Mariposa inspects it and smiles.
“It looks like an adorable photo of you and your father. So what’s the big reveal?”
“I can’t believe you’re going to continue playing dumb. I know you know exactly why this photo is ripped.”
I see the smile slowly start to fade from her face. She reaches for the photo, but I snatch it away.
“You can’t take this one away from me, Mari. Now, look at the back.”
I turn it around and watch as the color flushes from Mariposa’s face. It is, by far, the most satisfying moment of my life.
“Sofia is my half sister, isn’t she? Rosita was my father’s true love, wasn’t she? I know everything. You can’t keep these lies from me anymore. I figured out all the clues. From her favorite arroz con leche recipe to the lock of hair from Sofia’s first haircut.”
I never did figure that out, but based on my mother’s facial expression of shock and terror, she hasn’t called my bluff for that, which means I’m right.
“Isabella, I did what I needed to do to protect you from these people. They’re liars. They only care about money, class, status, and all the nice things they buy. It’s not a real family.”
“Oh, and we are? Pot? Meet kettle. Look at you. You’re covered in all the wedding favor gifts that aren’t yours. You showed up here in your nicest gown and even got your hair and makeup professionally done. You’re going to sit here and say things about this family as if you’re not exactly the same.”
“It’s not the same, Isabella. You don’t understand the pressure I’m under.”
“Pressure from who?” I shout. “No one gives a fuck what kind of designer bags you own. Only you do. You just have to prove yourself to Rosita and Maritza because they have more money. But news flash, they don’t fucking care. No one cares.”
“I care. I just wanted to live the life they did! I wanted to have nice things too, Isabella. I wanted to make good money and live a life where I could buy Chanel perfumes just because. I just wanted to fit in!”
“You don’t have to be rich to fit in with them! If you took the time to be yourself and get to know them, you’d realize their opinions don’t matter. And even if they care about your status, who cares? I know I don’t anymore. I spent this entire week trying to impress them, making everyone think that I—that we—were super successful when really, no one seemed to bat an eye that I showed up in a shitty car or that I stumbled when asked about expensive things. I even got Sofia a gift from the Coach outlet, and they all loved it. You have a warped view of how you should be to fit in, and you’re wrong.”
Mariposa starts pacing around the cabin, her breath growing heavier. Her mood is getting angrier.
“Isabella, you just don’t understand. You didn’t grow up with them. Maritza was the spoiled one. She got everything she wanted from her father. My father was broke and couldn’t care for my mother and me. Rosita was my best friend and made a name for herself without a man.”
“You mean the man you stole from her?” I snap.
She looks up at me, her eyes wide but her eyebrows furrowed.
“Yeah!” she screams. “That’s right. I stole Roberto! And it was the biggest mistake of my life. I wanted to take something from her for once, and he was the only thing I could take. So what!”
“So what? You ruined their relationship. You’re a homewrecker. Rosita was pregnant already, but you must have already known that, didn’t you?”
“So what if I did? She was only a few weeks along, so I knew I still had a chance. I didn’t want her to have everything while I lay in the dust. That’s how it always was with us. And Roberto had all these dreams of being a successful and rich business owner. I knew if I could just get him alone one night, I would be able to convince him to be with me.”
“You’re unbelievable,” I bite out, my disbelief swelling into anger. “You really think you could just convince him to leave her?” I pause, the pieces clicking together. “What—did you get him drunk, Mari? Try to trap him into being with you? That’s—” My voice falters, disgust creeping in. “That’s messed up.”
I look away from her and back to the dresser, at my own reflection. Am I just the result of a bad memory? Did my father ever resent me?
“Is that what you think? That he was drunk when we had sex? Isabella, he was not drunk. He knew what he was doing. He’s not the angel you think he is. He loved both of us.”
“But he loved Rosita first. You led him on. You didn’t have to do what you did but you still did it. You took him away from who he really loved.”
“It’s not that simple. He always had a thing for me. But getting pregnant with his child—that was the biggest mistake of my life. Not because I didn’t care for him, but because it tied me to this small life. I thought we’d have more. More success, more money. I wanted to be like the rest of the family—wealthy, powerful. Instead, I got stuck in a modest restaurant, stuck with responsibilities I never wanted. And now look at me—I’ll never catch up to them.”
“You ran to his mother to tell her before Rosita could, and that’s when you got married. You thought you’d won, right?”
“I did! I beat her to the punch!”
“Do you hear yourself? Your pregnancy was a mistake? My father was a mistake? Wow, we really did ruin your amazing, perfect, potentially prosperous life, didn’t we?” I scoff.
“Maybe you did! What’s so wrong with me admitting that for once in my life? This isn’t the life I wanted. I didn’t want to struggle with one little restaurant. I’m grateful it’s doing well enough, but this isn’t enough.”
