Chapter 29
Vanessa
“How’d it go?” Lisa asks as she lets me into our parents’ apartment, her brows knitted in concern.
“I said my piece, and he listened.”
She follows me down the hall. “And?”
“And nothing, Lili. We both agreed it wasn’t meant to be. Well, Jason agreed more than I did, but I can totally understand where he’s coming from, and I’m obviously going to respect his wishes.”
“You guys are being so stubborn. There’s no reason for you two to be apart. Do you want me to talk to him?”
I whip around and stop her in her tracks. “No, Lili. Don’t get involved. This is our issue. We’re grown-ass people—”
“Acting like grown-ass children,” she mutters under her breath.
“It’s not your job to fix this. Please don’t interfere.”
She throws up her hands. “Okay, okay, fine.” Then she takes my hand. “But I’m only pushing because I love you, and I think Jason could be your person.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll never know now, will we?” She flinches, so I soften my tone. “But thanks for being here for me. It means the world.”
“I know something that’ll make you feel better,” she says, tucking one of my curls behind my ear.
“What?”
“Mami made flan.”
Oh, my favorite dessert. Flan truly can cure everything that ails me. Except my broken heart, of course. But that doesn’t matter; I’m not expecting to be cured of that affliction for a long time anyway.
I immediately drop onto the couch. “Mami, you need help in there?”
“No, sweetie,” she calls back. “Your father’s helping.”
I stare at Lisa in shock, and she laughs at my dazed expression.
“He’s been helping more and more,” she says.
“I think he finally realized that she’s his equal at the store and he needs to be her equal at home.
” She whispers the next part: “He even does laundry now. Peep how Mami has a bunch of pink tops. They’re supposed to be white.
He keeps messing them up, but she won’t say a word. ”
“He’s probably trying to get out of it.”
“Not going to work. She will wear pink every day of the week if she has to.”
I sigh happily. Yeah, I’m torn up about Jason, but I’m reconnecting with my family, and it’s refilling my well in a way nothing ever has. “I’m glad I’m home.”
“You should tell them that.”
“I will.”
“All right, everyone,” my mother says, carrying two dishes to the table, my father trailing behind her carrying just as many. “?Vamos a comer!”
“You do know there are only four of us,” Lisa teases.
“All of your favorites,” my mother says, shimmying her shoulders.
Then she sets down the dishes and circles the table as she kisses each of her daughters and her husband on their foreheads.
Holding hands, we say grace together, and then we pass around heaping serving plates of chicharrón de pollo, pollo guisado, arroz con habichuelas, and tostones.
My mother jumps up. “?Ay! Se me olvidó la ensalada de aguacate.”
“No one’s going to miss the avocado salad, Mami,” Lisa says.
My father points a finger at Lisa once my mother’s out of earshot. “Psst, she made it, so you’re going to eat it.”
“Yes, sir,” Lisa says, saluting him.
We spend most of the meal chatting about the changes to the store and my parents’ plans to slow down before they move on to their next adventure.
Lisa shares that she’s lobbying for more funding at work and that the principal might allocate budget money for an assistant counselor position.
In the back of my mind, I’m listening for an opportunity to tell them what’s been going on in my life and finally clear the air about the incident that still makes my stomach turn all these years later.
But I conveniently find an excuse not to speak up each time there’s an opening.
“Are you excited about the new office?” my mother asks me. “It must be a big deal to be a part of the expansion, right?”
It would be so easy to just say yes and keep the conversation moving, but my experience with Jason has taught me how important it is to be honest with the people you love. “Yes…and no.”
They wait for me to explain, so I take a deep breath and do just that. “Yes, being a part of the expansion is a good thing. It brought me home. And I get a small raise, mostly to cover the increased cost of living. But I was kind of pushed out by my boss, who I was dating.”
My father sets down his fork, his expression hardening. “That pendejo who was here a couple of weeks ago?”
“Yeah,” I say quietly.
“Was he married?” my mother asks, her eyes wide.
Oh God, this is excruciating. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.
Lisa takes my hand under the table. “It’s okay, Vanny. This isn’t your fault.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Well, it kind of is my fault. I dated my boss. But no, he was single. And you don’t have to say it: I know it wasn’t smart. You both raised me better.”
“But he’s the boss, so he’s supposed to know better too,” my mother points out.
“Agreed. It’s just…It was a mess. He wanted me to keep dating him. I didn’t want to get serious. And so he recommended me for the New York office. I think he expected me to beg him to stay, because I’d told him I’d grown apart from my family.”
“And it backfired,” my mother says.
“Yeah, it did,” I say, my eyes glistening. “Because I really want to be here with all of you, and I know things have been strained between us since I left for college, but I’m hoping we can work on that. Maybe we won’t get back to where we were, but I’d like to try.”
“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Papi asks. “You can tell us anything.”
Lord, I don’t want to do this, but if I’m going to earn their forgiveness, I need to lay myself bare.
“Because I never feel like I should be complaining around you. It feels selfish. I never told you I was being bullied at McGreeley for that same reason. How could I? You guys were killing yourselves providing for Lili and me. Worrying about the store. Worrying about putting food on the table. I didn’t need to add to your stress. ”
“What did they bully you about?” my father asks softly, as if he knows I’m ready to clam up at any moment.
“Being poor. They made fun of me mercilessly. Teased me for fun. Said they couldn’t invite me over because I’d steal their jewelry.
Day in and day out. If there was a character in a book who didn’t have much, they’d turn to me in class and ask me what it was like.
In the scheme of things, it was silly stuff.
To a twelve-year-old, though, it was terrible.
I knew you wanted me to succeed. I knew you wanted me to do well so I could help you guys out.
So I sucked it up. And by the time I got to college, I thought I was over it.
We weren’t in high school anymore. But then I came home that one weekend with my classmates.
” I chance a glance at their faces and press ahead.
“They didn’t know you owned the store. I was planning to surprise them.
And then they started laughing about it.
Making fun of the signs written in Spanglish. ”
“What jerks,” Lisa says through gritted teeth.
I wipe my eyes. “I know that now, but back then I wanted to fit in. And it felt like McGreeley was happening all over again. So I walked out without acknowledging you, and it was by far the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life, and I’ve regretted it every second since.”
Mami rounds the table, bends at the waist, and presses me against her bosom.
“You’re our daughter, and we love you. Nothing will ever change that.
We don’t need you to be perfect. And we don’t need you to pretend everything is fine.
We’re a family, and families help each other through the tough times.
They share the good and the bad. And anyway, what matters is who you are now.
You’re here. You’re helping. You’re letting us be a part of your life. ”
“Alicia, give her space to breathe,” my father tells Mami. “Your boobs are smothering her.”
I manage to laugh through the waterworks as my mother sits down again.
“Nena, you don’t have to get us out of SpaHa,” he tells me, his eyes twinkling.
“We’re comfortable here. And you know what?
We were the ones who felt guilty sending you out into the world without us.
We worried about you all the time. But you’re doing great, and that’s all we wanted.
That’s all any parent ever wants—better for their children. ”
“Thank you for being so understanding,” I say, wiping my tear-streaked face. “I promise to be more open with all of you from now on.”
“Oh yeah?” my mother asks. “Well then, let’s start with what’s going on with Jason.”
Lisa throws her head back and cackles.
“Whose side are you on?” I say, my eyes narrowing on my sister even though I’m holding back a laugh.
“There are no sides here,” Lisa says. “Only bochinche.”
I drop my chin and stare at my empty plate. “I’ll tell you everything, but I need flan first.”
My mother jumps up. “I’ll get it.” And before she rushes off, she adds, “Don’t start without me.”
I sit up, and we all exchange amused glances. Then I take a deep, cleansing breath.
“You’re a good person,” my father says, squeezing my hand. “Don’t let anyone make you feel less than.”
Here’s the truth I finally need to face: It’s me. I’m the one who’s always making me feel less than. So maybe now I can learn to give myself grace. My family has certainly shown me how.