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Translation: Dear God.
“¿En serio?” Dad asks.
Translation: Seriously?
“Yes,” I confirm. “He’s very successful.”
Dad whistles.
“How did the two of you meet?” Mom asks.
“I didn’t tell her,” Ciara says. “I didn’t want to steal your thunder.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“We—”
“He’s her translation client,” Ciara jumps in. “He hired her to translate for him while they were in Paris, and he ended up French kissing her. Get it?” My sister laughs her head off.
So much for not stealing my thunder.
“You hooked up with the boss?” Mom asks.
“Yes.” He’s the boss, just not my boss.
You can do this.
You can do this.
Just tell them.
Rip the Band-Aid off.
“There’s something you should know—”
“I wanted to bring that up.” Dad interrupts me, “What’s this about you becoming a translator? I thought it was the last profession you would’ve ever considered.” No, no it’s not.
“Well, Dad—”
“She’s getting her life back on track,” Ciara says.
“She did what she had to do, Emilio,” my mother says.
Dad cuts his eyes at her.
What is it with these two?
“I’m not arguing that, Julia. She’s been vehement about it her whole life. Strapped behind a desk, translating boring documents all day was always inconceivable to her.”
“She has to deal with the aftermath known as Brad Hyler,” Mom says.
Ciara interjects. “No matter how many times I offered to help her, she didn’t want my money. Translation might not be her profession of choice, but at least it allows her to keep her head above water.”
“Exactly,” my mother says. “Sofia is taking responsibility. It’s more than we can say about that gringo idiota who skipped town after stealing money from so many people. That poor family with two daughters with special needs.” She shakes her head. “God will make Brad pay.”
I might as well not be in the room.
“Dad, you make it sound like being a translator is right up there with Sofia selling her body to make ends meet.”
