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Mari was a mentirosa and a major drama queen. She threatened to run away as often as I called my younger brother a pinche cabrón behind my parents’ backs.
“No llores. Big girls no cry,”
How could I know at that moment that the lemon tree and the promise we’d just made would only survive a few more summers?
I loved my family, but I loved them even more in small doses.
People often asked me if I felt strange teaching in the same classroom where I had once been a first grader too. If anything, I felt more comfortable there than I did anywhere else.
I thought of my welita and how she had once told us how a woman in the grocery store had laughed at her broken English.
Welita had said that if she’d cried in front of her, then the woman would have known the power she’d had over her. She’d always told us that people who hurt us don’t deserve our tears.
Not because I wasn’t proud of my Mexican heritage. Sometimes I was just too tired to defend it. Even in the first grade, I learned it was much easier if you didn’t talk with an accent and didn’t bring egg burritos to school for lunch.
I suffered a whole new identity crisis. I was constantly scolded by strangers who would look at my brown skin and not understand why my Spanish was limited. It didn’t matter to them that we spoke English at home because my dad was trying to learn the language. Instead, they told me in English, “Your parents should be ashamed of themselves.”
As a kid, I was ashamed about not being white enough. But as an adult, I was ashamed for not being Mexican enough.
“Ay, Marisol. When will you learn that living with something you don’t love is not living at all?”
Do I want to stay at the News-Press?
Although I’d been annoyed earlier that Adrian had latched on to me, he was turning out to be not such a bad guy. “For what it’s worth, you’re way cooler than I’ve given you credit for.” “Thanks. And, for what it’s worth, you deserve more than a guy who breaks up with you right before Christmas.” And to my surprise, it turned out that it was worth quite a lot.
“I also like to spend time with my family,” I added. “I have a pretty big one, so it seems as if there’s something to do every weekend. They keep me pretty busy actually.”
A gift is a gift, and you should always be grateful for anything someone gives you out of love. The day you tell someone what to give you is the day you no longer get gifts out of love, but rather obligation. Well, for me, I’d rather have the love.”
As I got closer, I knew again that I was in the right place. Not because of some sign, but because of the chatter.
holding on to only the bad things that happened to us leaves us too tired to enjoy the good.”
Like being able to see Adrian almost every day.
“You’re wonderful, Gracie. And I’ve loved spending time with you these past few months.” He then took my hands and squeezed them. “Shit. I’m sorry. Please don’t think I only wanted to get laid. I do care about you, but I can’t offer you what you need right now when my life is so . . . up in the air. You’re the type of girl who deserves a real boyfriend. Someone who can promise you forever. And that’s not me. At least, not right now.”
I guess that was the good thing about all of us living so close. When something bad happened, we could be there in a matter of minutes.
My family included some of the nosiest, most frustrating, most meddling people around. But I loved every single one of them.