I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter

by Erika L. Sánchez

  I wonder how much it would cost to spend the night here. Probably hundreds, maybe thousands.

  Angie is at the front desk, which is what I was hoping, wearing a navy blue pantsuit that makes her look ten years older. Her wild hair is drawn into a tight ponytail, and her makeup is muted and faint. Maybe the dress code requires them to look as dull as humanly possible.

  Angie, of course, is surprised to see me.

  “Oh my God, what are you doing here?” She sets down the phone.

  “It’s so nice to see you, too, Angie. It’s been too long, really.”

  Angie sighs. “How are you?”

  “Oh, I’m just wonderful.”

  “I can’t really talk right now. I’m working, as you can see.” She rubs her neck and looks around nervously.

  “You don’t have time to talk to me about Olga’s pregnancy and married boyfriend?” I smile.

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Let’s go get some coffee.” Angie grabs her purse and turns to her blond coworker at the end of the counter. “Melissa, I’ll be back soon. Taking a quick break.”

  —

  When we settle in a corner table in the coffee shop across the street, Angie searches inside her purse and puts on another coat of pale lipstick, using her phone as a mirror. She doesn’t say anything. She must be waiting for me to go first, so I just sip my coffee and let her squirm for a while.

  “So why didn’t you tell me? You knew this whole time,” I finally say. “Why would you do that to me? I’m her fucking sister, Angie.”

  “What would anyone gain from that? She’s gone. She’s never coming back. What difference would that have made? Why would your family want to know that about her? It would have devastated them. Maybe you’re too young to understand, Julia, but sometimes people don’t need the truth.”

  “Why is everyone always saying that to me? I’m not an imbecile. I have a brain, a pretty good one, too. And they would’ve found out eventually. How was she going to hide a baby coming out of her? ‘Oh, don’t mind this child here. It was a result of immaculate conception.’ Just tell me who he is. I know he worked in her office. You have to tell me. He was a doctor, wasn’t he?”

  Angie shakes her head. “Look, I tried to get her to leave him, for years, but she wouldn’t. There was no stopping her. She was obsessed. You have no idea. It was obvious he was just using her because he was in a miserable marriage, but she couldn’t see that, no matter how many times I tried to explain it to her.”

  “I was even starting to think that you guys were a couple. I didn’t know what to believe.”

  “Wow. Seriously? Me and your sister?”

  “It’s not that ridiculous. I knew you were keeping something from me, and you were always together.”

  Angie looks disgusted.

  “When did you find out about the baby?”

  “Wait, how do you even know about all of this?” She puts both hands on the table.

  “I went through her emails.”

  “Well, that’s kind of messed up.”

  “More messed up than keeping this secret? Than letting me think I was crazy for sensing something was wrong?”

  “Why do you want to know who it is, though? What are you going to do once you find out?”

  “Because I deserve to know. Because I, apparently, had no idea who Olga was. I guess none of us did, except for you and that old guy she was banging. Why was she living like that? Why couldn’t she just have a normal boyfriend and go to school? I don’t get it.”

  “You know Olga never wanted to leave your parents. She would have done anything for them. She always wanted to be a good daughter.”

  I wonder what else Angie knows. I try to read it in her face, but I don’t know what to make of it.

  “They should know about this. It’s not fair to me or to them. How am I going to carry this by myself my whole damn life?”

  “I’m sorry. I understand that it hurts, believe me, but this isn’t about you. This is about protecting those who are still here. Why would you want to cause your family more pain?”

  “Because we shouldn’t be living lies,” I say. “Because they deserve to know. Because I feel like I’m going to explode if I don’t say it. It’s all I can think about. I’m tired of pretending and letting things blister inside me. Keeping things to myself almost killed me. I don’t want to live like that anymore.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Forget it.” Part of me wonders if Angie is right—who am I to do this to my family?—but I hate this feeling, like the weight of this will make my chest collapse.

  Angie wipes the tears from her eyes with her palms. “Some things should never be said out loud, Julia. Can’t you see that?”

  —

  I take another train to Wicker Park to meet Connor at the bookstore. As soon as he sees me, he hands me an old photography book and asks me what it smells like. I press it against my face. “Hmm…A sad man looking out the window as it rains…lamenting a time at the train station. Yeah, that’s it.”

  This makes Connor laugh. “Wow, that’s specific,” he says. “Is he wearing a hat?”

  “Uh-huh. Porkpie.”

  “It’s good to see you,” he says, and hugs me.

  “Lovely to see you, too, sir. I see you have a new hairstyle.” Connor’s shaggy brown hair is now short and neat. It makes him look older.

  He shrugs. “Yeah, I got sick of it one day.”

  “I like it,” I say. “You look distinguished.”

  We walk through the bookstore as we catch up on the last several weeks. We’re laughing and talking so fast that people stare at us as if we’re crazy. I tell him about Isabela and Sebastián, the gay cats, the shooting, Apá’s drawings, Olga’s affair. I’m almost out of breath, trying to cram it all in. I don’t tell him about the hospital, though. I’m not ready to talk about it yet.

  After the bookstore, we walk to the 606. One of the best decisions the city has ever made was to convert an old rail line into an elevated park. The trail spans two and a half miles—from Wicker Park to Humboldt Park—and it has great views of the skyline and neighborhoods below. Though it’s chilly today, there are several people walking and running, some with strollers and dogs. The trees and bushes are mostly bare, but I see a few green blades emerging. Connor and I walk west for a long time without saying anything. As I stare at the graffiti on an abandoned factory with shattered windows, he takes my hand and squeezes it.

  “So what else have you been up to?” I ask. “Any new ladies in your life?” I’m not sure why I say this. Sometimes I blurt out stupid things when I get nervous.

  Connor shakes his head and laughs, but he doesn’t say no. A pulse of jealousy surges through me, even though I try to reason with myself. I had Esteban, after all, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss him.

  “Have you heard from any colleges yet?” he asks.

  “No, not yet. You?”

  “I got into Cornell.” Connor smiles.

  “Holy shit. Congratulations!” I give him a fist bump.

  “Yeah, it’s my top choice. I’m pretty excited.”

  “I applied to some schools in New York City, so maybe we’ll be in the same state.”

  “I can visit you. We can go to museums or Central Park or just eat our way through Manhattan. Oh, and we can visit all the landmarks in The Catcher in the Rye. That would be fucking cool.”

  “Let’s see if I get in first.”

  “You will. You know you will.” Connor says as a guy with a man bun runs past us.

  “Thanks.”

  The sun is beginning to set. A blaze of orange light outlines a giant cloud. I love dusk; it always astonishes me that something so beautiful happens every single day.

  We’re quiet for a long time. “So, what now?” I finally say.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t even know.” I laugh nervously.

  “All I know is that I mi
ssed you.” Connor smiles and hugs me. “And I’m glad to see you.”

  “I missed you, too. What’s going to happen now, though?”

  “We’re both going away to college, right? So let’s just enjoy this without overthinking it. That’s what makes sense to me.” A flock of pigeons flies over us as he takes both of my hands in his.

  “You’re right,” I say, but that’s not the answer I wanted to hear.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Lorena missed her period this month and is terrified she’s pregnant. She took a home-pregnancy test, but it came out all fuzzy, so she made an appointment at a clinic, just to be one hundred percent sure.

  I was only away for two weeks, but so much has happened since I left. Lorena thinks she might be knocked up, Juanga found a hot new boyfriend, and Mr. Ingman got engaged to Ms. López. I don’t know why it surprises me that the world doesn’t stop just because I’m gone.

  —

  On the way to the clinic, the train is so crammed with people that some dude’s butt is right next to my face. Lorena’s knee keeps jerking up and down. She wants to pretend she isn’t nervous, but I notice right away.

  “Are you sure you’re not going to tell Carlos if it’s positive?”

  “Why would I do that? He’d just want me to keep it. I know him. He’d get all sentimental about it and cry or some shit. And there’s no fuckin’ way I’m going to have a baby. I mean, I’m trying to get the hell out of my house and do something with my life, you know? I don’t even like kids. They’re gross.”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t have it, either. I see my cousin with her baby, and it seems like the worst thing that could ever happen. I don’t think she’s even going to finish high school. What kind of job can you get without a diploma?”

  “A shitty one.” Lorena shakes her head.

  “Okay, so say you are pregnant, where are you going to get the money? I mean, I know it’s expensive.”

  “José Luis has a stash of money hidden inside one of his boots in his closet. He thinks I don’t know about it. Dumb ass.”

  “But he’d find out. What would you do then?”

  “Honestly? I don’t care.” Lorena looks down at her chipped red nails.

  A man sitting across from us takes a fork from his garbage bag and uses it as a microphone. The old lady next to him gets up and moves to another seat when he suddenly starts screaming “Thriller” by Michael Jackson. Everyone in the car looks super-irritated. Lorena and I turn to each other and laugh. Trains are disgusting, but at least they’re entertaining.

  —

  The protesters gathered outside scream at us when we approach. They all hold idiotic signs that say things like Abortion is murder and Mommy, why do you want to kill me? Some of the kids are even holding pictures of bloody fetuses. What the hell is wrong with these people?

  “We’ll take care of your baby!” yells a skinny woman with a bowl cut and crooked teeth. “Don’t do it! You’re going to burn in hell!”

  “Get out of our faces. I swear to God, lady. Don’t mess with us,” I say.

  “Jesus loves your baby!” yells another.

  “You don’t even know why we’re here, so why don’t you just shut up?” My heart is thumping, and my hands feel weak. Who are these people to judge anybody?

  “Calm down, Julia. Just forget them.”

  —

  Twenty minutes later, Lorena comes out the door with a gigantic grin on her face. I stand and drop the book from my lap.

  “What? No? Negative?” I whisper.

  Lorena shakes her head. She’s beaming.

  “Oh, thank God.” I let out a sigh of relief.

  When we get outside, Lorena jumps up and down and gives me a high five. I guess she was trying to contain herself in front of the other girls who may not be as lucky. The protestors look at her as if she were a humongous ogre. I give them a thumbs-up and smile.

  “God, that was scary as hell. I feel like we should celebrate or something.” Lorena is pacing back and forth on the sidewalk and rubbing her hands together.

  “How? We don’t have any money. What could we even do? Split a hot dog?”

  “Well…” Lorena looks guilty.

  “What?”

  “I already took José Luis’s money, just in case.”

  “You what? Are you serious?”

  “I didn’t want to take any chances. What if I needed it and then it was gone? Where would I get five hundred dollars? Look, I want to do something fun for once in my life. And I really don’t care about José Luis. He can seriously go fuck himself. What have you always wanted to eat?”

  “Oh my God, Lorena. You’re insane. Are you sure?”

  “Trust me. Please. I want to do this.” Lorena shakes me by the shoulders. “It’ll be fun. When will we have another opportunity like this?”

  “Shit, I don’t know. What about seafood? That’s pretty expensive, isn’t it?”

  —

  “A toast to you not being pregnant,” I say, raising my glass of water. “Now, please use condoms. Promise?”

  “Okay, okay. I know. I promise. I learned my lesson. Never again.”

  We watch boats sail down the Chicago River. It’s a perfect day to be near the water and blow a bunch of money on fancy food. When the waitress brings out a basket of bread, we just stare at each other confused until we see the couple next to us dip their bread in olive oil.

  “Is that really how you’re supposed to eat it? People eat oil like that?” I whisper, and motion toward their table with my head.

  Lorena looks perplexed and shrugs.

  I pour the oil onto my plate.

  “So you and Connor are back together, or what? What’s up with that?”

  “I mean, not exactly. I don’t know what we are. I like him a lot, but it seems like he doesn’t want to promise anything. It kind of bums me out. Then again, I liked Esteban, too. I still do. And that would never work out because we don’t even live in the same country. Fuck, dating is confusing.”

  “Tell me about it.” Lorena takes a sip of her Coke and stares off into the river for a few seconds. “I want to meet him. Send him a message.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Why not? I think I should be allowed to meet your boyfriend.”

  “I just told you he’s not my boyfriend, but I’ll ask him anyway,” I say as I text Connor.

  We’re quiet for a long time. “Olga was pregnant when she died,” I finally blurt. I wanted to wait for another time, but it kept swelling inside me all day like a balloon.

  “What are you talking about?” Lorena leans toward me.

  “I went through her computer. I found her password, then read all of these emails between her and this old married guy. I have no idea who he is. Their emails were super-secretive. It was like they were both terrified that someone would find out. They didn’t even use each other’s names or anything.”

  “No, not Olga. That’s impossible.” Lorena’s eyes widen. “You’re lying!”

  “I know, right?” It’s so ridiculous, I almost laugh—my angelic sister having a steamy love affair.

  “And your parents don’t know?”

  I shake my head. “Can you imagine?”

  “Oh my God.” Lorena covers her mouth. “Are you going to tell them? What are you going to do?”

  A small blue boat called Miss Behavin’ zips past.

  “I haven’t decided yet. I don’t know what to do. I mean, on one hand, what’s the point, right? It’s just going to upset them. She’s dead, and nothing is going to change that. On the other hand, don’t they deserve to know who she was? Wouldn’t you want to know? There are too many secrets in my family. It doesn’t seem right. Why do people always lie to themselves and each other? God, I don’t know. I keep going back and forth and back and forth. I just found out about it, and it’s gnawing away at my brain like crazy. I feel it’s going to come out somehow, sooner or later, no matter how hard I try to lock it up inside.”

  “Did sh
e want it, the baby?”

  “Wait, hold on. The waitress keeps looking at us.” I gesture toward where she’s standing. “I think she’s afraid we’re not going to pay our bill.”

  Lorena takes the stack of cash from her purse and waves it at her. “Problem solved. Go on.”

  I laugh. Classic Lorena move. “She had an ultrasound, so, yes. Plus, Olga was super-Catholic. She definitely would’ve had it. There’s no doubt in my mind.”

  The waitress suddenly brings us our giant seafood platter. It smells like the ocean. I don’t know what a lot of the items are, but I’m going to try them all until I feel sick to my stomach.

  “I think you should tell them. I mean, that was their kid, you know?” Lorena is still in shock. She picks at a crab with a fork. “How do you get the meat out of this thing?” She splatters some butter on the white tablecloth.

  “But you weren’t planning on telling Carlos or your mom if you were pregnant. How is that different? Do you think any good could come from it? You were the one telling me I had to move on with my life and stop obsessing about my sister.”

  Lorena doesn’t have an answer for that.

  —

  After lunch, Connor meets us on the corner of LaSalle and Wacker. I already suspected that Lorena wasn’t going to like him because he’s white and lives in the suburbs, but I’m still surprised by the amount of side eye she gives him.

  “Stop it,” I whisper to her, when Connor’s not looking. “Why did you tell me to invite him?”

  “What? What am I doing?” Lorena acts insulted. “I wanted to meet him.”

  “Come on, you know exactly what you’re doing.”

  The three of us walk along the river in silence until we find a coffee shop. Lorena orders the sweetest, most complicated drink on the menu, and Connor and I both get regular coffee with cream.

  “So, um…” Connor says as we sit at a table outside. “Julia tells me you’re really good at science.”