Ofelia
I chewed my nail as I stared at my phone screen and the slew of messages I’d sent Fabián.
There’s a gala tonight. My papá is making me go.
Are you okay?
I miss you, Fabi.
They all remained unanswered.
I tried not to let the anxiety of that eat me alive, but my nails had already been bitten down to the quick. I forced myself to curl my fingers into my palms to avoid messing with them again. My papá would reprimand me for it.
I wasn’t sure I cared anymore, but if Fabián and I were going to keep up pretenses, we would both have to try hard to trick everyone around us. That meant I’d have to keep smiling. I’d have to keep being the obedient daughter my family knew me to be.
It was why I was decked up in my most extravagant dress. It was all pink tulle and a tight bodice with long, conservative sleeves that were sheer and glittery. I looked at myself in the mirror and felt like a pink swan from a child’s movie. My face was sallow, though no one would notice after I worked magic with a makeup brush. My hair was coiffed, showing off my long slender neck and the string of diamonds I wore around it. A gift from my papá.
“! It’s time to leave!”
I sighed and, after glancing one last time at my unanswered texts, placed my cell into a small handbag and hurried downstairs.
My papá and mamá were waiting, both of them elegant in their matching blue suit and ice-blue dress. My mamá smiled and nodded when she saw me, the only approval she’d give of my attire. My papá wasn’t smiling at me. In fact, I could feel the palpable tension in the air as he glared at me.
I couldn’t shake off the hurt of that. How the love I always thought was unconditional wasn’t. One thing they considered a mistake was now my most defining feature. He glared at me like he could never forgive me.
“You took too long. Mario Vicente is likely already waiting for you.”
I blinked at those words. Mario Vicente was the son of one of my papá’s board members. Why he would be waiting for me was a mystery. We’d crossed paths and mingled politely in social circles, but it had never gone beyond that.
“Why would he be waiting for me?” My head titled to the side, genuinely confused.
My papá sighed at the ceiling like I was stupid. “Because, , he’s your date tonight. Maybe even a potential suitor for your future.”
The breath felt like it’d been sucked out of my lungs. “Suitor...”
“Yes, now let’s go.”
Fabián’s face flashed in my mind. “Papá... no.” It took everything in me to get the word out. “I don’t want a suitor.”
I could see the moment his patience wore thin enough to snap. “You’ll do as I say, . Nothing else. The academy gave you way too much freedom. If you thought I’d let you ruin our reputation by fucking around with some no good piece of shit, you are mistaken. I’ve heard about you and that Raven Brother boy. You’re going to set yourself straight this instant. Starting with going out with Mario and never seeing that criminal ever again. After your recital, I’m pulling you from school so you and Mario can work on planning your wedding.”
Every word peeled off more bits and pieces of me than I could have ever imagined possible. I was hearing his words, but I didn’t want to believe a single one of them.
Tears pricked the backs of my eyelids.
The academy was my life. Dance was my life. It was the only thing I ever cared about, and he was threatening to take that away from me.
“You can’t pull me from school.” My voice sounded weak, even to my own ears. “The ballet is going to open so many doors for me–”
“The only doors you need to be worried about are the doors to reelection. Then after that, presidential elections. Everything else is moot.”
The tears streamed down my cheeks then.
He rolled his eyes at the sight of them. “Por el amor de Dios, . Deja de llorar.”
But I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to.
Dance was like breathing. It was everything to me. And he wanted me to marry Mario of all people? I hated the man on principle alone and if I couldn’t marry Fabián, then I wasn’t marrying anyone.
But I knew he wouldn’t hear me. He wouldn’t listen, because he had already made up his mind. But what other choice did I have? All my life I’d done everything he’d asked and he was expecting that from me now. I had to fight back, because I couldn’t imagine living the rest of my life in misery because I was scared in this second to speak the words I really wanted to say.
“No, I won’t do it. I’m not marrying Mario Vicente and I’m not dropping out of the academy.”
“I’ve had it up to here with your back talk, .” He stepped close. “You don’t have a choice.”
“Why? Papá, tell me why you’re doing this to me. Please.”
He stared coldly down at me. “You are my daughter,” he said simply. “I decide your future.”
The archaic words rattled something inside me. “No,” I stated firmly. “I won’t do it! You can’t make me.”
I saw his hand raise, but I didn’t register what was happening until it was too late. The slap came hard against my cheek, cracking against my skin and sending me careening to the side. I teetered on my heels and went down, landing hard on my elbow.
My face burned and the abuse made the tears freeze inside my eyes from the shock. My papá had never, ever, hit me before. No matter how angry he’d been this had never happened. My gaze slowly turned up to him and it was like a stranger had taken his place. I didn’t recognize him anymore just like I didn’t understand how we’d come to this within the lightning strike of an instant.
My cheek throbbed, but I took a breath and wiped my tears with the back of my hand. I clutched my handbag close like an anchor tethering me to the moment and stood on wobbling legs. Other than my cheek and my elbow, my body wasn’t hurt anywhere else.
I took a deep breath.
“Are you finished back talking?” my father asked.
I kept my lips pressed firmly shut. Not to give him the satisfaction, but because I didn’t trust myself to be civil right then.
“You’ve ruined her face.” My mother rounded the kitchen to stand in front of me. She gripped my chin hard in her cold hands, turning my head like a cabbage at a market. “It’s red now.”
“Put makeup on it and let’s go,” he dismissed and turned away.
Like I didn’t matter. Like he hadn’t just struck me, left me quiet and reeling.
Maybe that had been his goal all along.
Maybe I’d been naive my entire life.
Maybe the truth was my papá had never really loved me at all.
14