Chapter 9 Leave Me Alone
NINE
Leave Me Alone
My bi-weekly ritual of pampering with Mei arrived the next day, and I needed every treatment on the list, full-body massage included.
She usually settled for a simple nail appointment, but I convinced her to let me treat her.
Once the staff eased every knot from our bodies, we sat together for manicures.
Sinking into the plush chair with my hands soaking and my limbs still humming from the massage, I was completely content.
"All morning I've avoided the B-word," Mei began, and just like that, a very expensive massage was useless.
"Can we not do this now?"
"So, we don't talk about Bruno again?"
Leaning my head to the side, I glared at her.
"Fine. I won't say anything. I'm not Demetria, who thinks you should forgive him, or Olivia, who believes murdering him is the only course you should take. I'm just here if you want to talk, but keeping it in—"
"OK. We spoke. He's sorry. I'm not taking him back," I cut in, hoping she'd shut up.
I lowered my voice. The place wasn't quiet, but my nail tech leaned closer like the gossip might be worth her tip.
We came to this spa often, and I did not need their employees knowing anything about my private life.
"You still love him, huh?"
I took a deep breath. "That doesn't matter. I will not be one of those women who do foolish things because she's in love."
My friend squinted and never took her eyes off me.
"I just can't do it."
Mei looked even more confused. "Do what?"
"Become the woman who forgives infidelity. I swore for years I would never be my mother."
"So, you'd rather punish yourself than be labeled?"
"I've talked…no, we've talked a lot of shit about the women who forgive cheating bastards and take them back."
She didn't speak, just looked at me for a bit. "Girl, this sounds like something a therapist should hear."
"Who, me?"
Mei made an act of looking around the room. "Yes, you."
I chuckled and waved her off, but deep down her words hit a note with me. Bruno called me stubborn, said I was torturing us both. Demetria said I was a fool. Why was I doing this?
Today was huge. Between the launch party and my parents' arrival, my nerves were shot.
I needed that lunchtime massage more than ever.
Here I was, a grown woman, living in another country on my own and starting a business, yet I was getting nervous because my parents were on their way over to dissect my life.
The urge to get a glass of wine came over me, but my father would smell it on my breath and judge.
So instead, I ran around the apartment, searching for places where my cleaning lady might've overlooked.
The doorbell cut through my condo like a warning alarm.
I flinched at the sound and noticed my pulse racing like it had something to fear.
Taking a deep breath, I hurried and opened the door. "Madre. Padre. Welcome."
"Don't you have to let us in to welcome us?" my father asked.
A few years had passed since I'd last seen him, but his usual unimpressed expression was exactly as I remembered. In truth, nothing much had changed. Padre stood tall, his belly straining his shirt, an expensive watch on his wrist, and a wallet bulging through his pocket.
I moved aside to let them in. When they did, I closed the door, inhaled slowly, and faced the judge and jury.
"Alexandra, you look good," Madre said.
She did too, though she carried a little more weight than she preferred. Her black bob was perfectly shaped, her fur coat and diamonds on full display.
Madre pulled me into her arms, firm and grounding, the kind of embrace that brought a small wave of guilt for how long I had kept my distance. I stayed pressed against her, surrounded by the scent I had known my whole life.
She really believed in a signature fragrance.
Since I was a child she'd been wearing Chanel No.
5. When she released me, Mother studied me for a bit, but my eyes roamed over to Father.
I watched as he wandered through the condo, lifting papers, peeking behind closed doors, even pressing his face to the window like he expected to find something waiting outside.
Padre didn't say what he was looking for.
His brows drew together. I rolled my eyes.
"It has walls. Ceilings. Everything a home needs," I said in his direction, hoping to lighten the mood.
Madre smiled.
"It has no man. How can you say this is everything you need?"
"Wow, that was quick," I said, checking my watch to see the timing of the first insult.
"Tomás, you promised."
I chuckled. After all these years, she still believed every word he said.
"Jessica, what did I say wrong? Your daughter has set up house alone. Where does a man fit into her life? There's no room for him."
Fuck it.
"I'm pouring a glass of wine. Anyone want?"
My mother looked ready to faint. "Wine at this time? It's barely three."
"If Padre is going to dismiss everything I've built, I'm not listening without wine."
"Oh great, on top of everything, she's an alcoholic too," my father exclaimed.
A flicker of worry flashed in Mother's eyes as she looked from me to him, then back again. "No? Are you?"
"Yes," I lied, then walked to the kitchen to pour a glass.
Alone briefly, I rested my hands on the counter, took a slow breath through my nose, and let it out in a shaky exhale.
"You can do this. It's only a day trip. They're leaving for his business meeting tomorrow.
It's just one day. Not even a full twenty-four hours in my face if you count the time they'll spend sleeping after the party. "
"Alexandra. If you can pry yourself away from the bottle, let's continue our chat."
I uncorked the bottle, lifted it to my mouth, and took a swig. Screw the glass. With Padre around, I'd need to be numb.
We sat for three hours. My father was silent at first while I presented my plan for life and my business. The last time I did this I was pitching investors for Amoré Nights. My mother's face showed she understood my business plan. Yet, her face wrinkled when I moved on to the personal stuff.
"I want to be single for a while. Get to know myself before I become someone's wife."
When that got confusing looks, I tried a bit of what Mei said. "I was even thinking of doing some therapy, get to the root of who Alexandra Ortega is."
That was when my father's silent streak ended. "This is what I paid good money to send you to school for."
Tilting my head, I stared ahead, waiting for an explanation.
"She has lived twenty-four years but does not know who she is. Before she left Spain, your daughter already knew her name. Since then, that's all she still has."
"Therapy?" my mother said. That seemed to be the part that troubled her most.
"Yes, in this country, many people go to therapy. To talk and better themselves."
"Get married. Have children. That will fix everything," Padre said as he pushed me right to my breaking point.
"Santiago and Danny let you dictate their lives. Look at what it got them. I'll be making my own decisions." It was as if my words lit a match in a room covered in gasoline. Padre narrowed his eyes so much they were nearly closed.
"Your brothers had a long rope, and that is how they ended up the way they are. You won't get the same chance to embarrass me."
"Therapy? Like tell your business to a stranger?" Mother mumbled.
She was getting on my nerves, and I snapped. "Yes. Believe it or not, normal people do not wake their daughters in the middle of the night to tell them their father is out with some girlfriend."
Silence.
"Do not push me to anger."
I shook my head at my father's warning. What did I have to be scared of? What power did he think he still had? The only thing he held over me was money.
"Maybe it was a mistake we came," Mother said, instead of telling him to settle down.
"It was a mistake to have her," he said and stood.
I froze. Everything started to feel far away, like I was underwater. A mistake. Me? I didn't do anything wrong but always got it the hardest from him. I was the one he wished wasn't born. In that moment, I knew where my problems with men originated. All my life I felt unwanted and ignored by him.
"The only reason anyone puts up with you is the money you hold over our heads. Not me. I'm freeing myself from your control."
"Alexandra, don't speak to your father like that."
I looked at her in disgust.
"You are the worst one of us all. You have let him treat you like trash for years. For what, the lifestyle he finances? Does that money outweigh your dignity, Mother? It is not worth mine."
Madre's eyes widened. "Is that really what you believe? That I love the money and not your father?"
"How could you possibly love a man who treats you like that?"
"You ungrateful bitch!" Padre roared.
I wasn't done. "Don't leave me anything in your will. I'll make a path for myself. If you want, I'll gladly return my trust fund. I don't want anything else from you."
Mother shook her head so hard you couldn't miss her disapproval. "You cannot be the daughter I raised."
To me that sounded like a good thing. For years, I'd dreamed of having different parents. I was this close to sharing that fact when Padre stood.
"Fine with me. Don't even waste your time coming to my funeral when you find out I'm dead."
I won't lie, that stung. Maybe what I said was also too strong, but it was out, and one thing I got from my father in large doses was stubbornness. I wasn't backing down.
As he gathered Mother, the phone in the kitchen buzzed. It must have been the doorman alerting me the cook was here. The one who was supposed to make us a delicious lunch.
Father pulled Mother toward the door.
"You never stood up for yourself, makes sense you'd never do it for me."
Mother dragged her hand out of Padre's grasp and turned back to face me. "One day you'll grow up and see not everything is black and white. Until then, enjoy being alone."