“Washing dishes?” I ask sardonically. “That sounds like hell.”
“Hell is what you’ll experience once your savings run out and there’s nothing to feed you and my granddaughter. What is your plan?”
“I have a plan,” I say huffing out a breath. “I am going back to the city.”
“Over my dead body,” she screeches.
While she’s not aware of the particulars of my pregnancy, I did inform my mother that I had to make the same choice she did all those years ago when she had me. I know my father’s out there somewhere, but my mother thought I’d live a better life if it was far away from him. And now I’m in the exact same position as her. So she can’t be too judgmental.
The difference between my mother and I however, is that she was resolute in her decision to hide me away and raise me all on her own. While a part of me is still unsure if I did the right thing.
What if my daughter grows up to resent me for keeping her from her father? I don’t resent my mother for the choices she made. I know she did it with my best interests at heart. But some nights I lie awake wondering who my father is. All she told me was that he was someone dangerous. And that going back to him might have meant her death. But he’s also my flesh andblood. I’ve never tried to look for him and truthfully, I’ve never really needed a father.
But what if’s always run through my mind. Questions about my heritage and where I come from. I wonder if my father knows I exist. I wonder if he would care about me if he did.
Some part of me still can’t forget the night Mila was conceived. I only knew him for that small amount of time but more than a year later and it’s still burned in my heart. Logically, I know Rafaelle Vitale isn’t someone I want anywhere near my daughter.
So why does my heart still sing for him at times?
“Don’t be dramatic, mama,” I say on an eyeroll. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“I seriously doubt that, Liliana.”
I cross my arms over my chest, looking at her head on. Pretending that her lack of confidence in me doesn’t sting.
“So what? You want us to live here with you in this small house forever?”
“No one will come looking for you here,” she says stubbornly.
“It’s not sustainable,” I exhale gently. “In a couple of months, I’ll finish my courses. Once I get my degree, I’m out of here. And you can’t do anything to stop me.”
“You will not endanger my granddaughter.”
“For the love of God, mama!” I yell. When Mila’s head goes up, looking at us curiously, I quickly lower my voice, “Will you please just listen to me?”
Her eyes narrow but it’s clear she’s not going to change her mind. Not sure why I’m even bothering with an argument.When it comes to Marisol, your best option is always to act first, seek forgiveness later.
“I’m not going to be like you, mama,” I say tiredly, my expression softening. “I’m not going to cower and hide for the rest of my life. If I do that then what will happen to Mila? She’ll grow up watching her mother work herself to death doing odd jobs that will never measure up. She’ll watch me sacrifice my dreams and hopes for the future and she won’t even resent me for it. She’ll resent herself. She’ll blame herself for it because if she hadn’t been born, she knows I would have had a better life. And then she’ll try hard to give me that better life when she grows up as well. But it’s not supposed to be her responsibility,” I say softly, fighting back tears.
The pained expression on my mother’s face slices through my chest but she needs to hear this.
“I’m not going to let history repeat itself with my daughter. I have to make better choices. Maybe there’s a way for me to have it all.”
“Or you lose it all.”
“I won’t lose my daughter,” I state fiercely.
She’s all that matters.
“Oh, mi Niña,” my mother says, her voice dulling. “History’s already repeating itself and I fear none of us can stop it.”
With those words, she leaves the kitchen, heading to take a seat on the old grey couch that I’m sure will outlive me. Mila immediately crawls to her grandmother who lifts her in her arms, cradling her to her chest. I watch them for a couple of minutes, trying to find my resolution once again.
It doesn’t matter what my mother says. I have a plan and I’m going to see it through. No matter what it takes.
In a way, giving birth to Mila was exactly what gave me the strength to follow my dreams.
* * *
