Page 60 of 10 Things I Hate About Prom
“Wow…,” Mami whispers once I finish the story with a shaky breath. “You’ve had a busy month.”
That’s an understatement.
“Things with Joaquin will sort themselves out,” Mami continues, smoothing my hair. “I know you two have never dealt with anything like this before, but you’re best friends. You’ve knowneach other your whole lives—you don’t just throw that relationship away over one argument.”
“But it’s bigger than that,” I protest, hands trembling at the thought of never getting to tease, laugh, or drive somewhere pointless with Joaquin again. “I was selfish, and I ruined his big chance at asking out the girl he likes because I couldn’t be honest about how I felt. Best friends don’t do that.”
Mami nods solemnly, patting my hand. “You’re young, Ive. I know it seems like this one mistake is going to define you, and I’m not saying what you did is okay, but you have a lot of growing to do. If you knew about the tontería I got up to when I was in high school…” She whistles. “Trust me, it’s a long list of foolishness, and none of it is pretty.”
While her reassurance is comforting, the same fear that’s kept me from entertaining any thought of romance doesn’t fade—if Mami and Papi couldn’t make it work, why would anyone else? If anything, the fear festers and swells. Growing and growing until the words are tumbling out before I can stop them.
“But what if it doesn’t work out and we end up like you and Papi?”
I clamp my hands over my mouth, wishing I could scoop the words back up and shovel them down my throat. Mami and I finally decided to bridge the gap between us, and I take a sledgehammer to everything we’d built.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I—”
Mami raises her hand, cutting me off before I can finish my rambling apology. She can probably hear the thud of my heart as she lets go of my hand, the kindness I’d seen in her eyes aminute ago replaced by that same vacant and hollow sadness that haunted her the year Papi left.
Just like that, my huge mouth has ruined everything again.
“Your dad and I were never perfect. But we knew things weren’t working for a long time,” Mami says after what feels like a thousand years of silence. “And we danced around it for years, thinking about what’d be best for you, and hoping we could change things, but…” She sighs, shrugging helplessly. “I guess he got tired of waiting for something to be different.”
Her voice is so small it makes me want to hug her tight and never let go, but I’m worried even the lightest touch will breakher.
“Relationships take work, but no two are the same. Yes, we met when we were young, too, but that doesn’t mean anything for you.” Tears glaze her brown eyes when she faces me. “Not if you don’t let it.”
Hesitantly, I embrace her, waiting until I’m sure she wants me that close. It’s meant to make her feel better, but the warmth calms my racing heart.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, steadier this time. “For the way I lashed out at you, and for being moody and sulky instead of telling you what I was thinking before I let everything blow up. I missed you. And I should’ve simply said that.”
Mami shakes her head as she dabs at the corners of her eyes. “You were right, though. I’m the parent, and your dad didn’t hurt just me by running off. It’s my job to take care of you, to make sure you’re okay. I lost sight of that, and I’m sorry.” She leans in. “But that’s gonna change now. Okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper.
Before I can launch myself into her arms for another hug, she holds up a finger and starts backing away. “I got you something.”
My brow furrows as she darts behind the couch, reemerging with a white paper bag—a sense of déjà vu washing over me. Once again, I’m unwrapping something covered in tissue paper, but this time the contents don’t make my stomach drop.
Because it’s a Sarah Lawrence hoodie.
“Ta-da!” Mami exclaims before whipping off her zip-up hoodie to reveal a greenSarah Lawrence MomT-shirt. “We can still match on move-in day!”
This time, I don’t hesitate, and throw myself right into her arms.
Chapter Twenty
The upside of thetiming of my reconciliation with Mami is I’m able to borrow her car after all. Driving our Subaru is a much better option than cruising down to DC in Tío Tony’s spare neon-red ’90s Mustang. The downside, I immediately hit traffic. Why the hell did everyone in the tristate area decide to drive down to DC at 11:00a.m. on a Saturday?!
After sitting in gridlock traffic for almost an hour, I finally make it to the New Jersey Turnpike, just to—you guessed it—sit in even more traffic. The car fan is blasting cool air directly onto my face but I still feel white-hot all over. If I don’t start moving soon, there’s no way I’ll be able to make it to DC and back in time for the game. If I’m lucky, maybe we can catch a portion of it. But that depends on whether any of the cars in front of me move sometime this century.
Just when wefinallystart to move, my celebratory dance is cut short by a jolt of surprise when my music cuts off and a call from Doña Carmen comes in.
“Hello?” I answer quickly, worried that something may have happened while I’ve been gone.
“So, I hear you’re on your way to DC,” she replies in lieu of a greeting.
“Well, right now I’m stuck in traffic, but in theory, yes. How did—”
