned into this.” He waves his hand from her head to her toes.

“This isn’t personal.” She swallows. “It’s business, and it was going to happen whether I was involved or not. I tried to make the best of it, which is why we’re here, to give back to the community with the Arts Center, and that’s only the beginning. Think of the jobs the resort will bring.”

“Everything between us is personal, Miss Pera.” Mateo takes a step back from her and leans against a tablecloth-covered high table behind him as if my mom’s callous treatment has cut him straight to the bone.

“Don’t give me that shit about helping the community. What we need is programs for the kids, jobs for their parents, yes, but not another resort polluting our ocean and ruining the land. If you cared about your homeland, you would be building the Arts Center without forcing us out of our land. This is where you’re from! Aquesta és la teva gent!” Mateo’s voice rises with every word.

“How can you do this without an ounce of sorrow or regret? Without any hint of respect for me and my family? You are not the woman I knew, and not a woman your mother would even recognize. She would be devasted that you turned out this way. T’has tornat cobdiciós i menyspreable.”

“No, I am not the woman you knew. She was a careless, romantized child. And how dare you speak of my mother. And my greed? My greed has fed my family. I can’t say the same for you. This money will be life-changing for you, Mateo. You’d never have to work again.” She shoots, aiming to kill.

“Stop deluding yourself into thinking you’re saving me when you know damn well that’s not the kind of man I am! And I will speak of your mother and your greed because she didn’t have a greedy bone in her body, unlike you.”

My heart breaks for both of them at the mention of my mom’s mother, who I never had the chance to know, as Mateo makes a cross shape across his chest by tapping his index finger in the four spots. When I was young, my mom talked about her occasionally and told me a handful stories about her. Before my mom started to harden over time, I could tell she loved her mother and that her death affected my mom more than she would ever say to me. The more she pretended she didn’t exist made that even more explicitly clear. My mom’s face is a shade of pale I’ve never seen outside a hospital room.

The black necklace around her neck seems to tighten, choking the breath from her. Her free hand pulls a little at the heavy jewelry. “Mateo, you need to leave.”

“Why? It’s been too long since someone has called you on your shit, Iz. I’m not one of your yes men and, no, everyone”—he turns to the thankfully small crowd of spectators—“I’m not drunk. Not one drop.” I wonder why they’re speaking in English, then realize that the only people Mateo wants to hear this seems to be SetCorp, and it appears to be a direct decision made by him to prove a point, a point that’s clearly working.

“Mateo, let’s talk outside. There’s so much you don’t understand,” my mother urges. His mentioning her mother shakes her, because even the glass in her hand is swaying slightly and her legs look wobbly in her heels. That, or she truly does put everything below her company, her ego and reputation.

“You’ve had so much time to call me yourself. You yet again made a choice for me without asking me, and you can’t just throw money at everything and fix it like you always do! You knew how important this was to me, but you still moved forward. I waited, thinking you would call me yourself about this, and you didn’t. I don’t have anything else to say to you. I just wanted to come to your fancy party and look you in the eyes one last time, hoping, praying that there was just one ounce of the woman I knew and loved. But now, looking at you, there’s nothing inside you that I can hold on to. You’ve become someone you yourself would have hated, and I can finally go on with my life without you haunting me, without thinking about what it could have been like with you. It would have been hell being with you, you soulless woman. Enjoy your fucking money, Isolde. Enjoy destroying our land and toast with the millionaires who are the only ones who will be able to survive here if this doesn’t stop! Toast to all the families whose lives are ruined now because you just had to have one more hotel built! Cheers, everyone!” Mateo holds an imaginary glass in his hand and lifts it into the air.

A few people I recognize from SetCorp are staring, worried looks covering their usually smug faces. It pisses me off that this is all falling solely onto my mom’s shoulders. My mom’s complexion has lost all color, and I have never, ever seen someone speak to her the way Mateo just did and live to tell the tale. Her eyes are shining, her chest moving up and down, the black stones bouncing off the lights. The flute in her hand shakes so much that the champagne splashes over and onto the shiny floor. She doesn’t even look down at it as a man in a server’s tux dashes over to wipe it up.

I want to rush to her side, but part of me is desperately hoping that his words will resonate with her. I want her to process them, not shut them out like she does with every emotion since I can remember.

She stares blankly ahead, watching Mateo’s exit as he shouts, “Good job, everyone! Ho estàs arru?nant tot!”

“He said, ‘you’re ruining everything,’?” Julián whispers. “I’m not going to tell you the rest. You don’t need to hear it.” His voice is sympathetic, caring for me even though his own father is hurt.

I can’t take my eyes from my mother. Even though her expression looks empty, I know her well enough to know she’s anything but. She’s lost somewhere in the past, in pain, and still watching Mateo’s back.

“Go to her,” Julián urges me, pushing gently against my back.

I’m torn. I want to comfort her, but in a fucked-up way, I want her to learn something from this, even if it’s only temporary. I watch her for a few seconds and can’t take it anymore. I kiss Julián’s cheek.

“I’ll be back,” I sigh.

“I’ll be here,” he promises.

I grab ahold of my mom’s hand. Reluctantly she attempts to stop me as I lead her out the closest door. She hesitates a little more, and I yank at her, not giving her a choice but to come with me. I know she must be humiliated, hurt, and already trying to think of a way to explain what just happened to the people at her company.

As soon as I push the door open, she lets out a huge gasp of relief mixed with panic as the night breeze hits her. She lets go of my hand and grasps at her chest with both hands, then pulls at the necklace, ripping it off in one pull. The heavy stones fall onto the concrete in a cluster of thuds, and I bend down to grab them, knowing they must be worth a ton of money. She grips my shoulder, pulling me up.

“Leave them,” she tells me.

“Do you want to go to your room?” I ask her.

Her dark eyes are stormy, and her breath is blustering. She shakes her head.

I’m stunned by the words that follow. “We should have never come here.”

I think back to the flight across the Atlantic, the excitement she tried to hide in her eyes as we landed on the runway. So much has changed since that day, it feels like a lifetime ago.

“We should have never come here. I shouldn’t have brought you here; we shouldn’t have—” She struggles to speak, as if she just ran up twenty flights of stairs.

“Mom, I know it had to be hard to face him. But—”

She holds her hand up to cut me off.

“It’s not as simple as that. Facing him… I’ve been starving inside for years without seeing him, unbearably missing him, full of regret for decades. Facing him was every nightmare I’ve ever had come true. He’s disgusted by me. My mother would be disgusted by me.”

In my entire twenty-three years on this earth, I’ve never had a vulnerable conversation with my mother until we got to this island. The fact that she had this great love and never even mentioned him to me is evidence of that. She’s never talked about herself, her feelings, her anguish, not one mention of regret. Not ever.

“He’s missed you, too, I know it. I’ve spent time with his son this summer, Mom. Stories about you, about your life, your mom, our family. I’m sure he feels angry and betrayed right now, and that’s why he said those things, but he loved you more than you can imagine. He’s kept letters from you…” I don’t want to share everything Julián has told me, but I need to salve a little of her pain in some way.

Her eyes fill with tears, and she blinks them away like the inconvenience she’s always labeled them as.

“How did you even meet him? You never told me how you met his son. You said you were with Amara and her friends. God!” she shouts. “I don’t even know what my daughter has been doing since we arrived because all I’ve cared about and focused on is this damn company and building this resort. I brought you here to show you how beautiful it is, how wonderful life can be when you just let the energy of the city into your soul, but I’ve been so blind. I owe this company my life, and yours… and you know what?” She smiles, but it’s the furthest from happy as it can be. “I’ve given it to them at the expense of everyone. I’ve convinced myself I was doing the right thing by taking over the acquisition and build because of the money I knew it would bring to his family, knowing damn well that man doesn’t care about money. They were going to do it anyway, Ry; the plan had already been set in motion, but I took over, knowing I could get Mateo a better deal, more money. God, even as I’m rationalizing what I’ve done, everything is about money, and I don’t know when I became like that.”

Tears fall down my cheeks and I wipe them away, mirroring her movement. “His son is the boy I was going to tell you more about,” I hesitate but add, “when you canceled our boat tour.”

She shudders. “Ry, I know you hate me, but I wouldn’t change anything I’ve done, because it’s kept you alive. But I wish—” Her chest continues to heave. “I wish I would have done better, by you, by my mare, by Mateo… my god, Mateo.” My mother presses her palm against her chest as if to keep her heart attached to her body.

“Mom—” I struggle to authentically comfort her because it’s been so long, if ever, that I’ve seen her truly open and remorseful. I wish we hadn’t lost so much time. And more than that, I wish it wasn’t running out.

“Do you love him? Julián?” she asks me, grabbing ahold of the banister closest to her. Her shoulders slump as if she can barely hold herself up.

I nod. “I do.”

“You must hate me.”

“I can’t hate you. I hate what SetCorp did and what they made you do… Julián and Mateo’s lives have been turned upside down and I don’t know how they will recover from this, but I know how much your work means to you and how much theirs means to them.” I gulp, staring at the glimmer of lights reflecting off the pool water.

I will never understand how she, or anyone, could put money or a job before their morals, but I keep that thought to myself in this moment. She’s been through enough for one night, and hurting her more isn’t going to make things right.

“I can’t go back in there. My colleagues, the hotel employees, I’m so embarrassed. It wasn’t supposed to go this way…”

I can’t tell if she’s referring to the event or the chain of events since we arrived here in Mallorca.

“Let’s go around to the front and to your room,” I suggest.

She shakes her head. “I can’t be a coward. This is my event, my job, my responsibility. I can’t just run away.”

“Why not?” I ask her.

She looks at me like I’ve grown an extra head or two. “Why not? Because I can’t.”

“But you can. What makes you think you have to go in there and finish out the evening acting like nothing happened, when you’re clearly upset and heartbroken? You don’t have to keep suppressing yourself, Mom, you have every right to ‘run.’?” I hold up my fingers in air quotes. She isn’t running, she’s been working her ass off for months on this event. Her job is done.

“Heartbroken?” she snarls, the look in her eyes changes from hurt and distraught, and a slight chill runs over my bare arms at the shift. “I am not heartbroken, Oriah,” she scoffs, lying through her teeth with a voice full of defense.

“Mom, it’s okay to be—”

“Do not tell me what’s okay and what’s not. You don’t have a clue about the real world, or what I’m thinking or feeling right now. I am not concerned about some man I loved thirty years ago. I care about my reputation at the company that has done so much for me, for us. Who do you think pays for your treatments? Your MRIs? Your private hospital rooms and medication? Your livelihood is directly connected to my career. Not Mateo or his son. My priority is you, no one else. I’m not going to let anyone or anything chance that, Oriah. Not him, not this damn island, nothing.”

Here she is, Isolde Pera, in full force. Acting cold and disconnected from her emotions and reality. Using my condition as a wall, a never-wavering excuse to not care about anyone or anything else.

“I may not have a clue about the real world, and that’s because you have never allowed me to, but I do know you, whether you’re aware of that or not, and I know that you don’t only care about your job. Why is it so hard for you to admit that you care about something other than your fucking work? And stop using me as some sacrificial lamb for why you behave the way you do! I’m not my condition, Mom, I’m so much more than that, so stop blaming it for your emotionless, empty heart!” I’m getting angrier by the second.

I try to take slow, deep breaths and ignore the pounding sound and throb of pain behind my earlobes. The low sound of water trickles and I know what’s coming. I can’t stop it.

“You told me you were going to show me where you came from this summer! You promised me that you would spend time with me before I fucking die, and you haven’t looked up from your phone long enough to know that I haven’t even been taking my medication! Julián has shown me and taught me more about this island and where I came from, my culture that you robbed me of knowing anything about my entire life! It wasn’t yours to take away from me, but you did, just like you do everyone else! Julián—”

Her eyes are nearly popping out of her strained face. The veins on her neck and forehead are angry and deep purple. “What do you mean you haven’t been taken your medication? Did he tell you not to?”

I throw my hands into the air. “No! I made the choice myself. I made a choice for myself, and for once it has nothing to do with him or you, or anyone except me!”

“I don’t believe you. He’s influenced you enough to stop taking your medication, and you had a seizure today! You could have died, Oriah! You’re not to see him again. I’ll file a report against him for stalking, and you know what money can buy. You’ve seen it and lived in luxury your whole life. Better yet, you’re going home. I’m putting you on the next flight out tomorrow and you will not involve yourself in this any longer.”

Rage rips through me and I scream at her, knowing I have seconds at best.

“Do you have any idea how much I resent you? How lonely I’ve been my entire life, desperate for love and affection and starved of it? I’ve never been this happy and I’ve never felt love from someone else like I do now. I’m not leaving this country until I die, which lucky for you will be sooner than later. The fact is that I stopped taking my medication the moment we got here, and you didn’t notice because you barely fucking look at me! I heard the doctor tell you that my tubers shifted, so I went and saw him alone and I know the truth. Julián has been the best thing to happen to me, and I love him, and you will not keep me away from—” My vision begins to blur, and I imagine Julián there behind her, rushing toward me as I lose my footing, and someone screams my name. The warm pool water wraps me up, hugging me, pulling me under…