Page 59 of 10 Things I Hate About Prom
I’d already called Tío Tony this morning to ask if I could borrow one of his cars for the day. Thank God my uncle is a fanatic car collector, because I can’t imagine Mami would just hand over the keys to ours when we haven’t been speaking.
“O-okay,” Isabella replies, more shuffling as I’m assuming she gets up and starts to force herself to wake up. “I’ll be ready. Text me when you leave.”
I give her my word and end the call, throwing my bag overmy shoulder and rushing out of my room to head to Tío Tony’s when I’m stopped by an unexpected sight: Mami, waiting for me in the living room.
She jumps up from her spot on the couch as soon as I come out of my room, her cheeks unusually flushed. “Hi!” she says enthusiastically, as if she hasn’t spent the past two weeks avoiding me.
“Hi…,” I reply cautiously. I’d been banking on her being asleep until at least noon after last night’s shift so I could head out of the house without questioning. If this is some kind of prank show where I’m about to get my ass handed to me by a D-list celebrity, I’m not afraid to jump out the window, die, and haunt my mother for the rest of her life.
“I thought we could sit and talk.” She gestures to the couch where Nurse Oatmeal is passed out on a chewed-up throw pillow.
“I was about to head out, actually.” I point my thumb at the door.
“Oh…” Mami’s voice is a hollow echo. Everything about her seems on edge—the usual confidence she exudes as she floats from room to room stripped down to a person I haven’t seen before.
When she doesn’t say anything else, I try taking a step toward the door, but her voice halts me in my tracks.
“I broke up with Carlos,” she blurts out unexpectedly.
Unsure of what kind of reaction she wants, I give a noncommittal shrug. “That sucks,” I say, even though I have no idea who Carlos is. Her dates have blended together.
She steps away from the couch to approach me, slowly atfirst. When I don’t lash out, she closes the distance, not touching me but holding me in place with the intensity in her eyes.
“I broke up with all of them, Ive. Deleted the apps, blocked the websites. All of it.”
Now it’s my turn to respond with a hollow “Oh.” Moments ago, I’d been dead set on getting out of here, but the plan falls away when IseeMami. The lack of makeup and flair, the dark circles under her eyes. “Why?” I ask before I can let hope spark in my chest.
She takes another step forward and reaches for me, slowly enough to give me a chance to pull back. At first, I want to. While guilt about the way I shouted at her has been eating away at me, I’d be lying if I said there isn’t a small part of me that is still angry. Sure, I could’ve found a gentler, more civilized way of telling Mami how I felt, but that doesn’t mean those feelings weren’t valid. I resist the urge to run away from her, to slam the door and leave and go finish mending one bridge before facing another, and let her take my hand.
“Because you were right.” She holds my hand in both of hers. “When I asked you if you were open to me dating again, I said I would take things slow, and I didn’t. I got wrapped up in the thrill of men being interested in me again that I lost sight of what was always most important to me.” She inhales sharply, her lower lip quivering. “I didn’t realize that I was hurting you. You should’ve been my first priority.”
The sight of Mami on the brink of tears makes my entire body clench up. It’s not the first time I’ve seen her cry, but knowing it was because of me digs the wound deeper. But it comeswith relief too. A calm in knowing that I wasn’t off base in getting upset, and, more importantly, I have hope. A tiny seed planted in the pit of my stomach at the thought of having my mom back again.
The Very Adult thing to do would be to say something profound and wise that would both impress Mami and convince her to forgive me for the shitty things I’d said.
Instead, I start bawling.
Mami jumps back and lets go of my hand like I’m a ticking time bomb. “Mija, what’s wrong?” she coos from a safe distance, carefully resting a hand on my back when I double over from the sheer force of my sobs.
Once the floodgates open, they’re impossible to close. Every bottled-up emotion from the past three weeks spills out and I have to wrap my arms around myself just to keep steady. Pain and guilt and fear pour down my cheeks, my entire body shaking as Mami pulls me in for the type of hug I’ve needed for months. Warm, and soft, and comforting. A piece of my life I thought I’d lost.
“Things are so screwed up right now,” I choke out between sobs, burying my snot-covered face in Mami’s hoodie.
“Oh, Ive,” she whispers into my hair, rubbing slow, soothing circles along my back.
My concept of time vanishes as Mami ushers me back toward the couch, the urgency melting away as we sink onto the cushions. Mami doesn’t push, running a hand through my hair as I let out the last of my wails, my shoulders vibrating with each wave. I release everything, sobbing until my body has been bled dry ofmoisture. My cheeks are damp, my throat is raw, and my eyes feel swollen to the size of golf balls, but it’s the best I’ve felt in weeks. With Mami’s fingers playing with the ends of my hair, and the smell of her perfume on the collar of her hoodie, it’s impossible not to feel safe here. And maybe that’s what I’ve been missing this entire time, why I felt so lost and angry and bitter.
I’d lost my safe spaces.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Mami begins when my sobs have simmered down to sniffles. “But I’m always here to listen if you do. Always.”
I nod, wiping the snot from my face with the back of my sleeve.
“It’s kind of a long story,” I mumble. Way to make Mami’s apology about me and my baggage instead.Great job, Ivelisse. You’re really learning how to not be a self-centered individual.
Mami smiles, leaning in closer to take my hands into her lap. “I’ve got time.”
I don’t. But I tell her everything anyway. From Joaquin telling me he wanted to prompose to Tessa to the ways I made sure his plan would fall apart to finally finding the courage to tell him how I felt, only for everything to crumble before I could even get the words out of my mouth.
