Forgiveness

by Chiquis Rivera

  I sat motionless, staring at open space. I asked my friends to take over. They moved the bed out into the living room, converted the bedroom into a closet and unloaded all the shit from the truck. Stupid clothes, I thought. They cost me everything.

  One morning, after I managed to drag myself into the shower and calm down a little bit, my mother started texting me. How are you? How is everything? she asked. I never answered her, so she decided to post a song by Chuy Lizárraga on her Twitter:

  Where have you gone, my presumptuous one?

  I’m dying for you to return,

  I want you to see my tears

  They’re beautiful, though you caused the pain . . .

  Where have you gone, my presumptuous one?

  I propose we discuss your return;

  Whatever you want,

  Whatever you ask,

  I have it;

  And if what you want simply does not exist,

  In that case, I’ll invent it.

  My mother loved sending us messages through song, especially when words failed her. And since I didn’t reply to her Tweet, she finally decided to actually call me. Swallowing her pride, she asked me, very clearly, to return.

  “Princess, you should come home. You can have your job back, your room, everything.”

  Her voice sounded shaky. I could tell she was about to break down and cry, so I got in the car and drove straight to see her. She needed a hug from me as much as I needed one from her.

  “Momma, I love you, but I can’t come back. Not right now. I already moved out, and it’s just not fair. It hurt a lot, and I still need some time,” I said, with all my heart.

  “Okay mija. I love you,” she replied, very understanding. Over the years, my mother had gotten more sentimental, especially since she became a grandmother, and she wasn’t willing to risk losing any of her princesses. Her greatest joy was having us all there at home.

  After that embrace and those words of reconciliation, our relationship felt better than ever.

  I focused on managing my finances and expenses better, and I started planning my next business venture. One morning, I woke up in that garage filled with shoes feeling happy: Okay, this is the life of an independent, single woman. It’s not so bad. I don’t have to get up early and start taking care of the house and the kids. I can get an extra hour of sleep! I thought. I have to admit, I liked it!

  But what I liked even better was the attention from my mother. She’d call me, invite me to lunch at some fashionable restaurant and we’d sit there and talk about everything, like true friends. Or she’d tell me, “Come over and have dinner at the house,” and when I would get there, a place would be set for me at the table. We had finally gotten back to being mother and daughter, not boss and employee. Those few months, from March to July, represented some of the best mother-daughter time we ever had. Once again, we were those two crazy, inseparable girls riding a bike through the streets of Long Beach.

  One night, after having dinner with everyone at the house in Encino, I said good-bye and got ready to head back to my apartment.

  From the driveway, as I got into my car, I saw Esteban through the kitchen window. The kids were helping him load the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. My mother was laughing as they told her some joke they’d sent to his phone.

  “My family is a success, and my life will be too,” I said to myself as I drove back to the apartment. My soul was at peace, and I was ready for my next big adventure.

  That adventure already had a name. Blow Me Dry: a beauty salon I was about to open there in Encino. I decided to invest what little savings I had in this new project, and to do it all by myself. I chose the place, the name, and I hired the employees. I filed for the permits, paid for the fees and I worked with Iris Corral, my PR agent, to promote it. All I asked my mother to do was to join me for the grand opening.

  That evening, all the major Spanish-language TV stations sent reporters there. I was so nervous that I almost threw up. It felt like the first day of kindergarten. And my mother wasn’t even there yet! I had to start the event without her and face the cameras alone for the first time. When the interviews got started on the little red carpet, I felt someone tug at my hand. Before I even looked, I knew: My momma is here. And the tears started to flow, much to the surprise of the poor journalist who was standing there holding the microphone, trying to understand why I was so excited.

  “Wow, mija, wow,” she whispered in my ear. “You’ve impressed me. This is so beautiful. But why are you crying, princess?”

  “Because I thought you weren’t coming,” I said, babbling like a little girl.

  “I’m right here with you, baby. I’ll always be with you,” she said, reassuring me as only she knew how to do, and then we walked, hand in hand, toward the new salon and my new future.

  The next gift life gave me that strange year came on my birthday.

  My mother, Esteban and the kids had invited me to the movies. We went to Pasadena and, although the movie sucked, we had a great time. At the end of the film, someone hugged me from behind. Surprise! It was my boyfriend. But the real surprise was my mother’s reaction: she gave one of her mischievous smiles and greeted him just as if he were any other person. I froze, and I guess from seeing the look on my face, my momma decided to offer me an explanation.

  “Come on, princess. The two of us spoke yesterday and decided to squash it. We wanted to celebrate your birthday the way it deserves to be celebrated: with a big party.”

  I swear, I couldn’t believe it. That was the first time they had ever agreed to meet face-to-face.

  The rest of my friends and family members were waiting for us at my boyfriend’s house with tequila and food. While the mariachi music was blaring and the glasses were flying, my mother and my boyfriend snuck out into the backyard while I watched them through a window.

  It was time for them to open up to each other. My boyfriend told her that it really bothered him that she was going around believing the rumors about someone she hadn’t even met. And she apologized to him, though she added that I was her baby and always would be, and that she would protect me from any and all harm. They kept on chatting for half an hour! I guess they had a thousand other things to talk about that they never shared with me, but at least they were speaking honestly. They were both equally stubborn and straightforward.

  Eventually, Esteban came to find me.

  “Hija, your mom is looking for you.”

  I went out into the backyard, still pretty nervous, but when I got close enough to hear them laughing together, I thought to myself, This is my real birthday present.

  “Baby, now I know why you like this guy so much!” my mother said with a huge smile on her face.

  “I don’t just like him, Momma. I think I love him.”

  “Say what you will, but he and I have a lot in common. They say girls fall for guys who remind them of their fathers, but you fell in love with someone like me, because I’ve been both your mother and your father. I always have been.”

  At that, my boyfriend started laughing.

  The party that night ended peacefully, with Esteban and my mother embraced in total harmony, and my boyfriend and I dancing together tightly. That summer promised to be a fantastic one.

  But, just like every other happy chapter in our lives, it would be a short one.

  I still don’t understand what the hell happened. To this day, nobody has been able to explain to me why, in eight short weeks, our heaven turned into pure hell. And the only person who could help clarify that for us is no longer here to tell the tale.

  I spent that summer working hard in my salon and planning to start my singing career. It was already a done decision: I was going to make my debut as an artist very soon. It was something I’d always secretly dreamed about, and that was the time to make it happen.

  “Mija, just wait one more year,” my mother said when I first told her my plans. “I want to be your manager, but right now I’m just so busy. Give m
e a few months, and we’ll start together.”

  Someday, my mother wanted to leave the grueling world of touring behind her, and take on projects that would allow her to stay home and be closer to her children and husband.

  “I want to produce an all-female band, like Limite, but with you as the lead singer, princess.”

  I thought my mother’s plan was fantastic. Professionally, between the two of us, there was no jealousy. When it was time to get down to work and earn the bread, Momma and I were a team. And we’d always said that when my mother moved into another stage of her career, it would be to help my siblings and me fulfill our own dreams. “Everything I do is about building a name, an investment you can benefit from,” she would say. How many times did I hear her repeat those words? “My dream is your dream,” she insisted. But before dreaming about more standing ovations, we had to get Jacqie married!

  And that was when I saw the first sign that our blue summer sky was starting to cloud over: my boyfriend would not be attending the wedding. That big show they’d put on for my birthday about peace and love between mother and boyfriend was just a flash in the pan. Once again, my mother refused to accept him as part of the family. She just kept on insisting that she didn’t like the fact that he had so many children, that he would never make me happy, that there was something suspicious about him and that he was up to no good. On top of that, I was starting to notice that she was feeling a bit threatened by him. If he bought me a pair of shoes, she’d buy me three. I think that—because he wasn’t some kid she could manipulate at will, and he could give me the same things she could—she didn’t want him in her life. Or mine.

  I was so tired of so much drama that I decided to ignore the problem for the time being and simply enjoy the wedding, whether or not my boyfriend was there with me. But don’t even think that I was about to leave him! Eventually, I thought, very optimistically, my mother would end up accepting him. The fight would be billed as Obstinate Mother vs. Stubborn Daughter. And I wasn’t about to give up that easily.

  As usual, my mother was in charge of the whole party, and coordinated everything down to the last detail. Her daughters never had quinceañeras, but their weddings would be the stuff of legend. Jacqie chose Wednesday, September 19, as the day to say the big “Yes.” Wednesday has always been my favorite day of the week. My mother and I were both born on Wednesdays, and Wednesdays were our days to get together for dinner and to watch a movie.

  And on that Wednesday—the day of the wedding—I noticed a few more signs of the storm that was on the horizon. That morning, while we were all getting ready, my mother told me that she had caught Esteban texting his ex back in Texas.

  “Oh, Momma, they have a child together. What did you expect? That they’d never speak again?” I said, trying to calm her down.

  “Those texts were too friendly,” she replied, suspicious. “But I don’t care about that. I’m just sick and tired of all his little lies. Esteban lies about all this bullshit, and it’s starting to get on my nerves.”

  “Momma, there’s no way Pops is even capable of cheating on you. You and I both know that,” I said, hoping to placate her a little, and I didn’t give it a second thought.

  I thought it was just the silly suspicions of a married woman. Just like the meaningless twinge of jealousy I felt because my sister Jacqie didn’t include me much when it came to preparing for her big day, choosing instead to do most of the planning with our mother, almost in secret.

  But all jealousy aside, the truth is that my mother hates lies. Big or small, they’re all the same to her. And I think Esteban lied to her because he feared admitting to even the tiniest detail because of how she would react. “Mi amor, I went to the store yesterday,” he’d say, when in fact he had gone earlier that same day. Or, “My brother invited me out for dinner,” when actually it was the other way around. Just stupid little lies that my mother always caught him in.

  That night during the party, those little lies and who knows what else they were fighting about were keeping them at a distance. They barely hugged or kissed the entire night. He looked a little sad, and he seemed kind of cold. And to top it all off, my mother was acting weird, but this time it didn’t have anything to do with my boyfriend.

  Something was wrong in my momma’s head and in her heart. What could it be? Amidst the hundreds of guests and all the photos and smiles, I felt a hint of tension in the air. There’s a hell of a thunderstorm on the way, I sensed.

  Something else happened that night that would have lightning-like consequences. Elena, my mother’s jeweler, was one of the guests sitting at the table with the new bride. As I walked past them, she grabbed my arm and said, “Chiquis, you’re so lovely, you’re like an angel on earth. You’re the most beautiful girl at this party.”

  I gave her a hug, thanked her for the compliment and walked away. Elena was so sweet and affectionate with everyone. She was a lesbian, but she liked flirting with just about everyone, just for the fun of it. But from the look on her face, her girlfriend didn’t like it at all. She was fuming, which surprised me because everyone knows how Elena is.

  That night, the couple danced, arm in arm, to the rhythm of the mariachi music, but the real star of the show was pure, dark jealousy. Jealousy between mothers and their husbands, between mothers and their in-laws, between sisters and friends, between mothers and daughters. Jealousy that slipped in uninvited, spreading throughout the flowers and slipping underneath the white tablecloths. And with that last dance, we all carried that toxic jealousy back to our homes and our bedrooms. Each with our own.

  15.

  GRABBING RUMORS BY THE HORNS

  Sometimes I wonder whether it’s the rumors that burn and fuel the jealousy, or whether it’s the other way around—if it’s jealousy that stirs and provokes the rumors.

  In this case, it’s impossible to tell whether it’s the chicken or the egg that came first. But the explosive mixture erupted less than twenty-four hours after Jacqie tossed her bridal bouquet through the air toward a cluster of single women.

  Now it’s my turn to tell the how and the why. I hate that I have to do it. Especially since my mother never fully explained it, leaving the episode unfinished.

  My mother left nothing written about this conflict in her posthumous memoirs, but after much thought as to whether or not I should talk about what my mother had wanted to keep quiet, I decided to go ahead with it.

  From the moment my mother first made this chapter of our family history—which I’m about to discuss—public, on television, and before she mentioned my name as the person primarily responsible for it, the ball was already rolling. I know she meant no ill will, but now it’s my responsibility to stop the ball before it rolls any further.

  I feel that it is my duty to put an end to these latest slanderous assumptions, and thus to clean the image of both my mother and me. The two of us deserve to be left in peace.

  I know that my mother is not here to respond to my comments. I also know that I love her and that my need to talk about this is in no way an attack on her. It is to explain to her, through these pages, what she never let me explain to her face-to-face. I know I have her approval to do so, from wherever she may be, which is also where she will be reading these words. And I know that I have the approval of every member of my family, whom I love and respect.

  In this life, no matter how afraid we might be, there are times when we have to face the bull. The bull of truth. And grab the rumors by the horns. You can’t say it any better than that.

  16.

  TOO MUCH SUGAR

  There’s nothing worse than waking up in the morning with a hangover. And some hangovers, like the one from Jacqie’s wedding, can be killers. It came from a raw reality of jealousy and insecurity that you just can’t run away from.

  With my feet still aching from dancing so much in those damn heels, I took a shower, got dressed and drove the rental car straight to the house in Encino to pick up my brand-new Prius. My mother had
leased it, but I was the one making the payments. When I arrived, I found it parked right next to the fountain near the entrance, sparkling new, with the key in the ignition.

  “Mija, let’s go see a movie.” said my mother, who happened to be leaving the house with Esteban and the kids.

  “Sure, let’s go.” What a great idea, and this way, I could drive my new car. Jenicka got in with me, while the rest of the family rode in the other car.

  Throughout the entire movie, my mother was mysteriously texting someone. Both Esteban and I saw it, but neither of us asked her about it. When we were leaving the theater, though, we learned with whom she had frantically been exchanging messages.

  “Elena’s girlfriend wants to talk with me,” my mother said. “They’re having problems. I’m going to go see her.”

  That seemed strange. Very strange, in fact. Elena was one of my mother’s best friends. Why would she want to go comfort the girlfriend instead of supporting Elena, whom she was much closer to? We’d only known her partner for a couple of months, and during that time, she never gave me a good vibe. I don’t know, there was just something about her that made me uncomfortable.

  “Is it alright if I take your car, Chiquis, so the rest of you can all ride home together in the other car?” my mother asked.

  “Will you be gone long?” I asked, intrigued.

  “No, no, just a little while. What about you? Will you be spending the night at the house?”

  I was surprised that my mother would ask me that. I’d been sleeping at the apartment for months. I loved waking up there, surrounded by all my stuff.

  “No, Momma, I’ll need to head back to the apartment tonight,” I said.

  We kissed and she left in my car while the rest of us piled in the other. Esteban was driving with me on the passenger side. Johnny and Jenicka were in the back, fast asleep. It was getting late.

  “I don’t get it; this doesn’t make any sense,” Esteban said, not even bothering to hide his suspicions. “Why did she have to go talk with her at this time of day? They’re not even very good friends.”