Chapter 48

The party was buzzing with energy. Relatives were dancing in the living room, the porch was filled with guys downing beers, and women chattered around my mother, not noticing that she couldn’t understand. Alonzo and José were setting the table while Lilly’s mom helped my aunt cook in the kitchen. My parents were stunned at the spectacle and for the first time I realized what I must have looked like the day I arrived—shocked, scared and uptight. Now, all this activity seemed commonplace and these people felt like family. This was no longer strange.

Alex was in the kitchen getting me another soda. My parents thought it was nice I’d made a “friend,” and they utterly ignored the fact that he held my hand. I had never dated before, and I think they were in denial that I might have started to while they weren’t looking.

I hadn’t broken the news yet. I was waiting for the right moment, when we could be alone. But there was always someone approaching my dad to talk about old times. He was busy remembering his Spanish and trying to translate on my mother’s behalf. We barely had time to catch up. I fidgeted with my hands, an impassionate smile plastered on my face.

Just then, Uncle Miguel emerged from the kitchen and yelled to me in Spanish that a car had pulled up, and that there was “una mujer especial” in front of the house.

My father turned to me to translate, only I was busy replying, in perfect Spanish, that I wasn’t ready. “Necesito un momento, por favor,” I said.

“Whoa, I guess a lot changed while you were here,” he said, smiling.

“Yeah, it did, Dad, which is what I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

“You know, I’m really proud of you, Mariana. Both you and Vince.” He nodded out to the porch, where my brother was chatting with Lilly’s dad, Juan. “You both have grown up a lot.”

“We have Dad, but I need to talk to you about something else.”

“Mariana, I’m sorry we didn’t listen to you before planning this trip,” my mom said. “I know Madison’s party was important to you—”

“Mom, I don’t really want to talk about that right now,” I stated quickly, my eyes focused on the porch door, praying it would stay shut just a little longer.

“It’s just I saw the write-up about her party in the paper, about that actor who showed up, and I know you must be angry at us for having missed out on that. . . .”

“Really, Mom, it’s no big deal. I had fun at Lilly’s Quinceañera. Seriously, I did. Probably more than I would’ve had at Madison’s party, even with Orlando Bloom. But that’s not really the point right now. I need to tell you guys something important—”

Before I could finish, the porch door swung open and in walked a familiar face. She was tall and thin, with a pointed slender nose and small brown eyes. Her dark red hair waved in the breeze and fell to the top of her white summer dress. I could now clearly see the family resemblance. Teresa was my grandfather’s daughter.

“Dad, I have to tell you something,” I quickly said under my breath, only he wasn’t listening.

He slowly walked to the porch door and stopped in front of Teresa. She extended her hand politely.

“Lorenzo. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“I’m so glad you came,” he replied.

My jaw dropped toward the floor. I gawked, my breath held tight in my lungs as the blood rushed to my feet.

“Hello, again, Mariana,” she said, turning to me with an easy grin.

I said nothing.

“I see you already met my daughter.” My father then gestured to my mom. “And this is my wife, Irina.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” my mom said politely.

What? Since when? My brain felt moments from exploding.

“Dad, what’s going on? I mean, um, do you know who this is?” I gasped, my face contorted in an uncomfortable shape.

“Uh, Mariana, there’s something I need to tell you . . .” he started.

“About Teresa? ’Cause I already got the rundown from some drunk at a bar. Glad to see I panicked myself over how to tell you, for nothing. Have you known this whole time?”

Teresa coughed awkwardly and took a step back. I doubted she was offended. I had already called her child the spawn of Satan, so there wasn’t really much worse I could dish out.

“Mariana, this is Teresa . . . your aunt. She and I spoke for the first time last week. It’s a long story,” he responded calmly.