Page 26 of Strelitzias in Spring

“I’m sorry. I feel like this is my fault.”

My mom lets out a sigh, and though I can’t see her, I can feel her shaking her head. “Stop apologizing for being a young adult. Your father is an asshole. And, while you’re the best thing to ever happen to me, marrying your father was the worst decision I ever made. I should have left him the moment I found out I was pregnant.”

“Mom—” I start, but she cuts me off.

“No, Serena. I chose to stay with him, knowing what he was capable of, knowing that remaining faithful to one woman was too much for him. I don’t regret meeting him because it gave me you, but I regret giving him the power to hurt you. He and his money can go fuck off. We don’t need him, not anymore.”

“Are you sure about this, Mom?” I wipe the tears away with the back of my hand and bite down on my lower lip. I called my mom to tell her about the party on Friday night and the botched tattoo; I never expected her to answer the phone with a confession of speaking with real estate agents to sell our sanctuary. Though she won’t say it, I know that my father and his manipulations are behind this.

“It’s time,Muñeca.Now, what did you have to tell me?”

I cough, a watery splattering of saliva and tears that land on my once-clean countertops. “After this revelation, I hardly think I have anything else to add. My brain is short-circuiting.”

My mom gentles her voice, using a tone she reserves for babies and toddlers. “It’s going to be okay, Serena. There’s nothing for you to do except take care of yourself, be with your friends, and continue to excel in school. I just want you to be happy, baby. I’m asking you—no, begging you—to please let this be. I am at peace with the decision to sell, and I need you to accept it.”

There is no way that I’m accepting it, but I also won’t let my mother harbor any guilt for doing something that I’m almost positive my father is forcing.

“Okay.” My voice is resigned, but my will is anything but. I refuse to let this go without a fight, even if it’s futile.

My mom’s voice is relieved when she says, “Thank you, baby. I need to run; I have a date tonight with the baseball coach, and I need to start getting ready.”

I cringe at my mom’s mention of a date. Though she hasn’t been in a serious relationship since divorcing my dad, my mother is not shy when it comes to insignificant dates. “Say less, Mom. I’m going to hang up now.” We say our goodbyes and disconnect. The moment the line goes dead, I go to my contacts and dial my father’s number.

“Serena,” he answers, not bothering to give me a “hello” or a “how are you?”

“How could you?”

“Excuse me?” My father’s tone is short, almost like he’s annoyed I bothered to call him.

“Why are you doing this? You could buy and sell our house a million times over, yet you insist on making Mom’s and my life as difficult as possible.”

My dad is silent as he takes in my words, and I can feel him seething through the phone. After long moments of silence, he finally says, “Brandi and I decided that we can no longer support you when you continue to hurt Marina and our family. We won’t have anything harm the well-being of those in our household.”

I rear back as if struck. “Are you listening to yourself right now? You realize that you are not Marina’s father, right? You didn’t impregnate Brandi; your DNA is not in Marina. What the fuck do you not get about that?”

My sperm donor has the audacity to scoff. “Marina is more of a daughter to me than you, at this point, Serena. You dare to call me, questioning my generosity through the years when I housed and footed the bill for you and your disgrace of a mother? After all she’s done to poison my own child against me? No.” He laughs. “Until you show me the respect that your sister does, you will not get a single dime out of me.”

“Respect? Why would I show you respect when you’re the one who broke up our family? You’re the one who cheated, not Mom. Even your own mother couldn’t stand the sight of you and moved in with me and Mom to get away from you.” My grandmother, Abuela Pia, immigrated from Mexico City in the early sixties with her parents and married my grandfather, an American Command Sergeant Major. My grandfather died when I was a baby, and my grandmother immediately moved into her only child’s home with his family. My mother’s family lives in Puebla, Mexico, and though we see them every summer, Abuela Pia was a staple in my life.

It says a lot about my father’s actions that his mother disowned him after cheating on my mom and marrying Brandi.

“Watch your mouth, Serena. My mother was a senile woman who was lied to by your mother.”

It’s my turn to scoff. “Senile? She had more sense in her pinky toe than most people. Abuela was fully coherent; she died of a heart attack.” I pause, swallowing down the rest of the vile words I want to say to the man who is fifty percent responsible for giving me life. Releasing a breath, I gentle my voice. “Dad, if you do this, I will never forgive you.”

“I neither want nor need forgiveness from you. Stop acting like a child and grow up.” He hangs up, not giving me a chance to respond. I stare at my phone, stunned by his words and the vehemence behind them. For my entire life, my mother has done nothing to pollute or discourage my relationship with my father; if anything, she encouraged me to foster our relationship. That is until Marina assumed the role of daughter and pushed me into a guest role in my childhood home.

I look down at my phone, debating whether or not I should call him back and demand that he listen to me. I weigh the option of getting in my beat-up car, driving to his affluent neighborhood, and staining his doorstep with my presence until he sees reason and leaves my childhood home—my sanctuary—alone. But I know, as sure as I know that the hands of a clock always move forward, that my father will never be rational. At least, not about this.

A knock on the door disrupts my musings, and I throw my phone on the couch before making my way to the peephole. Part of me hopes that it’s Wolf, that he didn’t mean his parting comment of, “Stop kissing me,” and has come back to ravage me and stake his claim. I may be smart, but a girl can daydream, even if it’s about something as probable as tigers dancing in the ballet.

Looking through the glass hole, I’m surprised to see Ava and Celeste on the other side of my door, holding a tray of coffee and bags from JJ’s Diner, the restaurant on campus that serves breakfast all day and boasts New Jersey staples like pork roll and omelets with fresh tomatoes. I unlatch the door and am instantly enveloped in a large hug.

I breathe in Ava’s soft scent, finding comfort in my friend’s arms. “This is quite a reception.”

“If you ever give me a scare like that again, I will force Celeste on you and chain you to my ankle for the rest of your damn life, Serena. What the fuck happened on Friday?” Ava asks, squeezing me tighter until there’s barely any space left between our bodies.

“Ava, you’re suffocating me,” I choke out.

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