Maritza tries to maintain her pose as she stiffly leans in for a hug. It feels like I’m hugging a tree, but I try my best to embrace her. Her sharp shoulder jabs into my chest, but I ignore it. I couldn’t remember the last time Maritza was this affectionate with me.
“That was crazy.” I laugh as we watch Maritza saunter away, walking so gracefully she looks as if she’s floating.
“Looks like your speech may have inspired even the least likely people. It seems like everyone prefers the real Isabella too, huh?”
“I guess so.” I smile.
I spot Silvana slowly approaching me, looking awkward. She crosses her arms and glances over her shoulder, clearly uncomfortable.
“Okay, so…look, I’m supposed to apologize or whatever,” she says, barely able to make eye contact. She glances around as if she’s checking for an escape route. “For threatening you. And kissing Val. Apparently, Maria told my mom, and now she’s on my case, so here I am. Apologizing. Happy?”
I cross my arms and blink at her. “Wow, Silvana. I’m really feeling the sincerity here. You’re practically oozing remorse.”
“Hey, this is as good as it gets. Take it or leave it. My mom said if I didn’t apologize, she’s cutting my allowance. So…sorry. There. I said it,” she huffs, rolling her eyes as if she’s doing me a massive favor.
I hold back a laugh. “Well, when you put it like that, I’m completely overwhelmed with emotion. Your apology is just…breathtaking.”
She scowls but there’s a hint of amusement in her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Just don’t expect a repeat performance. Apologizing isn’t really my thing.”
“Shocker,” I deadpan, patting her on the back. “Don’t worry, Silvie. We’re good. You can run along now.”
She looks around one more time as if she’s checking to make sure she’s fulfilled her duty, then quickly turns on her heel. “Cool. Later,” she says, practically sprinting away.
As we mingle with the other guests, I sample some of the delicious hors d’oeuvres being passed around. There are miniature quiches filled with savory vegetables, delicate phyllo cups stuffed with shrimp and herbs, and skewers of juicy grilled chicken with a tangy dipping sauce. Each bite is more delicious than the last, and I can’t help but go back for seconds and thirds. I catch Maria stuffing a few into her clutch.
More guests have approached me to tell me some secrets they’ve been holding in. Alessandro admits he doesn’t live in the condos he posts on social media but in a small studio apartment across the street with his cat. Ramon and Rafael, the twins, admit their father hasn’t appointed them to VP positions of his company—they work in cubicles and actually don’t mind it. Araceli tells us her parents have been divorced for nine years and lying to everyone about it. Each of them praises me for my bravery and tell me they don’t care about my financial status. Some even promise to make plans with me when we all return home. It seems like everyone has secrets they’re keeping from others out of fear of judgment. I’m not as alone as I thought I was.
I see Abuelita sitting in the reception area from a distance, peacefully watching the crowd mingle and the servers scurry by.
“I’ll be right back,” I whisper to Valentina and head toward Abuelita.
I walk under the canopy of lights and sit down next to her. She continues looking at the crowd, or at least it seems like it, through her almost-closed eyes.
“Mijita.” She smiles softly as if she’s just acknowledging my presence.
“Hola, Abuelita.” I kiss her on the head. “How are you?”
“Muy bien, mijita. There’s so much love here tonight, verdad?”
“Si, there is,” I say, putting my hand on hers.
We sit in silence for a moment, watching the guests laugh, drink, and tell each other stories.
“What’s on your mind, Isabellita?” She turns slowly toward me.
“I just wanted to thank you. You were the first to push me to fight for someone, even if it meant doing the same thing my mother did.”
“What do you mean, mija?”
“You know, I basically stole Valentina from Silvana. She loved her.”
“Oh no, Isabellita. You are nothing like your mother. Valentina didn’t love Silvana. Roberto loved Rosita, and Rosita loved Roberto. You’re not like Mariposa. You’re like Roberto.”
“I am? How?”
“You’re strong. Loving. Resilient. He was brave enough to try and tell you the truth, even when he was losing his strength. You were so brave today, telling everyone who the real Isabellita is. I am so proud of you, mijita.”
I reach over and give Abuelita a big hug.
