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She doesn’t say anything, but she smiles and nods as she wraps her arms around me.
“As far as my downfalls go…” I let out a laugh. “Well, how much time do you have?”
She pulls back from me, and I brush a stray strand of hair from her face. “I wish you’d see yourself how other people see you sometimes. You can be arrogant as hell when you want to, but deep down,” she slides one finger from my jaw, slowly down my chest and to my cock, “deep down, I think you question a lot about yourself. And you shouldn’t, B.” She straddles me and I grow hard in her hand as she kisses a trail down my neck. This woman is going to be the fucking death of me. I allow myself to sink farther down in the tub, succumbing to her.
Thirty-One
Isla
Vagary (n.) an unpredictable instance.
___________
“Yes, I know,” my mom says into the phone. “Yes. I know. I feel the same way.” She looks annoyed. “Okay, yes. I understand. Trust me. I know.”
Mom’s quiet for a moment before I see an incredibly displeasing look spread across her face. “You have no right to speak like that about my daughter, you hear me? This conversation is over.
My mom ends the call and tosses her phone onto the table, running her fingers through her hair, visibly distressed.
“Ay, that woman!” she yells at Veronica, my father, and I, who sit around the table anxiously awaiting her to explain what just happened. Manuel’s mother called, and I don’t think my mom got a word in for the first ten minutes of the conversation, but she sure as hell finished strongly. I’m proud of my mami.
“Tell me everything!” Veronica squeals, apparently finding enjoyment in this shit show. “What did she say?”
“That woman thinks that if Isla hadn’t gone to the party, Emilia and Manny would be in Punta Cana on their honeymoon right now. It’s not Isla’s fault that Manuel messed things up and rushed things with that girl. They begged Isla to go to that damn wedding, and now they want to blame her for Manuel being an idiot? Blame my daughter for their son trying to assault my child? Y le remperé la cara if I ever see her. Y se acabo!”
She starts crying and my dad wraps her in his arms, comforting her as she shakes. I feel myself get emotional, too, from all of it. None of it should have happened. I go over to where my mom and dad sit and put my hand on her knee. “I’m so sorry, Mami.”
I knew that all the Manuel drama would follow us home, that it wouldn’t stay tucked away in that little town forever. Half of me wants to call his mother back and scream at her for making my mom feel like this, but the other half of me knows that will make it worse on her. Manuel’s parents think he’s a fucking Godsend. I’d love to deliver them the security footage from that bar so they can see just how different their little boy is when he’s not living to impress them.
My mom pats my back, still crying. I put my head in my hands as Veronica says, “Well, damn! This is really going to divide the families, isn’t it? You’ve been friends for a long time, since we were all kids. I guess it was about time for something dramatic to happen.” She tries to make light of the situation—it’s her way of deescalating any situation—and I look up just in time to see Mami roll her eyes. “You love the telenovelas, mama. You’ve been preparing your entire life for this.”
“Veronica,” Dad scolds. He turns to me and places his hands over mine. “You did nothing wrong, honey. So don’t think for one minute that you have any of this blame. Manuel’s parents just don’t want to believe their son is the monster he really is.”
Mom shakes her head back and forth. “Shame on them.”
* * *
The next morning, Mami is waiting for me at the kitchen table. It’s almost as if she never went to sleep at all.
“It hurts me that he hurt you, nena. I’m sorry he isn’t who we thought he was. We thought you two would get married one day.” She looks out the kitchen window as she sits. “I’m glad that didn’t happen.”
“Yeah, me too,” I tell her. “What did you think of Bordeaux?” I switch the focus of the conversation. I’m curious about how she interpreted him.
She’s silent for too long and doubt creeps in, settles in my stomach, and aches.
“He seems like a nice young man,” she says, narrowing her eyes at me, tapping her fingers on the tabletop. My stomach sinks. A nice young man. She’s said that about past boyfriends of mine.
It never ends well.
“But?”
“But will you be happy? What kind of home will you have? And he’s a rockstar, nena. It’s intimidating.” My mom is right, even if I don’t want to admit that out loud. The situation is very intimidating.
“I’m happy right now, Mami.” Saying that I’m happy out loud makes things more real, definitive, and now it feels like I have a hell of a lot more to lose. She looks at me and I’m overtaken by how much I love my mother. Her kind, deep chocolate eyes, and her warmness. “I really like him. I’ve never been attracted to someone like him.”
She perks up a bit. “Someone like him?”
“You know what I mean, don’t make me say it,” I tell her, rolling my eyes playfully.
