Page 28 of Last First Kiss
ALEJANDRA
After talking to Clara last night, I realized I need to tell my mom the truth about us. I should’ve thought it through sooner, but I didn’t. Now, the longer I wait, the worse I feel. Clara’s basically a daughter to her, and judging by how my grandma reacted, she’s probably celebrating along with the whole family. That’s why I can’t let her keep believing it’s real. I need to make this right, for Clara.
When I get to my mom’s house, I knock on the door, my heart already thudding. I don’t usually knock; I have a key, but this allows me to take a moment to ground myself and try to control my nerves. I don’t really know why I’m so nervous.
The door swings open, and there she is—her long, dark brown hair peppered with silver falling in waves past her elbows, with that same bright smile lighting up her face.
“Hi, honey, I wasn’t expecting you.” She pulls me into a one-armed hug, the other carefully holding a spatula coated in something that smells like vanilla far away from us.
“Sorry, Mami,” I mumble. “I should’ve called. I just ... I needed to talk toyou.”
She frowns slightly but shakes her head. “No, no. Come in.”
I follow her into the kitchen, where the counter is covered in flour, bowls, and blobs of sticky batter. Lately, she’s gotten into making sourdough from scratch—something about patience, process, and feeding a starter every day like it’s a pet. Honestly, it fits her.
“So, what brings you over looking so guilty?” Mom asks as she throws some flour on the counter. Straight to the point, as always.
“Have you talked to Lala by chance?” I gulp, trying to keep my voice steady. I’ve never really lied to my mom before, and the guilt settles heavily in my chest.
“I have.” She furrows her eyebrows. “Is she okay?” she asks, worry creeping into her voice.
“Yeah, she’s fine. She’s at the house with Clara.”
“What is it then? You’re worrying me, kid.”
“Did she tell you Clara and I are dating?” I ask abruptly.
“She did.” Mom wipes her hands on a dish towel.
I take a deep breath and say, “Well, we aren’t.”
Mom frowns. “Yeah ... I figured. You’re this shaken up over that?” she asks, her voice soft.
“Wait, how?” I stare at her.
I was sure this would be a surprise. Everyone else seemed to hop on board with us dating so easily, like it made perfect sense. So, why is my mom the only one who isn’t?
She turns her attention back to the ball of dough in front of her, kneading it and folding it. “You assume I don’t know my kid? I’d like to think that if my daughter started dating her best friend, the one who’s practically family, she’d pick up the phone and tell me herself.”
“But you didn’t say anything.”
“I figured if there were something to tell, you’d tell me when you were ready.” She points at me with a wooden spoon. “And here you are.”
I let out a quiet laugh.
“What I don’t understand is why you are lying to Lala about this,” she says, turning back to her dough.
“She kind of cornered us into it.” explain how Lala tricked us into speed dating and how I hopped on board with Clara’s lie.
Mom laughs. “I can’t even blame you guys. I’ve talked to her so many times about this, but she’s impossible to get through to.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Why’d you tell her you were dating Clara, though?” She tilts her head slightly. “Weren’t there other people you could’ve asked? Like, someone from one of those dates your grandma was so excited to set you up on?”
“Yeah, I guess I could have. The thought did cross my mind, but I didn’t think she’d buy it.”
Plus, there wasn’t anyone from those setups I wanted to see again, and if I was supposed to pretend to love this person, I should at least like them or tolerate being around them.
