CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
When I first moved to Spain, I toyed with the idea of inviting my mom to visit. Honestly, I didn’t expect her to actually take me up on it, but in that first year, she visits me three times. I even take a month off and we travel through Europe together, just the two of us. It’s painfully awkward for the first few days as we readjust to being around one another 24/7. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells, careful not to talk too much or too little. At dinner, when I want red wine but she wants white, I acquiesce. When she wants to tour the Parthenon but I want to head back to the hotel for an afternoon nap, I down an espresso and brave the crowds for her. I’m aware of how much shampoo I use when I shower. I deliberately let her take the side of the bed she prefers. It’s exhausting and draining, and after the first week, I think I’m going to have a nervous breakdown, but each day, I grow a little more comfortable in my own skin. I push back and assert myself more and more, testing the limits of our reconstructed relationship.
By the time we’re a few weeks into the trip, I finally realize she isn’t going to ditch me just because I’d rather eat pasta than share salmon with her. It’s a good revelation to come to because if I have to stuff another bite of bland fish into my mouth, I’m going to barf. After that, the trip really settles into place. We spend long evenings chatting at small cafes, people watching in between our conversations. Sometimes we talk about the past, a little at a time, until one evening, after a few glasses of wine, I work up the courage to ask her if she ever regretted leaving us.
She frowns, seemingly confused by the question. “I never thought of it like that, like I was leaving you.”
I laugh awkwardly. “Well…you did.”
Her shoulders droop as she tilts her head, her light brown eyes studying me sadly. “I gave you and your sister a choice. I wanted you to come with me.”
I shake my head. I don’t remember that.
“Obviously your father and I couldn’t stay together after I had the affair with Jorge. I moved out of the house and asked you if you wanted to come with me.”
“Yeah, once.”
And I obviously turned her down. In those early days, Ellie and I resented her for tearing our family apart.
“No. I asked you over and over again if you were sure you wanted to live with your father. You and Ellie insisted, so I lived with Jorge in Austin for two years, hoping the two of you would come around once you were ready to talk.”
“I don’t remember this,” I say on a weak whisper.
She sighs and glances away. “You were young.”
“I thought you left us and went straight into the Peace Corps.”
“No, we didn’t leave until you were in high school.”
“What?!”
How has time twisted so much of my memory? I always remember her leaving when I was younger, or maybe I just assumed she did.
I always think back on that time in my life with resentment. I carried a bitterness about the fact that she could pick up and leave us so quickly. She tells me she wanted to take me along with her during her first Peace Corps assignment, but my father thought it would be better for Ellie and me to stay in Austin and finish school the normal way.
I’m shocked into silence, my brain working overtime to try to reconcile my memories with reality. I decide to push a little further and ask if she ever resented us, if maybe she would have preferred a life with no children. At that, she reaches across the table for my hands and squeezes them tightly, imploring me to listen to her.
“I love you and Ellie so much. I wanted you from the very first moment I found out I was pregnant.” She leans forward and levels her gaze with me to ensure that I’m listening. “Do you hear me?”
My throat is too tight to speak, so I nod.
“My affair with Jorge was terrible and I regret hurting you and your father, but you have to know it had nothing to do with you or Ellie.” She smiles and quickly wipes the tear rolling down her cheek. “I love being your mom, and I know there are times where I’ve really sucked at it. I’m still learning, but I want you to know that you’ve always been first in my heart. Always.”
It’s the longest, most exhausting night of my life. The conversation ends with me crying against her shoulder, accepting her apologies and promising to leave the past in the past. When we leave the restaurant with her arm slung around my shoulder, it really feels like we’re turning over a new leaf.
The last week of our trip, Ellie flies over to join us. We spread those seven days out along the Amalfi Coast, lounging on the beach and eating enough pasta that we all have to casually unzip our jeans beneath the table. It’s a healing and bonding trip, one that will undoubtedly change everything that comes after it.
I return to Spain invigorated and ready to jump back into work. It’s been almost a year and a half since I first left Austin, and I’ve never felt more in control of my life and destiny. I have goals for the next few months. Fall is upon us, and I remember how nice it was this time last year. Luciana, Olive, and I sit up in my room, mapping out new destinations around the city. I don’t let them use Google Maps to figure out how to get around—sometimes, all we take is a handful of jotted notes, a compass, and a sense of adventure. The weather has already turned too cold for the beaches, but that won’t stop us from taking our bikes out nearly every day. I want to take in more of the architecture and Olive agrees, but Luciana would rather eat her way through the city one deep fried pastry at a time. I’m willing to oblige them both.
We settle on taking a cooking class together every Friday night for a few months. The girls manage to make fancy Spanish cuisine without causing permanent property or bodily damage; this constitutes success in my book. As for me, I manage to catch the attention of the very single, very flirty cooking instructor. He tastes my food and tells me enthusiastically that I’m the best student in the class. There’s an actual chef in the class, so I know he’s flirting, not to mention I burn half of my dishes while trying to keep Olive’s pyrotechnic proclivities at bay. Once, when I turned my back for one second, she piped the flame on her classroom stove as high as it would go. The only casualty was Luciana’s right eyebrow, which I proceeded to recreate with a brow pencil for two months until the hairs regrew. By the end, when Diego and Nicolás are none the wiser, I reflect on how frightening it is that these little girls can keep a secret of that magnitude. God help their future husbands.
On the last day of our class, the instructor asks me out on a date. He says he’s been wanting to ask me for months, but he didn’t want to break the student-teacher code of ethics. I didn’t think there was such a thing in a non-graded community cooking course, but maybe things are different in Spain.
Olive and Luciana make kissing faces in the background as I try to think of the most polite way to turn him down. There’s a lot of “it’s not a good time for me” and “I don’t want to lead you on” before he finally has to cut me off with a tight, awkward smile. He tells me he understands, says he just got out a relationship himself. The entire way home, the girls tease me about what my life could have been like if only I’d said yes.
“You could have been his sous chef!” Olive exclaims, like this is a plausible turn my life could take.
I dismiss her suggestion with a shrug. “Ugh, and wear that dumb chef’s hat all day? No thanks. Luciana, stop touching your face! You’re wiping away your eyebrow.”
…
The cooking instructor isn’t the first man to pursue me in Spain. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t keep a harem, but for a woman who spends most of her time holed up tutoring young girls, I deflect a fair number of suitors. There’s a barista that works at a cafe down the road from where we live. He’s there every morning when I stroll in after dropping the girls at school and knows my usual order, but most of the time he throws in a fluffy croissant or pastry for free. I should probably stop leading him on, but…they happen to be really good pastries.
Diego and Nicolás are perceptive. They ask me about my personal life every now and then, focusing on the details of my love life (or lack thereof). When we first moved to Spain, I told them I wasn’t interested in dating, said I wanted to soak in everything Spain has to offer on my own. They bought that response for a while, but now, they grow more skeptical with each weekend I spend with the girls instead of going out. I’m supposed to have the weekends off. They want me to go out on dates and meet friends, but I’d rather just stay in, eat dates, and watch Friends.
Right around the time our cooking class ends that fall, I nestle into a comfortable realization. I come to the conclusion that there are no mistakes in life, just decisions. I chose to come to Spain and here I am, finding my footing. I had a goal of succeeding as a tutor and exploring the world, and that’s just what I’ve gotten to do. There’s a sense of accomplishment that comes with that, and a reminder that whoever came up with “This too shall pass” really knew what they were talking about. Sometimes things pass like giant, painful kidney stones, but in the end, they pass.
When I first left Austin, the future looked bleak. My heart was broken, my world flipped on its head. Now, looking back, it’s hard to regret my decision. In fact, I conclude that there was never a right or wrong decision at all. I didn’t make a mistake in leaving the States, just like I wouldn’t have been making a mistake in staying behind for James. I still miss him—of course I do. Maybe I always will. Maybe that’s part of the lesson I’ve learned here: some people carve their initials so deeply into your heart, they’ll always be a part of you. James and I had a tumultuous few months, and I felt more for him than I’ve felt about any man I’ve ever met. Even now, his old clothes are still the most comfortable pajamas in my dresser, and I wear them to sleep a few times a month. I sometimes scour the internet for news about him or his company, but only late at night, and only after I’ve had a little bit of wine.
During the day, when I’m busy and enjoying life, I feel whole and normal again. I’m more excited for the future than reminiscent about the past. I think Diego and Nicolás can see that, because it’s right around this time that Diego announces he’s bringing a friend for dinner—a young, handsome colleague named Alejandro.