“I didn’t ask you to…” I breathe out.
“Well, then why are you complaining?” My mother scrapes her teeth on her fork.
I look down at my plate. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”Don’t cry.“Actually, Warren has a car. He lets me borrow it twice a week, which is so kind of him.” I put the attention back on Warren. My mom seems enamoured by him.He’s wearing a cable-knit sweater, for crying out loud.
“Does Warren not need his car for work?” she asks me but looks to watch Warren’s response.
His hand tightens around my knee. I hesitate a moment too long, and Warren speaks in my place. “I asked her to borrow it—because she was grocery shopping for the house. Seemed fair. Plus, Willow’s appointments are across the city, and the buses here are terrible. Hopefully the new ad campaigns help that.”
His chest puffs, as if he has accomplished something, and he loosens the grip on my knee. Poor Warren. He doesn’t know his opponent well.
My mother puts her cutlery down and looks down her nose at him. “If you weren’t here, then what? Chloe cannot learn to be self-sufficient if she doesn’t at first struggle. Her father and I were not born into wealth. We worked hard and sacrificed to get to where we are. Now we can afford cars. We don’t need to concern ourselves with borrowing or… public transit.” My mother waves a limp wrist to the side of her, as if she’s gesturing to the peasants below out the apartment window.
Warren chews his lips and then opens them solely to shovel food in. I think he’s keeping his mouth full purposefully.
“Mom, it’s fine. I’m close to getting the car, so it won’t be an issue soon. Just forget—”
“Well, I hope you don’t use your birthday money on it. That is supposed to pay for flights to visit us and Abuela.” My mom pouts. “She’s older now, darling. You may not get many more chances to visit her.”
“I already said I can’t travel until Willow’s custody is final. Then we’ll come visit.”
“I don’t know if travelling with an infant is a good idea. It’s a long flight,” she says, dismissing my response.
A breathy laugh comes out of me. “Mom, what am I supposed to do? She’s—”
“She can’t go stay with another family? Constance?” I haven’t heard my mother use Connie’s name in over ten years.
I take in a short breath without meaning to. “No, Mom… she can’t. Would you have let me stay with her? When you wanted to travel?”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“We weren’t babysitting while she got sober. We took you in permanently. We were ready to be parents. We had our time to travel, save money, and enjoy life beforehand. We wanted you. We chose to give up those things…”
“I want Willow, permanently. I’m going to have her permanently.”
She raises her hands up as my voice becomes louder. Luke and my father go still at the end of the table, coming back into a room that is tenser than when they left it.
My eyes water, mostly from frustration. “Why can’t you support me in this? It has been so hard. You haven’t even held her.”
“We just got here. Do I need to hold her within minutes of—”
“You should be excited to meet her! She’s a part of me!” I’m getting louder, unable to stop it. A tear drops off my chin.
“Do not speak to me like that,hija. You want me to be happy to watch you throw your life away?” She scoffs. “I thought you’d follow my example and not yourjunkiebirth mother, but now you choose this life? You choose art over success? Pride over wealth? You choose to raise a baby alone? Who will want you now?Ay Dios Mio. We tried so hard! Where did we go so wrong?”
I open my mouth but nothing comes out. I turn to see my father, who I know can lip-read after years of my mother’s noncompliance, and wait for him to look at me.Show me you got that. Show me you’re sorry.He doesn’t turn.
I push away from the table, and Warren’s palm slips off my leg as I stand. I look down at my mother and hold her eyes as I tuck Willow closer.
“You are not allowed to speak to me like that anymore.” I attempt to hold my voice even. “I’m struggling, sure. It’s really hard. But I’m happy with my decision. This is how my life is going to be. Whether you like it or not. So you can either support me… or you can go.”
My mother looks me up and down with contempt. She lets my words sit for far too long, knowing she’s the only person who can speak next. She wants me to squirm—I will not.
She speaks, but not to me. “Do you see how she talks to me? The disrespect… would you talk to your mother like that, Warren?”
Warren looks down at his lap, nods once, then stands slowly, his body tense. He looks to Luke at the head of the table and uses his chin to gesture to Luke’s bedroom door. Luke nods and leaves the table without hesitation.
