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“Don’t get too ahead of yourself.” I haven’t told her a single thing yet, but I can already tell my cheeks are turning pink. “His name is Theo.”
“Last name?” She pulls out her phone, poised to google him. Good lord, this woman is no better than Angela.
“Mom!” I shake my head at her, resisting the urge to pull the phone away from her. “Put the phone away. This is why I don’t tell you anything, geez.”
“Excuse me for looking out for you.” She scowls but does as I say. “I’ll look him up later,” she says beneath her breath.
“Theo Young.” I watch her face for the first sign of realization. “That’s his name. I met him…” We’re heading into dangerous territory here.
“Young? Like Ben Young?” Understanding settles behind her eyes when I tell her he’s Ben’s older brother. When I told her I was dating Ben, she always made it a point to mention how happy I looked. Then when we broke up and I told her we were staying friends, she looked at me with such pity I couldn’t stand it. Now the first signs of wariness creep into her eyes. “I see. What does he think of you and his brother?”
I’m done. With all of you.
Of all the people who have come and gone from my life, I’ve never had the satisfaction of a confrontation before Ben. Getting a clean break, no matter the mess that brought it on in the first place. It feels good to finally know where we stand with each other, even if we’re no longer on speaking terms.
“We’re not friends anymore,” I say. “A lot has happened the past few weeks. You probably don’t want the full story.”
“Of course I want to know!” Her voice raises, and maybe it’s her tone compounded with the four walls of my childhood home around me that suddenly makes me feel like a preteen again. The fights we used to have, the blame I used to put on her for something outside of her control. “You’re my daughter. If you’re hurting, I need to know about it. Tell me.”
So I do. I spill my guts, starting from the very beginning. The engagement party, discovering his feelings for Alice, stopping him from confessing them. I tell her about our friendship, but I hesitate to admit our arrangement. It’s not exactly a mom-approved topic of conversation, but I explain around it, and she gets the gist. “I wasn’t supposed to fall for him. None of this was supposed to happen.”
“Aye, mija. She pulls me into her arms. “There is no ‘supposed to.’ It doesn’t work that way. You don’t get to decide who your heart wants.”
“Then what do I get to decide?” I ask her, voice wobbly. “What do I get to control?”
“Not very much, I’m afraid.” She wipes the tears from my cheeks. “Only what to do about it.”
What does that mean? I’m about to ask when she continues. “You get to decide if staying is worth the pain you’ll endure, the sacrifices you might have to make to keep him, all the good things he brings to your life. You get to decide your limits, and when to walk away should you need to. None of those are easy decisions to make, but they’re necessary. For your happiness, as well as his.
“It doesn’t mean you failed if things don’t work out.” She smooths the hair back from my face, wipes away the tears I didn’t realize were falling from my cheeks. “Nothing in this life is certain. We know that more than most people.”
“I love him,” I tell her, and it’s the most conviction my voice has ever held. “He’s worth staying for. He’s worth all of it.”
“Then have faith in him, Marcela.” Her arms wrap around my back, small but strong. “Have faith in yourself, too.”
Faith. That’s what I’ve been missing all along.
When she asks me to tell her about him, I start from the very beginning. I tell her about his mistakes and mine, the ways we helped each other overcome them. I tell her about reenacting the last scene from Before the Dawn and the way my heart leapt when he dipped my body and kissed my cheek, and the way the crowd of teens roared afterward, led by Andy. I tell her about the “touchdown” I made during the date he planned, and how I almost ruined everything with my fear later at dinner.
“I hate how much your father leaving hurt you. I wish I could stop it from affecting you this way.” Her arm tightens around my shoulders.
“Me, too. But you know what?” I glance at her, and suddenly I can’t help the small smile that breaks through. “I’m not afraid anymore.”
“So when do I get to meet him?” she asks again, nudging my side with an elbow.
“Hmm, I don’t know.” I tap my chin in thought. “I’ll bring him around when there’s a ring on this finger.” I hold up my left hand, wiggling my ring finger. She rolls her eyes heavenward and heaves a deep, bone-weary sigh. “Or maybe I’ll just invite you to the ceremony and you can meet him afterwards.”
“You think you’re funny?” Her tone is sarcastic, but her eyes are glittering. She slaps my hand playfully, telling me to be serious, which only makes me take it a step further.
“Or maybe I’ll wait until you’re a grandma.”
She roars her outrage, and I laugh until my stomach hurts.
Thirty-Four
I am a faithless idiot no longer.
All in. I’m all in. The more I tell myself this, the more I believe it.
