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“Joaquin’s mother died of a fever when he was ten. His grandfather was a rival who could never compete. We made the deal because we needed their satellite access, something he would have pulled if Felix didn’t do the right thing and marry her. A fever hit the finca. We were all ill from what killed her. His grandfather took him and never gave him back. The man died a few years ago.” His hand becomes a fist at the mention of Joaquin’s other grandfather.
“Unfortunately, Joaquin resented his father not being there. It led to a...” He shrugs. “Difficult relationship between us all. Joaquin wasn’t trained properly to take over his grandfather’s business. He made it worse by waiting until the last possible moment to reach out for help. At this point, I’ve salvaged what I can, but there isn’t much to it. Manuel doesn’t talk to or about Joaquin unless he’s bitching because Joaquin sold the access to the satellite we were using to track shipments. It’s why Manuel has spent so much time in the air for the last few years.”
“If now is a regrouping time for you, Felix, and Manuel and you’re supposed to be training him—why wasn’t Joaquin here? Even if it isn’t a training thing, this is a family time. He’s family.” I wonder if it’s things like this that left him feeling left out.
“Mija, let’s go. We’re going to be late.” My mother is fastening her watch as she walks toward me. “That’s what you’re wearing?”
I look down at the silk mint green sun dress. What’s wrong with it? “What do you mean? Go where?”
She sighs heavily. “The cake tasting. We need to go into the baker’s and pick the cake.”
“Oh no. Sorry I forgot. Is this not okay?”
My mother opens her mouth, but it’s Joe who speaks. “You look beautiful,mija.” Joe is smiling at me, yet his eyes are hard on my mother.
Mijameans my daughter, but it’s a term of endearment the way some people say sweetheart, whether they’re family or not. It’s the first time he’s called memijasince we arrived. I’m not sure why it feels like a dig at my mother.
“Yes, of course. Beautiful.” My mother isn’t ruffled easily—she is now. Joe is older than my forty-five-year-old mother by only eleven years, yet watching her wilt beneath his gaze, it’s like a child reacting to a father’s scorn.
The driver makes it clear there’s no way we’re making the appointment on time unless we take the helicopter. He makes a call, and by the time we’re back at the small landing strip where I arrived, the helicopter is on with a man in the pilot’s seat.
We’re not able to talk until we land at a helicopter pad on top of a building Manuel’s family owns in the city. A car is waiting when we reach the ground floor. In the end, we arrive ten minutes early.
Once the cake is picked out, my mother and I have a late lunch at one of the nicest restaurants in the city.
As we sit down, my mother sighs. “We say Manuel’s name, and you’d think he owns the place. Thank goodness you are marrying a man who adores you and would do anything for you.”
I shrug. “Mommy… Do you know about how Manuel doesn’t…”
“Feel emotions? Yes. I’ve heard. But people are clearly wrong. I see it when he looks at you. When he talks about you.”
“They aren’t, Mommy. He admitted it when he asked me to marry him.” I sigh as I sip the glass of champagne my mother ordered.
My mother shrugs. “Love might be an emotion,mi amor,but it’s also an action. Your father swore he loved me. I thought he loved me. I told him about my family and wanting to send them money. He said he would but always found a reason not to. If I hadn’t helped them myself with selling jewelry and other gifts your father gave me, they wouldn’t have been able to come to America. Manuel is doing everything he can to make you happy.”
She doesn’t get it.
“Nicolette, I wouldn’t believe he said it unless I heard him. You’re going to get a twenty thousand dollar allowance every month, but you aren’t to spend it on yourself. If you need a dress or the children need something, or like this lunch, you’re to use your credit cards without any limits, because he takes care of you. Whatever are you to spend your money on? It’s just going to sit there, and it’s what he wants.” Her eyes are wide in amazement.
Like always, when my mother speaks of money, it fills me with unease.
“He spent close to an hour demanding to know your favorite things so they could be here when you arrived. I’ll take your husband, who supposedly can’t feel emotion, over my husband, who told me he loved me every day.”
She doesn’t get it. “It’s not about money, Mommy. I want him to love me. I mean the clothes are gorgeous, the wedding is going to be amazing, but I’m not for sale.”
My mother throws back her head and laughs. “Ohmija, I love you. You know I do, but sometimes, I forget how young you are. We are all for sale. It’s the currency that’s in question. We give away a part of ourselves every day. It’s simply a matter of what we receive back being enough. Some women see love as money that pays for a house, cars, diamonds, all the material things. For others, their currency is their husband paying in time spent with them.”
I want to argue with her. It doesn’t feel right. “Love should be unconditional.”
Shaking her head, her chuckle is bitter. “Only for fools and children,mi amor.”
“I love you unconditionally.”
“Do you really? You’re saying if I treated you like your father treated you, you wouldn’t shrug off your husband killing me like he’s going to do your father?”
Guilt pierces me. “It’s different with him. He doesn’t care about me. It hurts to love him.”
“Exactly. Your father is aware of how it hurts you, and he doesn’t care. No one but children and fools who don’t understand how greedy and thoughtless they can be, are the only ones who deserve love without conditions. Children and fools believe they are owed all the love the person they love has to give and don’t understand how greedy they are to take without giving back. I don’t want you a wimp, willing to give everything away for anyone. With anyone—but especially your husband.” She’s firm.
