Chapter 48

Malena! Where’s the letter?”

Malena felt like screaming. Between her new boss’s demands and the elusive typewriter keys, she would not survive another day in this office.

“It’s almost ready, Señor!”

She pulled the paper out of the platen and studied it. The writing was crooked and there were several strokes throughout. She couldn’t hand him this. What had possessed her to tell Mr. Ramirez that although she’d never been a secretary, she would nail this job in a couple of days?

Despair, really.

She needed money for food and rent, but she also needed to get away from her apartment, away from her thoughts, and especially away from that monster called loneliness. Just like she’d suspected, she’d been expelled from nursing school and this secretarial job was the only thing she could find with her limited skill set.

It had been two weeks since she left San Isidro, and the memories of that place—of her family—still haunted her. Although she’d been relieved that the truth was finally out—the fall had not been as bad as she’d anticipated—the pain of their rejection was a tough burden to carry. It would have been preferable not to meet them at all than to lose them after she’d found them. Especially in such a disgraceful way.

She inserted another piece of paper in the typewriter. Mr. Ramirez had trusted her enough to give her the position (although she suspected his decision had more to do with her legs than her promises). But regardless of his reasons, she couldn’t let him down.

It took her ten more minutes to finish the letter, but this time, there were only two mistakes. Mr. Ramirez’s nod signaled that it was good enough, for now, and she could go home. In a way, she was glad to leave late. The later she arrived to her apartment, the faster the night would end. She was sick of those long hours staring at the ceiling fan with no more company than her father’s records. Her only diversion was Julia with one of her antidepressant teas or a plate of humitas. But even her best friend couldn’t fill the empty spot in her chest.

Once home, Malena removed her shoes and dumped her purse on the couch, too tired to explore the kitchen and see if there was anything to nibble on. She sat down and rested her feet on the coffee table. She pictured the distraught faces of her aunts, her grandmother, and her mother the evening they found out about her deceit. She pressed her forehead. When would those images leave her mind?

She had to find a way to forget.

There was a soft knock on the door. Thank God for Julia to save her from her misery!

Malena opened the door, but instead of Julia’s gigantic hair and a plate of warm food, she encountered Alejandra. She looked older today—maybe it was the makeup—and she was wearing a skirt.

“Good evening,” Alejandra said. “Sorry for coming this late, but I just arrived into town.”

Malena never imagined having her mother here, in her humble apartment.

Her mother—she still couldn’t get used to the idea of Alejandra being her mother.

“May I come in?”

Malena took a step back, still holding on to the doorknob. As Alejandra entered, she scanned the room. Malena stumbled on her shoes and picked up her purse. The one day her mother visited, she had a mess in the living room!

“Would you like a cup of té de tilo?” It was Julia’s new thing to fight insomnia—though Malena spent every night awake as an owl.

“Yes, please.”

Malena followed Alejandra’s gaze around the room: to the cracked paint in the spot where wall and ceiling met, to the faded beige curtains that Julia had promised to replace soon, to the red couch where Malena’s father used to read the newspaper, to the fan on top of the dining room table making a steady hum in a desperate attempt to beat the heat. Alejandra picked up a hideous black-and-white photograph of Malena as a teenager—the one she’d never brought herself to throw away for her father had loved it—and touched the glass with the tips of her fingers.

“You have a lovely place,” Alejandra said.

Lovely? Surely she was just trying to make her feel better. Compared to the Platas home, this place was a rat’s hole.

“Thanks.”

Malena went into the kitchen and fumbled with the herbs and the teapot, unable to control her movements and her breathing. She dropped the herbs on the floor and spilled the water, but somehow she managed to prepare a decent cup of tea.

In the living room, Alejandra was still holding Malena’s portrait. They sat next to each other, cups in hand, and an excruciating silence settled between them. There were wrinkles surrounding Alejandra’s eyes, and gray hairs scattered throughout her short hair.

Malena spoke first. “How did you know where to find me?”

“Sebastian had your address. He found it among Cesar Villamizar’s things.” Alejandra’s voice hardened when she mentioned the man’s name.

Sebastian was another person Malena had been trying—uselessly—to forget. So he knew where to find her but hadn’t bothered to come see her?

“So Sebastian told you about my father? About what that man did to him?”

Alejandra nodded. “I wish things hadn’t turned out the way they did for you and your father. I’m so sorry.”

“Did you know who I was all along?”

Alejandra stirred her spoon in circles, as if debating whether to take a sip or not. “No. I only figured it out the day of Claudia’s wedding, after I saw your pendant.”

Malena brought her hand to her pendant and felt it through her cotton blouse. It was there, as always.

“It’s the first piece of jewelry I ever made,” Alejandra said. “I mailed it to Eva after you were born. I wanted you to have something from me.”

“She never told me it was yours.” Malena’s voice faltered. There was so much she wanted to ask, but she was afraid she’d start crying if she talked more. Now that she could cry again, she seemed to do it for the most idiotic reasons.

“I wish I had recognized you when you arrived in San Isidro. I should have known who you were. You have my sister’s hair.” Alejandra gazed at the lime Telefunken radio on the console table. “And then, you were constantly asking questions, wanting to know everything about us.”

Malena took a sip of her tea.

“The day of Claudia’s wedding,” Alejandra said, “after you left the room, she and I had a talk. She told me who you were, she showed me the letters she’d found in your suitcase, and asked me if I knew who your mother was.” She looked up for a second. “I told her it was me. I wanted to talk to you about it right away, but with the wedding and then the cancellation, I didn’t have time. And then, that damn Rafael had to send you away. Ana was so upset she threw him out of the house.”

“Ana did that?”

Alejandra smiled for an instant.

“But there’s something I don’t understand,” Malena said. “Javier told me Abigail was pregnant. He saw her stomach.”

“Yes. She was pregnant, too.” Alejandra finally took a sip. “And she had a daughter of her own, except that she had the fortune to watch her grow.”

A daughter of her own? Of course, how could she not see it?

“Claudia,” Malena said.

Alejandra nodded.

“That’s why Abigail asked you to burn her diary, to protect Victor.”

“Yes.”

“And you? Who did you want to protect?”

Alejandra set her cup on the coffee table.

“Why didn’t you marry my father? Didn’t you love him?”

“I loved him with all my heart, but I was a coward. I should have fought for our love. Things would have been so different for all of us if I had.”

Malena was quiet for a moment. For days, she’d been pondering what she would say to Alejandra if she ever saw her again—planning every word, every question. Mostly, she needed to know if her suspicions about her father were true. But now that she had her mother within touching distance, the words were stuck in her throat. She ingested a generous drink of her tea to moisten her palate.

The words finally came out. “Why did my father kill your cousin?”

“Your father was …” A tear slipped down Alejandra’s cheek. “Enrique was a wonderful man. You should never doubt his honesty, his integrity, or that he adored you. My cousin …” She clutched one of the flower-print cushions on the couch. “He was what you would call a bad seed. I always considered him a brother, but he didn’t love me the same way. As I came to find out, he saw me as something other than a cousin.” Alejandra struggled to get the next words out. “That night, when I was waiting for Enrique at the workshop, Fausto came to the store.” Her voice broke. “He was drunk. He …”

Malena reached out for her mother’s hand. “You don’t have to say any more. I suspected something like this.”

Alejandra dropped her gaze.

The tears stung Malena’s eyes. “After I learned that my father had killed Fausto and you confessed you were my mother, I knew he must have had a powerful reason to do what he did. He was a gentle man, but he had a strong sense of justice and he was loyal. He once told me he believed killing was not wrong if you did it to defend someone you loved. That story in the newspaper about the robbery never made sense to me.”

“You knew him well, in spite of everything he hid from you.”

“Yes.” Malena pulled her shoulders back. “And to me, he will always be my father.”

“You are stronger than I thought.” Alejandra squeezed Malena’s hand. “One of the reasons I gave you away was because I was afraid of this moment. I thought the truth would devastate you. I always regretted my decision to leave you, but I was unfit to take care of you then.”

Malena stared at her mother’s closed fist.

“I tried to find you after your grandmother Eva passed away, when you were still a little girl, but I didn’t have any luck. Your father left El Milagro for good, and never looked for me again.”

“We lived in many different places. We only settled in Guayaquil a couple of years ago. My father really liked it here.”

Alejandra’s eyes brightened. “It doesn’t surprise me. He always talked about doing something with his life. Sebastian showed me the newspaper article about his book.”

“Yes, he dedicated a lot of time to that book. I’ll show it to you.” She attempted to get up, but Alejandra softly pulled on her arm.

“Please stay. You’ll show it to me later. Now I want to see you, to know you. I never imagined I would have such a pretty daughter.” She cupped Malena’s chin with one hand. “Malena,” she said. “The name suits you.”

“Amanda must have thought of it.”

“No. Amanda had nothing to do with it. The year you were born was the year that tango was written. I heard it in a movie while I was pregnant and I immediately fell in love with the song.” Alejandra held Malena’s hand again—it transmitted warmth. “I don’t blame you if you never want to see me again or if you never forgive me. But I want to ask you just one thing, one small favor, if you will.”

“What?”

“Come with me to San Isidro. Mamá Blanca wants to see you. She’s very sad about the way you left and misses you terribly. She hasn’t gotten out of bed since you left.”

The truth was Malena missed the entire family, too, but the idea of returning to San Isidro meant opening up her wounds again, the ones already healing here.

“At least think about it,” Alejandra said. “I’ll come back in the morning to see what you decided.”

Malena stepped out of the cab, tightening her purse against her side, adjusting her collar. She hesitated as the cab drove away, but told herself she had come all the way to San Isidro for this, and she couldn’t back down. She wasn’t the girl who’d come here scared and insecure. She wasn’t alone anymore.

Straightening her back, she followed her mother into the house. Alejandra held her hand as she led her into the foyer, the way it should have been when Malena was small.

“Welcome home,” Amanda told her from the foot of the stairs, stretching her arms out to her.

“Amanda.”

“Tía Amanda,” she corrected her. The two of them hugged and Amanda kissed her forehead. “We’ve missed you.”

Ana, followed by Trinidad, came out of the kitchen.

“I’m so glad you came,” Ana said. “Your grandmother is waiting for you.”

Your grandmother. Malena never imagined the Platas sisters to be this welcoming to her after her deceit.

Holding her hand, Amanda led her up the stairs. Malena recognized the scent of the lemon detergent Trinidad used to scrub the floors, the squeaky sound the wood made under her feet. Her legs tensed as she walked past Claudia’s door, but continued down the hall flanked by her mother and aunts, and the loyal Trinidad behind them.

Alejandra opened her mother’s bedroom door. Javier rose from the chair by Mamá Blanca’s bed and smiled at Malena. Mamá Blanca looked up from her knitting. The lines in her forehead released.

“You came.” She extended her arms to her. Malena approached her. Mamá Blanca hugged her. “I’m so glad. This house is not the same without you.”

Malena realized she’d been holding her breath.

After her grandmother let her go, Malena sat on the bed.

“I’m sorry for what I said that day about your father.” Mamá Blanca glanced at Alejandra. “But my daughter already explained some things to me.”

Mamá Blanca’s eyes filled with tears. The room was silent for a moment, gloomy expressions all around. Malena felt the pressure in her own throat.

Her grandmother caressed her cheek. “You’re staying with us, right?”

“I don’t know.”

Mamá Blanca squeezed her hand. “Please. I don’t want to lose all my grandchildren at once.”

“All?” So Malena’s suspicions were true. Claudia had finally married Sebastian.

“Javier is going to Guayaquil with the band,” her grandmother said.

“Yes,” Javier said with a wide smile. “We got an offer to play at a nightclub there.”

“That’s wonderful.” Malena said. She hesitated for a moment, but she had to know, sooner or later. “And Claudia?”

Alejandra spoke. “The day of her wedding I told her about Abigail and Victor, too. She decided to go find her real father. She hasn’t been back yet.”

Ana’s face was surprisingly serene at the mention of Claudia’s fate. “This morning we received a letter from her,” Ana said. “She said she was fine, but doesn’t know when she’ll be back.”

“So as you see,” Mamá Blanca said. “We need you here.”

Malena looked at the faces staring back at her, ready to tell them her decision.