“What’s up?”
“This came for you today.” She held it out and Zita took it.
The logo on the corner of the envelope made her freeze. It was the Law School Admissions Council.
Feck.
“Is there something you want to talk to me about?” Carmen didn’t appear upset.
What was she supposed to say? Zita shifted her laptop onto her bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed. “It was something I was considering.” She threw the envelope in the trash. “It doesn’t matter, I’m not going to do it anymore.”
“Why not? You would make a good lawyer.”
Zita stared at her mother. “Do you think so?”
“Of course. You have the passion and determination. Why have you never said anything?”
Zita hesitated. Should she admit to her mother how unhappy she was? Should she confide all of her plans and hope she understood?
“Niñita, you’ve not been happy. Talk to me.”
She stared at Carmen. “What?”
Her mother tutted. “You think I don’t know when my child is upset? I’ve been waiting, hoping you will talk to me when you’re ready.”
Hell. Zita had to be truthful. She took hold of Carmen’s hand. “I wanted to become an immigration lawyer. I wanted to fight for my sisters in the courtroom, not just hold their hands.”
“And you no longer want to?”
“Mama, you need my help too much.” Zita sighed. “The girls need so much support, I can’t leave you to do it on your own, and studying law would take up so many hours.”
“Pfft. What nonsense is this?”
Zita sat back.
“Three of the girls are at school full-time. The other three need help, yes, but not so much that you have to give up what you want.”
“But yesterday you were so upset, you said you needed me.”
“Yesterday I was emotional.” She waved her hand. “Sometimes it even gets on top of me, but I don’t want my daughter to feel obligated. Are you happy?”
“I was...” That was the truth. “But now I want a little bit more.” How could she explain it without making it seem like she didn’t value what her mother was doing? “I feel so useless when I sit in the courtroom. With each new girl, we go through the same thing and we’re not getting anywhere.”
Carmen nodded. “It is endless, but we’re making a difference.”
“You’remaking a difference,” she said. “You have all the work with the migrant community as well as the foster girls. I’m just helping out.”
“If you feel that way, you should definitely find something else to do.” Carmen patted her arm.
“Really?” She couldn’t believe how calm her mother was being.
“Of course. I want you to be happy.”
“I didn’t want to disappoint you. You’ve been doing this for so long.”
“Sí, and perhaps neglecting my youngest child. It was hard on you when I first began to foster. You were still at school.”
“No, Mama. I always had your support.”
