“Were you still sleeping?”
“Yes. I didn’t get home until four.”
“Four in the morning? In that city? You could have been kidnapped.”
For as long as I can remember, my mother's number one fear was one of her five children getting kidnapped. We used to joke that she had so many of us so that if one or two of us actually were kidnapped, she'd have plenty of extras. This fear only intensified as we grew up and moved away. Every questionable life decision could end up as a kidnapping.
New diet:What if you get kidnapped and you aren’t strong enough to fight back?
Going to a party:Watch your drinks, because I saw on Dateline that they are drugging women’s drinks at parties so they can kidnap them.
Going on vacation:Be careful not to get kidnapped. Remember what happened to those two girls that went to Paris?She was talking about the movieTaken. It might as well have been a movie about what happens when people don't listen to their mother.
"I took a car home. I texted the driver's information to Sasha and paid him extra to wait until I made it into the house. No kidnapping."
“Well, I don’t like it. I don’t understand why you insist on working jobs like that when you could use the money you got from—”
“I don’t want that money.”
“Your father fought very hard to get you that settlement. You deserve that money. You earned it—”
“Ay, Mami. Stop. Iearnedthat money by devoting nearly half of my life to someone who could trade me in like a broken old car so he could upgrade to a newerworkingmodel. He wrote a fat check to make himself feel better.”
"You are not broken. You are strong. You are independent, and most of all, you're too proud. You won't let us help you, and you won't use your settlement. Your father and I worked very hard to make sure you kids would never have to struggle. Do you know how hard it is to watch you punish yourself like this?"
“I’m not punishing myself.” God, she was so dramatic. “I’m trying to move on with my life. Start over.”
“By moving to New York of all places? Hundreds of miles away from your family. Working ridiculous hours in a disgusting bar and trying to become a singer?”
"I went to school to become a singer. I have a degree in music, and I'm pretty talented."
“I know that, querida. You insisted on going to school to do something you’ve been doing well since you were two years old instead of something that you could actually use to make a living. I just want you to be sensible. Are you seeing your therapist regularly?”
"Yes," I whispered. "And my doctor." I refused to use a penny from my divorce settlement, and I won't accept handouts from my parents, but they insisted that I accept their health insurance. I couldn't really afford to refuse it with my condition, and it made them feel better.
“Mami, can we talk about something else?”
“Claro, mi amor.” She sighed. “Your brothers are driving me crazy as usual. August can’t come soon enough.”
I laughed in agreement. My brothers, Eric and Shawn, were a handful—two handfuls, to be exact. My parents were blessed with three girls and decided to try one more time for a boy and got two. They were the youngest of five and spoiled rotten, but they were good boys. They just turned eighteen and were headed to the University of North Carolina in Charlotte in the fall. My parents met at UNC as students, and all of their children called UNC their home after high school—except for me, of course.
“That’s because you let them get away with murder.” I chuckled.
“How was your audition?” she asked to change the subject and ignore my comment about her parenting.
"Terrible…" I began. I told her about the late-night run-in with my neighbor, making sure to let her know that I had my bat in case he tried to kidnap me.
“Is he handsome?” she asked.
"My neighbor, who was so drunk he tried to enter the wrong house and thought I was his mother?"
“Well?”
I had to think before I responded. The answer was yes. Yes, my neighbor was very handsome. He was tall and muscular with dark hair and sapphire blue eyes. He kind of reminded me of Superman—more Henry Cavill than Christopher Reeve—or the male love interest from one of Mami's books. She wanted me to start dating again so badly I wouldn't be surprised if she'd actually written him into existence.
Then I thought about what he said to me, and I instantly remembered that physical attractiveness doesn't preclude someone from being a piece of shit. My ex was a prime example of that.
"No, Ma, and I'm not interested. I have enough on my plate."
