Dread curdled in Cleo’s stomach. It would be the first time she tried to skirt that last question. She’d slipped in English, and but for the excellence of Lincoln’s piece of the project, she might even have slipped lower. She winced. Maybe she couldn’t have it all, the fun and the high grades. Maybe she could only have one, an either or kinda deal, and if that were the case, it wasn’t a choice for her: school would always win out.
“Es importante que personas como nosotros consigamos buenos trabajos…”
It’s important for people like us to get good jobs.
“Sí mamá. Lo sé.”
Cleo sighed. What mamá wasn’t saying out loud was that she didn’t want Cleo to have the sametypeof job that herabueloshad. Cleo’s grandfather was a gardener and her grandmother was a cleaner.
To mamá, this wasn’t enough. She wanted Cleo to do more, tobemore. But she never seemed to care about what made Cleohappy. Just what sheshoulddo as a Latin American woman.
If mamá ever asked, she’d know that Cleo was fiercely proud of her grandparents. No one could landscape or get plants to grow quite like her abuelo. She hadn’t inherited his green thumb, but she’d been so jealous of how it seemed he could talk to plants and get them to bloom bigger and more vibrant than she’d ever seen.
And so what ifyayahad been a cleaner? Cleo had never met a happier woman. She often had captivating stories to tell about her clients, and they always treated her with kindness and respect. Right before she died, yaya told her,persigue tus sueños, nieta mía.
Chase your dreams.
So Cleo did. She got into a good school to do what she’d always thought she wanted, become a professor.
Just like mamá.
The longer she was in college, and if she was honest with herself, the more she spoke to Mr. Darcy, the more she wondered. Was she really chasing her own dreams? Or at some point along the way had her mother’s dreams become hers? What would her own dreams be if her mom had no influence over her choices?
That was where she’d stop. Going down the path of ‘shoulda, coulda, woulda’ was as dangerous as it was fruitless. What did it matter what her dreams might have been? Teaching was her dream and she needed to work hard to ensure it happened.
Her mother was still talking. “Sólo queremos lo mejor para ti, Cleo.”We only want what’s best for you, Cleo.
An unexpected barb of bitterness curled in her stomach. “Mom, I have to go, I’ll talk to you next week, okay? Te amo.”
She didn’t wait for a response before pressing the button to hang up and throwing her phone onto the bed. Hot, angry tears streamed down her face as she slid onto the floor next to the bed. She dropped her face into her hands and tugged on her hair with a frustrated growl.
A month ago, everything was fine. A month ago, she had no men in her life, and her eye on the prize. But she’d somehow let Mr. Darcy get in her head, and Lincoln-fucking-Scott under her skin.
How had this happened? And how could she make it un-happen? She ground the heels of her hands into her eyes.
She needed to refocus, to stay the course.
Everyone’s parents were full on. Mr. Darcy’s parents had no idea he liked to draw. They were controlling too. It was just parents being parental, right? And wasn’t that the whole point of college? For shiny, new and interesting things to pop up and try to distract you from what you really wanted out of life?
She wanted to be a professor of English. Shedid. Lots of kids wanted to be like their parents when they grew up, it was normal to follow in the footsteps of those you were closest to.
It was also customary to question your life choices every now and then. At least that’s what she told herself as she dragged herself from the floor and dusted off.
And even if she did want to dip her toe further into having more fun, Mr. Darcy didn’t want to meet her, and most days, she couldn’t blame him.
***
“Normal. How can it be normal?” Molly pulled the thermometer away from Cleo’s forehead, turning it so she could see the result. “You’re not sick. Okay. Sure. Fine. Whatever. Uh… abducted by aliens? Temporary insanity?” She grabbed Cleo by the shoulders and shook. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”
Cleo laughed, but she had no answer for her.
“Cleopatra Isabella Martinez doesn’t just go around kissing jocks in front of the whole damn school!”
Cleo shrugged, idly touching her lips as though she could still feel the scorch of the best kiss of her life lingering there.
“Oh girl. You not only kissed him, youliked it!It was hot, right? Lincoln Scott has that look about him. Like he could make a party in your lady pants with even a peck. Was it a peck?”
Cleo stiffened.
