“She just murdered her good twin and this is what you’re shielding me from?” I don’t know why I’m bothering. This isn’t a battle I’ll win.
“I won’t have that ungodly crap in my house.” She clicks off the TV, cementing my refusal to ever tell her about myself. No ungodly lesbians in her house. Maybe she didn’t mean it like that. Or maybe she did. It doesn’t matter, since I’m saving all my extra earnings so I can get by on my own if she finds out about me and kicks me out.
She replaces the telenovela with cumbia music, then dances her way into the kitchen to make dinner.
Woosah.
I shake it off and take a moment to admire the bracelets I’ve made so far. If I stare at them too long, the colors might put me in a trance and make me forget. It’s easy to get lost in the vibrant angular patterns. My bracelets look just as good as Mom’s, even though I took longer and finished fewer. I let myself appreciate my handiwork before I move on to making miscellaneous stuff. But I don’t get much done before the smell of frying tortillas wafts through the room. After an excruciating and barely productive wait, Mom finally comes back in with a plate of chicken flautas and beans for us and kisses my forehead.
“Oh, I love this, mija. Me and you take care of things now, and your brother will take care of me in my old age.” I hate how despite her homophobia, my chest still warms at her attempt to bond with me. Still, I can’t help but read into it.
“I can still take care of you then, Mami.” I prick my finger with the earring wire I’m shaping, and she chuckles.
“Oh, I don’t think you’ll have to. Your brother’s going to be the next Bill Gates. He can take care of us both!”
I start eating so I don’t have to talk. I wish she wouldn’t be so obvious about how much more potential Cesar has than me. Yes, he’s a prodigy and a genius, but I’m the one staying up late doing homework and working, while he stays up talking to girls. I’m the one working 24/7 to pay my own tuition, while Cesar doesn’t even have to try for her approval. She’s right, though. If one of us is going to “make it,” it’s him.
My phone buzzes, and I let out a childish squeal and happy-flap my hands when I see my dad on FaceTime. Finally he calls me back.
“Pues stop screaming and answer it!” Mami waves at my phone.
I’m still squealing when I finally pick up. He has a huge smile on his face that stretches the bags under his eyes, and his eyes get twinkly when he laughs at my reaction. I’ve never seen my dad “cry,” but he gets a little misty-eyed sometimes when we talk after longish gaps. We FaceTime as often as we can, which lately hasn’t been very often, since he’s working like a million hours a week.
“Ahh, look at my two favorite ladies! So beautiful you both are.” He smiles and runs a hand through his hair. He’s usually wearing a work hat with the logo for his cab service on it when we FaceTime, but he’s not today. It makes me realize that he now has a few streaks of gray hair combed back with the black. “How are my girls doing?”
“Great! Yamilet is a little entrepreneur, did you know?” Mami shakes my shoulder.
“Of course I knew. She’s going to take care of our retirement. Isn’t that right, mija?”
I have a hard time hiding my blush. At least someone believes in me. I feel myself getting choked up. It feels terrible to say, but I wish someone here believed in me. Someone more tangible.
Dad must notice something’s off. “Maria, mi amor, can I have a minute with Yami?”
My mom puts a hand on her heart. “What about your beautiful wife, eh? You got something to hide from me?”
“Yeah, we’re going to talk shit about you,” Dad says.
“Emiliano!” Mom gasps like she’s never heard him cuss before. She’s always a stickler about cursing, and she only does it herself when she’s pissed. I don’t wait to get scolded, so I hop over the back of the couch and trip on my own feet on the way to my room with the phone.