heart.”
“I must speak with her, Luis.”
“Fine. Fine! And if your poor old grandmother has a heart attack, you will feel guilty the rest of your life. Yes? Is that what you want?”
“Luis, I’m begging you.” Her voice was ragged as she said the last words.
He didn’t say anything else. A moment later, her grandmother came back on the line.
“Andrea, it’s time for this nonsense to end. I didn’t raise you to be disobedient, I expect you to—”
Andrea interrupted. “Why did you never tell me my mother was raped? And that my father is not Richard Thompson?”
Her grandmother said, “Is your mother telling those lies again? I am so disappointed in her. She was not raped. Her father, he let that man touch her—”
“ Stop! ” Andrea whispered. Hot tears ran down her face, a sudden pang of disappointment gouging a hole in her heart. “Did you force her to marry him? Did you?”
“Of course not. I would never do such a thing. She threw herself after that man.”
“You lie ,” Andrea cried out. The tears were running freely now. “He raped her, Abuelita. He did.”
“It’s not true! Your mother lies to you! You know you cannot trust her.”
“ She didn’t tell me,” Andrea whispered. “ She didn’t. My father did. My real father. And the police report. He did it again. After they were married. More than once.”
Her grandmother gasped. “Where do you get these crazy ideas? Your real father? I don’t know what—”
“Did you know he was coming? When he showed up at Miguel’s wedding? And on the beach? At my concert?”
Abuelita didn’t answer. On the other end of the line, her breathing was hoarse. “Andrea…” she finally whispered.
“ Why?” Andrea said.
“She was lying .” Her grandmother repeated the words again, and again, as if saying the words repeatedly just might make them true. As if saying those words was a talisman that would protect her from what she’d done to her own daughter. “She was lying. ”
“No, Grandmother,” Andrea said. “She wasn’t. And that changed everything. It ruined her life, and it twisted all of her daughters’ lives.”
“No,” her grandmother whispered. Andrea heard the phone thump against the table a continent away. She waited, thinking Luis would pick it up. She waited, but no one ever picked up the line. After five minutes, the knife-edge tone of the off-hook signal sliced through the silence into her chest, cutting her loose from the only family she’d ever trusted.
Adelina. July 5, 1994 .
It was nearing midnight when Adelina drove the last few blocks to her mother’s flat in Calella. Even though she hadn’t been here for more than a decade, the blocks surrounding the flat were familiar. She had few good memories here.
Adelina had come to live with her mother after her father, Juan Ramos, had been murdered, most likely by her now husband. She’d spent those weeks in terrible pain and grief, occasionally walking or sitting for hours along the beach. She could still taste the bitterness of her tears in those months. It took her years to reach any internal peace about her mother’s role in her marriage. If she had any at all. Whatever peace she once had was shredded by driving down these streets.
All three girls were asleep. Julia was still curled up against the window, her tape long since ended. Carrie was halfway sprawled across the back seat, and Alexandra was asleep in her car seat, pacifier in her mouth. Adelina brought the car to a stop half a block from her mother’s flat, and with tired eyes she stared up at the windows, which were undoubtedly open this time of year to let a breeze through. The windows were dark—everyone had gone to sleep, she supposed, even though they knew when Adelina would be arriving.
That was a bitter thought. She hadn’t seen her mother or brother in a dozen years. The least they could do was stay up past dinner time. But then she saw a shadow pass in front of the window, and a
“I must speak with her, Luis.”
“Fine. Fine! And if your poor old grandmother has a heart attack, you will feel guilty the rest of your life. Yes? Is that what you want?”
“Luis, I’m begging you.” Her voice was ragged as she said the last words.
He didn’t say anything else. A moment later, her grandmother came back on the line.
“Andrea, it’s time for this nonsense to end. I didn’t raise you to be disobedient, I expect you to—”
Andrea interrupted. “Why did you never tell me my mother was raped? And that my father is not Richard Thompson?”
Her grandmother said, “Is your mother telling those lies again? I am so disappointed in her. She was not raped. Her father, he let that man touch her—”
“ Stop! ” Andrea whispered. Hot tears ran down her face, a sudden pang of disappointment gouging a hole in her heart. “Did you force her to marry him? Did you?”
“Of course not. I would never do such a thing. She threw herself after that man.”
“You lie ,” Andrea cried out. The tears were running freely now. “He raped her, Abuelita. He did.”
“It’s not true! Your mother lies to you! You know you cannot trust her.”
“ She didn’t tell me,” Andrea whispered. “ She didn’t. My father did. My real father. And the police report. He did it again. After they were married. More than once.”
Her grandmother gasped. “Where do you get these crazy ideas? Your real father? I don’t know what—”
“Did you know he was coming? When he showed up at Miguel’s wedding? And on the beach? At my concert?”
Abuelita didn’t answer. On the other end of the line, her breathing was hoarse. “Andrea…” she finally whispered.
“ Why?” Andrea said.
“She was lying .” Her grandmother repeated the words again, and again, as if saying the words repeatedly just might make them true. As if saying those words was a talisman that would protect her from what she’d done to her own daughter. “She was lying. ”
“No, Grandmother,” Andrea said. “She wasn’t. And that changed everything. It ruined her life, and it twisted all of her daughters’ lives.”
“No,” her grandmother whispered. Andrea heard the phone thump against the table a continent away. She waited, thinking Luis would pick it up. She waited, but no one ever picked up the line. After five minutes, the knife-edge tone of the off-hook signal sliced through the silence into her chest, cutting her loose from the only family she’d ever trusted.
Adelina. July 5, 1994 .
It was nearing midnight when Adelina drove the last few blocks to her mother’s flat in Calella. Even though she hadn’t been here for more than a decade, the blocks surrounding the flat were familiar. She had few good memories here.
Adelina had come to live with her mother after her father, Juan Ramos, had been murdered, most likely by her now husband. She’d spent those weeks in terrible pain and grief, occasionally walking or sitting for hours along the beach. She could still taste the bitterness of her tears in those months. It took her years to reach any internal peace about her mother’s role in her marriage. If she had any at all. Whatever peace she once had was shredded by driving down these streets.
All three girls were asleep. Julia was still curled up against the window, her tape long since ended. Carrie was halfway sprawled across the back seat, and Alexandra was asleep in her car seat, pacifier in her mouth. Adelina brought the car to a stop half a block from her mother’s flat, and with tired eyes she stared up at the windows, which were undoubtedly open this time of year to let a breeze through. The windows were dark—everyone had gone to sleep, she supposed, even though they knew when Adelina would be arriving.
That was a bitter thought. She hadn’t seen her mother or brother in a dozen years. The least they could do was stay up past dinner time. But then she saw a shadow pass in front of the window, and a
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