Chapter 52
Chapter Fifty-Two
KAMILA
Saturday
T he smell of Mom’s food greets me as I walk into my house for the first time in weeks. I hang my jacket up and roll my suitcase into the dining room to find her making what seems to be pasta. Concern washes over me. My mom adores cooking. She particularly enjoys making complicated or detailed dishes. Whenever she makes something simple like pasta, she’s either overly exhausted or highly stressed.
She looks up from the counter and walks to me with her arms wide open.
“ Hola, mi nina hermosa. ?Cómo estás? ?Ya Emma y el papá se fueron?” Hello, my beautiful girl. How are you? Did Emma and her dad leave already?
“ Hola, mamá. Sí, ya se fueron. ” Hi, Mom. Yes, they already left. “Their flight is tomorrow morning, so they couldn’t stick around.”
Em and her family are off to their yearly trip to Aspen for Christmas and will be back in time for New Year’s Eve. We drove here in her dad’s new Audi SUV, which was one of the coolest cars I’ve ever been in, excluding Jake’s BMW. Whenever Em and her family offer to drive me here, it’s an automatic yes, especially if it’s her father. He’s been nothing short of an amazing dad to Emma and has treated me like family since I became friends with her.
Mom gives me one last squeeze before letting go to head back to the kitchen. “Make sure to thank Paul for the ride from both of us.”
“Already told him.”
Footsteps sound down the stairs, and my shoulders stiffen. Then I remember that Ana has been staying at a friend’s house for the past few weeks since our mom tried talking to her about what happened at Driscoll. She knows about everything that went down that night, except for David becoming physical. There was no need to add more bad news to an already stressful phone call with her being two hours away from me.
She offered family therapy as an option to all of us in order to communicate our feelings properly and fix our issues the right way. Everyone agreed, except for Ana, of course. My sister got pissed, told Mom she always takes my side and ran off. Thankfully, Mom knows she’s safe through Ana’s friend. It was just further proof of how manipulative she is.
Rafael gives me a quick hug. “Hey, Kami, how’s it going?”
We all make small talk while we eat dinner in the dining room. They ask me about school, amongst other mundane things, and I know my mom is eager to get me alone and ask me more about Ana. I, on the other hand, want her insight on something, or should I say someone else.
After about an hour, Rafael kicks us out of the dining room so that he can wash the dishes. I’d stick around to help if it wasn’t for Mom running my suitcase up the stairs and yelling at me to follow her. She sits on my bed as I start to unpack.
“Come talk to me, Kamila.” She pats the comforter, and I can’t help but notice my high school logo in the middle. The bedspread is a dark green with a white and black crest, just like the colors of my old cheerleading uniform.
“Any day now, Kamila.” Mom catches my attention again as I sit in front of her. I’m excited to ask for her advice on a boy. I’ve never had a reason to until now. It was only ever advice on her end about safe sex but never about feelings.
As I’m about to open my mouth to start talking about Cam, she beats me to the punch.
“Have you spoken to Ana lately?”
I let out a heavy sigh. This isn’t what I wanted to talk about tonight, yet I should’ve known it was coming.
“No, I haven’t, and I honestly don’t plan to any time soon.”
She nods. “I understand your anger and frustration. Ana has a lot of personal issues she needs to take care of, but you can’t let this sever your relationship the way it has.”
I look at her in disbelief. “Mom, she lied to me for two years?—”
“I know she did. She lied to all of us. I feel terrible for what I said to Cameron back then and plan to apologize. I also understand if you need time and space, but I want my daughters to be okay.” Her eyes turn misty. “She won’t be here for the holidays.” I let out a small breath of relief at that last statement. It’s barely audible, and thankfully, Mom doesn’t hear it. “I just need you both to fix this. Ana really does love you, Kamila.”
Not so sure she’s ever loved anyone.
Mom holds onto my hand and wipes away tears with the other. It hits me there and then that she hasn’t come to the same terms that I have. My twin sister is a narcissist. At least I’m ninety-nine percent sure she is from all the research I did the past week. Comparing all of her past and present behavior proved it. Of course, none of us will know for sure until Ana sees a professional.
Although it was “easy” for me to accept this about my sister after everything I experienced that day, it’s not the same for my mother. Nora Morales is far from stupid, nevertheless, we’re still her children, and it can’t be as simple for her to see one of her daughters for what she truly is.
Even though Ana manipulated me for years, sometimes for the tiniest things in order to make herself look better, Mom doesn’t need to know all of that. I don’t want to make her feel worse than she already does, especially around the holidays. So, I do what I need to since I’m not seeing Ana any time soon. I lie.
“I understand what you’re feeling, Mom. Still, I need time and space to think about things before speaking to her. We will be okay again.”
That’s all I can say for now, and luckily, it seems to satisfy her.
“Thank you.” She smiles proudly at me, and I return the sentiment, feeling terrible that she’s in the middle of all this. “Do you need help unpacking?”
Gently, I stand to stop her from getting to my suitcase. “It’s fine, Mom. I’ll unpack tomorrow and rest tonight. Finals wore me out.”
In reality, I want to be alone. All I wanted was to have a normal conversation with my mom about a boy I like and how to go about it, yet somehow, even without her being here, Ana got in the way of that.
She looks at me, concern filling her eyes. She hesitates before hugging me goodnight and shuts the door behind her.
After changing, I lay on my bed and unfold the card that was slipped under my dorm room door earlier this morning.
Kamila,
I’m not really sure what to write today. So many of the things I feel were within those lyrics of the songs played yesterday.
I’m not so secretly hoping your kiss means you’re close to forgiving me. It felt amazing to hold you and be near you again, I thought I was dreaming at first…
Fuck it. I miss you like crazy. I miss you so much it hurts. I promised myself I wouldn’t say things like this until you forgave me, but here I am saying them because I’ve never needed or wanted anything or anyone like I do you.
There is so much more I want to say but it has to be in person. I know you said we would see each other after winter break, but I can’t wait that long. I’ll drive anywhere you need me to. Just please, baby, give us a real chance.
Love always and forever,
Cameron
There wasn’t a P.S. today; the card didn’t need it. The message was clear. All I have to do is decide when I want to see him.
A lot easier said than done.
The hope I had of my mom giving me some sort of wise insight dies down completely. That isn’t going to happen anytime soon.
As for my friends, Jake is on another continent where it’s currently the middle of the night, Em’s phone is off, and Levi goes to bed early the day before Christmas Eve due to his job back home.
Levi’s words come back to me. You don’t need my advice anymore, or Jake’s or Em’s.
He was right then and still is. It’s time to trust myself and my gut. I close my eyes, picturing the starry night, sending a prayer that I’ll make the right choice.
Sunday/Christmas Eve
My alarm goes off at nine-thirty in the morning. It’s Christmas Eve, meaning my family is coming in and that my mom is probably already cooking. Most people from South America celebrate Christmas like they do here, but on Christmas Eve. We usually have dinner, dance, play games, and then open presents around midnight. On Christmas Day, we clean up, eat leftovers, and watch movies. It’s my favorite holiday of the year, and even though nobody from overseas is coming, there will still be about a dozen guests. It’s the first year my sister won’t be celebrating it with us. Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do if she was planning on coming.
My Christmas pajamas are folded in my bottom drawer like they are every year. Taking a moment to look them over, I decide to go with the black silk pants and matching buttoned-up shirt that are covered with cartoon gingerbread men. Quickly, I brush my hair into a high pony, looking like less of a hot mess, and wiggle my feet into the reindeer slippers.
Downstairs, Rafael opens the front door to leave when he spots me coming down the stairs.
“Nice PJs.” He looks amused because even though I’m twenty, I’ve worn these kinds of PJs on Christmas Eve for as long as I can remember. The first one I wore in front of Rafael was an elf onesie.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“Well, we kind of cheated this year and I paid my friend to make twenty Hallacas for the family. He needs me to run there now before his wife catches us making the exchange.”
“They won’t be as good as yours, Raf.” I pat him on the shoulder, disappointed.
He snorts. “Damn straight.”
I roll my eyes and meet Mom in the kitchen, where she’s prepping multiple dishes with merengue playing from the small speaker I got for her last year. She lowers her glasses when I clear my throat.
“You look more and more ridiculous in those every year.”
Scoffing, feigning my surprise, I put a hand to my chest. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re just jealous of how amazing I look.”
She pushes her glasses back in place. “Mhm, sure. Ready to get your hands dirty?”
“Let’s do this.”
One p.m. hits and Mom and I have prepped everything including dessert. Meanwhile Rafael is decorating the fold-out table in the dining room that we use when we have more than six people coming to the house.
The traditional Colombian dish served on Christmas is called lechona , which is basically a whole stuffed pig. My mom might have grown up there, but she has her limits, and one of them is having a whole roasted pig in the middle of her table. So instead, just like she does with Thanksgiving, she makes a mix of traditional foods from this country, hers and Rafael’s.
Finishing the final touches on my pies, I put two platters of natilla into the fridge, that way they’ll be ready by the time everyone arrives. Looking around the kitchen, I see that this year is no exception to the others; there’s way too much food. However, since my stepdad’s nephews are coming, there shouldn’t be too many leftovers.
“Alright, everybody should be getting here around 4 p.m. and dinner will be done by six.” She squints. “Hopefully.” We smile at each other. “ Anda a banarte y lavate el pelo. Siempre te tardas dos horas alistándote y no quiero que estés en tu cuarto cuando llegue todo el mundo. ” Go, take a shower, and wash your hair. You always take two hours to get ready, and I don’t want you in your room when everyone gets here.
I look down at my apron to find that it’s covered in flour and splatters of the multiple sauces we made. “Yeah, I need to shower.”
At least my PJs aren’t too dirty and my slippers managed to stay mostly clean. While strolling past the mirror in the dining room, I do a double take and stop dead in my tracks. There’s flour on my face and in my hair as well. It looks like I snorted a line of coke and decided to roll in it after.
“Shit, the flour’s going to get all cakey in the shower.”
“Just go get it out of your hair and make sure to clean the drain afterward.” She shoos me away.
A small grunt comes out while I make my way towards the stairs. My feet come to a halt halfway up, when I hear the front door open and see Ana standing near the kitchen.
“Ana,” our mom says, surprised.
My sister doesn’t take her eyes off mine. She doesn’t look angry, in fact she looks indifferent.
Do I run up the stairs or back down them to stay near my mom before Ana throws another tantrum?
She breaks eye contact with me and looks to our mom. “Hey, Ma.”
Mom stays quiet for a long moment, and then she explodes. “Why the hell did you leave the house the way you did, huh? You weren’t answering your phone, and I didn’t know where you were for hours. I thought something had happened to you, and I almost called the cops till I finally tracked you down.” She points a finger at her. “No matter what happens between us or between you and your sister, you can never run out on me like that again. You might be twenty, but you still live under my roof. I still pay your bills, and you will listen to me, goddammit.” My mom chokes on the last two words.
Making my decision, I run down the stairs and put an arm around my mother. She’s tearing up, even though she hasn’t let one of them drop. She’s angry. More than that, she’s hurt that her daughter, my sister, would treat her this way .
“What the hell are you doing here?” I grit out to Ana, my rage growing after seeing how affected our mom is.
She has the audacity to roll her eyes at us. “I thought I would come over and apologize to Mom for my behavior and to you for everything. I didn’t want to miss Christmas with you guys.”
Right on cue, her eyes soften like they always do before she apologizes. I know better than to believe her half-assed sorry’s now.
“I’m so sorry, Mom, please let me celebrate the holidays with my family.”
It’s there that I notice she has her duffle bag with her, and I speak up. “Did you really come to apologize?”
“Well, yeah, why would I lie about that?” She tries to keep her face calm, but I can see through the bullshit she’s spewing.
“Let your sister speak, Kamila,” Mom says next to me, but I ignore her.
“Couldn’t find another place to stay because Shaina kicked you out?”
Ana scoffs. “Of course not. Shaina loves me?—”
“Cut the bullshit, Ana?—”
“Language,” Mom says loudly.
“Fine. Shaina did kick me out, but that’s not the reason I came here.”
She slowly makes her way to me and takes my hand. I flinch at the contact, remembering how violent she was not too long ago. Ana’s mouth quirks up, giving me the same smile I’ve been seeing for years. The one she used on me, our teachers, our family, and on Cameron whenever she tried to get out of trouble. It was never genuine, it was always for show. If she really wanted to fix things between us, she would have taken Mom’s offer up on family counseling, but this is all about her.
It’s always been about her.
How to make herself look good in front of our mother so she can move back in. How to get back into my life to manipulate me again, and sure as shit, the next words that come out of her mouth prove it.
“You know I’d never hurt you on purpose, Kami. I regret what I did. You don’t know how my relationship with Cameron was back then. I felt lonely. And I’m sorry that you feel like you can’t forgive me for what happened over two and a half years ago. I do hope you are able to accept my apology now.”
Ana continues to keep that hopeful smile up. That is until the laugh I’ve been holding back comes out as a snort.
“What’s so funny?” She quickly lets go of me and I see a flash of annoyance on her face till she puts her mask back on, feigning hurt. “I’m trying to apologize to you?—”
I laugh even louder, cutting her off. “Oh my God. I can’t believe I ever bought your shitty ass lies.”
“I’m not lying. I’m being sincere to you and our mother. You’re acting like a selfish bitch.”
“Language!” Mom yells again.
At the word selfish, I immediately sober and get close enough to my sister so only she can hear me.
“You think you can try and come back into my life so you can continue manipulating me for your own benefit and insecurities? To make yourself look good in front of our parents so you can use them for housing and food? Fat fucking chance, hermana. I see you for who you really are now, and unless you get help, there’s no fixing this.”
Finally, I turn towards Mom whose lips are pressed together.
“Of course, you can spend Christmas with us,” she finally says. “But no funny business.”
I look at my mother in disbelief. Those were the last words I expected her to say. The breakfast I ate two hours ago churns in my stomach.
“You can’t be serious?—”
“Kamila, enough. I want both my daughters here for Christmas, and that’s final. Ana and I can talk about our issues another day. ”
My mouth opens and closes again. She really doesn’t see it. Nora Morales doesn’t see her own daughter’s bullshit lies, or at least won’t bring herself to think about Ana that way.
She might be able to get through today because we’re her daughters, but I sure as hell can’t pretend that everything is fine.
“I’m not spending Christmas here with her.”
Ana’s sigh echoes in the silent room, and my mother’s face falls. “What does that mean, Kamila?”
“It means that I’m no longer speaking to her until she gets the help she needs. And Ana needs a lot of it. She needs a proper diagnosis, and until that happens, I no longer consider her my sister after all these years of manipulation. You might not see it now, Mom, but one day you will.”
“Kamila, let’s not be harsh?—”
Throwing my hands up, I raise my voice, tired of being the one who takes the brunt of everything.
“No, Mom, I have won the right to be harsh. I understand that she’s your daughter and it’s your business what you decide to do in your home, but you have to accept the fact that not everything is going to be peaceful between her and I. There won’t be any screaming or tantrums on my end. Still, that doesn’t mean I’m going to let her get into my head again. It’s not healthy for any of us.”
Hugging my mom, I whisper everything I’ve wanted to say. “I hope that you’re able to talk to her about everything. You know she needs help. Only Ana can decide if she wants it. Right now, she has no reason to think she needs it because she’s so comfortable and has everything she needs plus more, but you already know that. You decide what happens next. Te amo, Mamá, pero no puedo pasar Navidad con ella. Espero que puedas entender. Perdóname .” I love you, Mom, but I can’t spend Christmas with her. I hope you understand. Forgive me.
She squeezes me harder when I struggle to escape her hold. After a couple of seconds, she lets me go, and I run to the front door. Grabbing my mother’s car keys and my jacket, I sprint out to unlock her Nissan she’s had since I was fourteen.
“What the heck are you doing, Kamila?” Rafael yells from somewhere behind me.
Opening the door, I spot him and my mom trying to run to the car. I speed out of the driveway before they can reach me.
I’m driving past houses I’ve been seeing for years not knowing where the hell I’m going because everyone I’m close to is too far away. All I know is that I need to get out of this town before Rafael tracks me down. I realize then that the gas pedal feels odd against my foot and remember that I’m still in my PJs and big slippers.
“Yeah, you really thought this through well, didn’t you, Kamila?”
Hitting the steering wheel out of frustration, a billboard that has a familiar last name written in big, bold letters catches my attention. Finally, I call the one person who can help me find what I need.
“Hey, Kami. What’s up? Make it quick because I’m headed out to dinner. Remember that it’s late here, and my father will throw a fit if I’m not there on time.”
“Yeah, I know, you go to Saint Tropez almost every year, good for you.”
“Well fuck. Somebody’s touchy,” Jake says, clearly surprised at my rudeness.
“Sorry, it’s been a long day,” I say impatiently.
The sound of a door shutting fills the speaker. “Are you okay?”
“A story for another time. Listen, I need a small favor…”