She couldn’t talk about this and actually look at anyone—not Mabel or anyone—so she kept her face covered and told her what happened with Dick. Mabel never stopped stroking her hair.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She paused. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you know. You can’t punish yourself, mujer.”
“But what do I do?” Olga asked.
“You tell him what happened to you. You let him listen. You let him tell you he still loves you, because he will.”
* * *
OLGA TOOK A very long shower. She washed her hair and, to her own surprise, put on mascara and lip gloss, just to bring some life back to her face. She felt lighter for having told Mabel. It wasn’t Mabel’s words that made the difference as much as it was, she realized, that speaking what happened aloud had begun, ever so slightly, to deflate the balloon of humiliation that had been taking up so much space inside her. When she came out of the bathroom, she could smell her aunt’s cooking and felt an appetite, a desire, return to her again. She felt excited to eat and a smile broke out on her face for the first time in many, many days. But, on entering the kitchen, she was surprised to see Lola and Mabel sitting at her kitchen counter with such serious expressions on their faces. In front of them, a pile of her mother’s letters.
BASTA YA
It had been Tía Lola’s idea to gather the letters from her mother, in chronological order, and read them, all together, out loud.
She had found them on Olga’s desk; Olga had taken them out and reread some of them while she had grappled with her fateful decision to visit Dick and, well, she’d not given them another thought. Mabel had been disturbed by what she described as “psychological abuse.” Lola latched onto the notes about Reggie.
“I always knew your mother talked you into breaking up with him; my mother wouldn’t say, but I knew it was her.”
Olga just shrugged. She felt exposed knowing other people could hear the voice that had been whispering in her ear for so very long.
“This is wack, Olga,” Mabel exclaimed. “Wack. You realize that, don’t you?”
Again, Olga just shrugged. “I never thought of it as good or bad; it’s just always been.”
“When was the last time you heard from her?” her aunt asked. “Is this the last time?” She held up the last letter.
Olga felt like a child in that moment, too overwhelmed to worry about what she should or shouldn’t say. She told them about the visit from Karen, about the phone call. This led to more questions. Why did she call now? What did she want? Which led to more disclosures: Reggie, the Pa?uelos Negros, the solar panels. She watched the shock form on their faces.
“So,” Mabel asked, “if I’m following this, you went to see your ex on behalf of your mother?”
“Yes, but she didn’t know we were broken up.” She didn’t realize it was a lie until it was already out of her mouth. “And she didn’t know about Matteo—”
“Good! Because she would have probably told you to break up with him and go with this other motherfucker, because God forbid you have any joy…”
“You don’t know that, Mabel!” Olga pleaded, even though she, herself, knew that’s exactly what would have happened. That this was why she didn’t tell her mother about Matteo in the first place.
“Why do you defend her!? ?Co?o! She left you! She never called until she needed something—and then that something is fucking batshit crazy. You made a whole life without her and she’s literally been telling you that you aren’t shit for years, but you defend her!”
“Ay, Mabel,” Lola interjected, “calm down. You’re frustrated, I get it. But there’s no reason to take it out on Olga.”
“？No, Tía! This is too much. This woman hasn’t done dick for them, and my cousins twist themselves into knots to please her?”
“Do you know if she’s been writing to your brother, too?” Lola asked.
When Olga didn’t immediately answer, her tía just pulled out her phone and called Prieto directly. She went into the other room, and when she came back, she announced her plan.
“Your brother is coming back from D.C. on the first flight tomorrow; we’re gonna put all these letters together and air this shit out. Enough with the secrets!”
“I don’t want to see him,” Olga replied. “He’s a fucking piece of shit.”
“Why do you say that?” Mabel said, cutting her off. “Because of something your mother told you? Or one of her brainwashed friends?”