Chapter 30. Lorena
lorena
I’m sorry.
Please talk to me.
I know I fucked up, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.
Sal, just give me one more chance.
I’m begging you.
I sit on my bed Sunday afternoon, scrolling through all the texts I’ve sent Salma over break. She hasn’t responded to a single one.
She and I were on the same flight home when we left Huntington, but she asked the person in front of her to switch seats. Then when my parents picked us up, Ma made the customary offer: Would you like to come home with us? To which Salma always agrees.
But this time, she said no.
I’ve tried visiting her, but the doorman at her building—who’s known me since we were kids—wouldn’t let me up.
“She’s out,” he said all three times, but I could tell it was an excuse Salma made him give me because he called me by my real name and not Di Fara for my favorite pizza place.
He and I have a long-standing debate about who makes the best pie in New York, so I call him Joe’s.
I only know Salma is alive from her social media posts. Since her page is public, I can see her recent updates without having an account myself. They’re all photos or short videos of her latest outfit or her iced coffee set against the skyline or her current read, The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue.
My parents were expecting her for Thanksgiving at our house, which included my whole family—grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins—but Salma never came.
I had to lie and say she was spending it with another friend from school.
I couldn’t say it was her dad because Ma checked in with him—well, his assistant—and she knows he’s still in Europe.
It’s a punch to my gut because I know Salma has spent all break in an empty apartment. She’s so put off by me that she would rather suffer her mom’s absence than my company.
At least I’ll see her soon because we’re sharing a car to the airport. She can’t keep ignoring me when we’re in the same back seat.
I pack a smaller bag this time because winter break is just a few weeks away.
Instead of taking my usual boxy sweaters and oversized hoodies for weekends, I open the forbidden drawer—that’s what Salma calls it—where I store all the clothes she’s bought me as birthday gifts or handed down to me over the years.
I rarely wear any of them because Ma wouldn’t approve of the short skirts or plunging necklines or midriff-baring tops.
Since the car will be here soon, I can’t put off the last and most important task on my list any longer: What to do with William’s video?
I moved it to my laptop, and I erased it from my phone, my recently deleted folder, and the cloud. It now exists only on my hard drive.
I stick a fingernail-sized USB drive into one of the ports, and I drag the file over. Then I delete it from my desktop and the trash, and I tape the drive to the underside of the lowest plank in my bookshelf.
Knock, knock.
I don’t bother with “come in” because the door is already swinging open. Unlike Pa, Ma doesn’t knock to ask for permission but as a precursor to entry.
“The car is almost here,” she says, and I pretend to be scanning my book spines in search of something.
“Cool.”
“I can’t believe you’re already leaving again.” She perches at the edge of my bed. “It feels like you were barely here. And now I’m not going to hear from you again for weeks—”
I roll my eyes. “I said I was sorry about a million times—”
“This isn’t a guilt trip,” she says. “I’m genuinely trying to understand what’s going on.”
“Meaning?”
“You and Sal have been inseparable since the maternity wing, but I haven’t seen her all week. What happened? Are you on the outs?”
I shut my eyes, wishing I could x out of the conversation. “It’s nothing, Ma. I’m sure we’ll talk it out on the way to the airport. Should we check if the car is here yet?”
“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” When I hear her halting tone, my gut tightens.
“What?” I ask, already dreading whatever she’s about to say.
“Salma called me earlier.”
“She did? Why? Is she okay—?”
“She’s perfectly fine,” says Ma, “but she said she decided to head back to school earlier, so she moved up her flight. The plane was about to take off when she called, so we couldn’t speak for long.”
My heart drops to the pit of my stomach, like an anchor sinking to the seafloor. She cut off all communication with me. She left for school without me. She called Ma instead of me.
Did I just lose my best friend for good?
“You know, Tía Elena and I rarely fought, but when we were twenty, we had an epic falling-out,” says Ma. “We didn’t speak for almost six months.”
I couldn’t care less about their fight. In six months high school will be practically over. What if Salma changes her mind about applying to the same colleges and choosing the same one to attend?
“It gets worse,” says Ma, either not realizing or not caring that I’m not interested. “The argument was over a guy.”
“I don’t want to hear this,” I say.
“The worst part?” she asks as I reach for the handle of my suitcase. “It was Salma’s dad.”
“Diego?” I stop moving, my voice dripping with disbelief.
Ma sits up now that she has my attention.
“Elena and I met him at the same party, and we both fell for him. Only she had the misfortune of being the one he was interested in. But at the time, it seemed like she had won and I had lost, and I was so mad at her for it. I couldn’t stand seeing them together, so for months I ignored her.
Then one night, I met your dad, and I realized how unfair I was being.
I was lucky that my best friend was the most understanding person in the world, and she forgave me. ”
“I can’t believe you never told me.”
“Not even your dad knows,” she warns me, her eyes wide. “It was not my most shining moment. I’m not proud of it.”
“No shit,” I can’t help muttering.
“So?” she asks me. “Is it … about a boy?” I can hear the cringe in her voice, the hope that she’s way off.
“It’s not like that,” I say, fighting hard to keep my eyes from rolling. “It’s just a misunderstanding, but she’s not giving me a chance to explain. I’ll talk to her at school.”
“You’re not going to tell me what it is? Even after I just told you one of my most embarrassing moments?”
“It’s too fresh right now. Ask me in twenty years, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
She stands up and faces me. “Lore, I don’t like feeling this distant from you.”
“I said I’d call more.”
“You realize your college applications are due in a month, and you’re still missing your personal essay?”
“I’m almost finished with it.”
“Have you narrowed down your choice of schools?”
“Salma and I have a list—”
“Honey, you can’t build your entire life around Salma.”
“You’re saying that?” I ask with a hard laugh. “You and Elena did everything together, down to giving birth!”
“Yes, but part of that was because I didn’t know what I wanted, so it was easier to follow her,” says Ma with a sigh.
“It wasn’t until you were born that I realized what I was meant to do in this world was raise you.
I found my calling in being your mother, and when I opened a social media account to share my experiences, I didn’t think anyone else would care.
It was only as I gained more followers that I was able to build a career and a name for myself—but I know I got lucky.
Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you? ”
“Ma, believe it or not, that’s how most people figure things out. It’s normal not to have a plan for your future before you’ve even gotten to college.”
“But are you giving serious thought to your interests, or are you more concerned with Salma’s?”
This is probably not a good time to bring up the idea that Salma floated by me on our way to Huntington a few months ago: Deferring college for a year to go work with an organization that builds houses in Perú.
“Are you saying this because you actually want Salma and me to be apart?” I ask Ma.
“No, of course—”
“Because honestly it feels like you haven’t been her biggest fan ever since that party.”
I know I shouldn’t have brought it up, but it feels like that viral video is a specter haunting all our conversations, and I’m tired of ignoring it.
“I obviously wasn’t thrilled, Lorena—”
“But you blame her for it when I’m the one who chose to go.”
“Only because she asked you to—”
“And I don’t regret it. I will always be there for Sal, no matter the consequences. That’s what it means to love someone unconditionally.”
“Exactly my point,” says Ma. “I love Sal, but she’s never been one for following the rules the way you do, and now that Elena is gone, I worry she might be on a different path from you—”
I take Ma’s hand, and I grip it tight enough that she stops speaking.
“I know you raised me the way you thought was best, but don’t you think that maybe part of the reason I haven’t been able to make any choices about college is that I still have no clue who I am?
You’ve made so many of my decisions for me that now it’s like an undeveloped muscle that I don’t know how to use. ”
She looks shocked, and I feel her fingers go limp in mine. I wish I could stop here, but now that I’ve started, I need to finish.
“When you don’t like my decisions, you blame Salma for them, and when she doesn’t agree with my choices, she blames your rules. Neither of you seems to think I’m capable of reasoning for myself, but I am. Trust me.”
I squeeze Ma’s hand, hoping she’ll react, but her fingers remain lifeless.
“Car’s here!” Pa calls out.
“I gotta go, Ma.” I give her a quick hug. “I promise I’ll call.”