Chapter Twenty-One #2
I shake my head and laugh. “You really think I don’t know?”
“Isa, I think you’re just too caught up in trying to make something up to make yourself feel better.”
“Is that so?” I chuckle. “Then explain this.”
I dangle the photo in front of my mother’s face.
Mariposa inspects it and smiles.
“It looks like an adorable photo of you and your father. So what’s the big reveal?”
“I can’t believe you’re going to continue playing dumb. I know you know exactly why this photo is ripped.”
I see the smile slowly start to fade from her face. She reaches for the photo, but I snatch it away.
“You can’t take this one away from me, Mari. Now, look at the back.”
I turn it around and watch as the color flushes from Mariposa’s face. It is, by far, the most satisfying moment of my life.
“Sofia is my half sister, isn’t she? Rosita was my father’s true love, wasn’t she? I know everything. You can’t keep these lies from me anymore. I figured out all the clues. From her favorite arroz con leche recipe to the lock of hair from Sofia’s first haircut.”
I never did figure that out, but based on my mother’s facial expression of shock and terror, she hasn’t called my bluff for that, which means I’m right.
“Isabella, I did what I needed to do to protect you from these people. They’re liars. They only care about money, class, status, and all the nice things they buy. It’s not a real family.”
“Oh, and we are? Pot? Meet kettle. Look at you. You’re covered in all the wedding favor gifts that aren’t yours.
You showed up here in your nicest gown and even got your hair and makeup professionally done.
You’re going to sit here and say things about this family as if you’re not exactly the same. ”
“It’s not the same, Isabella. You don’t understand the pressure I’m under.”
“Pressure from who?” I shout. “No one gives a fuck what kind of designer bags you own. Only you do. You just have to prove yourself to Rosita and Maritza because they have more money. But news flash, they don’t fucking care. No one cares.”
“I care. I just wanted to live the life they did! I wanted to have nice things too, Isabella. I wanted to make good money and live a life where I could buy Chanel perfumes just because. I just wanted to fit in!”
“You don’t have to be rich to fit in with them!
If you took the time to be yourself and get to know them, you’d realize their opinions don’t matter.
And even if they care about your status, who cares?
I know I don’t anymore. I spent this entire week trying to impress them, making everyone think that I—that we—were super successful when really, no one seemed to bat an eye that I showed up in a shitty car or that I stumbled when asked about expensive things.
I even got Sofia a gift from the Coach outlet, and they all loved it.
You have a warped view of how you should be to fit in, and you’re wrong. ”
Mariposa starts pacing around the cabin, her breath growing heavier. Her mood is getting angrier.
“Isabella, you just don’t understand. You didn’t grow up with them. Maritza was the spoiled one. She got everything she wanted from her father. My father was broke and couldn’t care for my mother and me. Rosita was my best friend and made a name for herself without a man.”
“You mean the man you stole from her?” I snap.
She looks up at me, her eyes wide but her eyebrows furrowed.
“Yeah!” she screams. “That’s right. I stole Roberto! And it was the biggest mistake of my life. I wanted to take something from her for once, and he was the only thing I could take. So what!”
“So what? You ruined their relationship. You’re a homewrecker. Rosita was pregnant already, but you must have already known that, didn’t you?”
“So what if I did? She was only a few weeks along, so I knew I still had a chance. I didn’t want her to have everything while I lay in the dust. That’s how it always was with us.
And Roberto had all these dreams of being a successful and rich business owner.
I knew if I could just get him alone one night, I would be able to convince him to be with me. ”
“You’re unbelievable,” I bite out, my disbelief swelling into anger.
“You really think you could just convince him to leave her?” I pause, the pieces clicking together.
“What—did you get him drunk, Mari? Try to trap him into being with you? That’s—” My voice falters, disgust creeping in. “That’s messed up.”
I look away from her and back to the dresser, at my own reflection. Am I just the result of a bad memory? Did my father ever resent me?
“Is that what you think? That he was drunk when we had sex? Isabella, he was not drunk. He knew what he was doing. He’s not the angel you think he is. He loved both of us.”
“But he loved Rosita first. You led him on. You didn’t have to do what you did but you still did it. You took him away from who he really loved.”
“It’s not that simple. He always had a thing for me.
But getting pregnant with his child—that was the biggest mistake of my life.
Not because I didn’t care for him, but because it tied me to this small life.
I thought we’d have more. More success, more money.
I wanted to be like the rest of the family—wealthy, powerful.
Instead, I got stuck in a modest restaurant, stuck with responsibilities I never wanted.
And now look at me—I’ll never catch up to them. ”
“You ran to his mother to tell her before Rosita could, and that’s when you got married. You thought you’d won, right?”
“I did! I beat her to the punch!”
“Do you hear yourself? Your pregnancy was a mistake? My father was a mistake? Wow, we really did ruin your amazing, perfect, potentially prosperous life, didn’t we?” I scoff.
“Maybe you did! What’s so wrong with me admitting that for once in my life? This isn’t the life I wanted. I didn’t want to struggle with one little restaurant. I’m grateful it’s doing well enough, but this isn’t enough.”
Suddenly, I’m fuming. I snap around and walk toward her until I’m inches away.
“The restaurant isn’t doing well. We’re three months past due on rent. The restaurant is fucking failing. It’s been slowly failing for years. Not that you fucking cared even to check.”
“What? What do you mean?” Mariposa says, panicked.
“You heard me. The one thing you thought you had that proved your success? It’s not real. Just like the rest of you. I came here hoping to get an investment with Luciano to save the restaurant and buy it from you so it could be under my name instead.”
“Why would you do that? And why would you lie to me about the restaurant?”
“So I can get the fuck away from you. What don’t you get?
You were never there for me growing up. Roberto was.
You just showed up when you wanted to show off something new you bought yourself.
Then I grew up and became responsible for making sure you looked successful, buying you nice things, and lying to you about the restaurant so you could gloat to your friends.
And here I was, spending this entire week trying to convince the whole family we were doing great so that you could feel proud of me that I managed to do that.
But even that wouldn’t have been enough for you. So now you know the truth.”
“You think you’re better than me, Isa? No. You’re exactly like me. You buy yourself designer things all the time just to put up a facade around people. Look at you now! Wearing this fancy dress and trying to play a part.” She laughs. “You’re just like your mother.”
“You’re right. I was. Not anymore. And all these designer things I bought myself?
Fake. Every single one of them. So yeah, am I a fraud?
The biggest one. I lied to you, to the whole family, and myself.
I lied to you about the restaurant and our success.
I lied to the family about how well we were doing.
And most importantly, I lied to myself that I needed to be this type of person to be accepted.
Someone important to me has taught me that I would rather be with someone who loves me for who I am and not what I have.
Something you never understood about Roberto—but I do.
So you need to leave because I’m not going anywhere. ”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” I seethe.
“You can’t talk to your mother that way, Isabella.”
I start to steer her toward the door, but she resists.
“You’re right. That’s not the way to talk to your mother. But you were never a real mother to me, so I guess we’re even.”
“Stop pushing me! I can leave on my own.” She shakes me off her and turns around to face me.
“Leave,” I say between clenched teeth.
“You’re making a huge mistake, Isabella. These people are not going to accept you. They never accepted me. What makes you think you’re so special?”
“Because, unlike you, I will come forward with the truth and be myself for once. The real Isabella. Not the one who buys fake designer wallets while being months behind on rent because she’s too busy trying to keep her mother happy with material objects.”
“I should have let Roberto dance with Sofia at the quinceanera and left him there with you. I should have just run away and never come back.”
“That’s what the big fight was about? You didn’t want him to dance with Sofia for the father-daughter dance?”
“Of course not, Isabella. What would people have thought? There would have been so many questions and judgment.”
I can’t help but laugh.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Even now, you’re still worried about what people may have thought if they saw that happen.
You’re vapid, and I hope one day you grow up out of this.
You may be my mother, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get to tell you the truth about how crappy of a mother you were.
I’m done. I’m done with the guilt, the shame, and the pressure that it is to be your daughter.
The restaurant will close, and that’s my last memory of my father.
You’ll have to figure out what you’ll do next because I have my own problems once that’s all done. Now, please leave. I have a lot to do.”
As my mother opens the cabin door, I walk outside with her and stand on the porch.
“Oh, by the way,” I start.
She turns around, and I snatch my father’s journal directly out of her arms.
“This is my fucking journal now. It always was, and you hated that. You knew I’d figure out the truth, and you’d lose your control over me.”
“Isabella, I didn’t want it to come to this.”
“I know you didn’t. You wanted to continue living your lavish lifestyle and keeping me under your thumb. Well, it’s over. It’s finally over. I’m done being a fraud. You, on the other hand, can do whatever you want.”
“I’m not a fraud, Isa. Everything I have is real. Everything I have done is real,” she insists as she walks away.
“Oh, Mom?” I call out.
She turns around again, seemingly annoyed, which only makes me smile. I look down at the black Prada bag I bought her.
“That Prada bag I bought you? The one you show off to everyone you know as the highlight of your daughter’s life for you?”
Mari looks down at the bag and then back at me.
“It’s a fucking fake.”