"Well, your dad said Valencia wasn't safe for you... babe, he even went the extra mile to make sure you didn't go back," she shoots back, her voice rising. "He put a clause in his will, Elena! He said you shouldn't even come to Valencia for his own burial or you'll lose your inheritance. Your father did that... so what's your problem?"
My dad brought me from Valencia to Pinecrest when I was ten. Since then, I have lived in this mansion with servants and guards, yearning for a mother who never calls and hardly answers when I do.
Only my half-sister, Beatriz, speaks to me sometimes.
A few years ago, I heard my mother was coming to Chicago for a wedding. Ingrid and I drove twenty-two hours to see her. I was exhausted but so happy. When we got there, my mother barely acknowledged us when we saw her. She told me she hadn't come to the US to see me. And now I'm about to go back to her, months after my father passed on. Everyone is against me going to Valencia.
Even my father's sister, Aunt Lucinda, warned me not to go.
"Do you think putting that clause was a joke?" Ingrid blurts out, startling me from my thoughts. "I mean, knowing how much your dad loves you... that must have been a big deal for him."
I sigh in frustration. My flight is in a few hours. I don't want to spend that time arguing with Ingrid.
"Ingrid, the will only says not to go to Valencia for his burial and not that I should never go to Valencia again. I checked with my lawyer... I can go now that everything is over," I say. My voice comes out flat and shaky. I hate when I argue with Ingrid.
I brush my fingers over the velvety leaves of my African violet plant, gathering my courage.
God, I'm going to miss my plants and Ingrid, even if she doesn't realise it.
Ingrid turns and rises up on her elbow.
"You'll be twenty-two in a few weeks and you want to spend it with your mom? A woman who has never visited you in almost twelve years and who makes it clear she doesn't want anything to do with you?"
"Well, my dad didn't give her much of a choice when he yanked me away from her and brought me here to the US."
Ingrid is sitting up now, staring at me like a disappointed parent.
"Ingrid, please, can we not fight?" I ask, walking towards her. Ingrid, being the weird human being she is, proceeds to stare at me for what seems like an eternity. The silence and her gaze become excruciatingly uncomfortable, so I look down at my fingers instead.
Finally, she sighs.
"I just want you to be safe, Elena. Your dad left you everything. I don't think your mom is particularly okay with that."
"I... I know, but we cannot entirely blame her. My dad was a great father. The best father anyone could ask for, but I guess he wasn't the best husband."
Ingrid rolls her eyes mockingly. "I have met your mom, Elena... and she is not a saint."
My dad is gone now. The pain never goes away. I miss him so much. It all just made me realise that I won't always have my parents forever, so I'm better off bonding with them while I can.
Dad and Aunt Lucinda had been the only family I have had for a long time.
But I can't keep living like this.
I have a mom and a half-sister and a best friend who understands my love for plants.
"Oh, Ingrid." I walk to her and hug her.
She wriggles to break free from my embrace.
"Well, since you are hell-bent on going to Spain, please get yourself an actual man, one that can talk and move, not all these plants you are obsessed with," she teases, pointing through the window to my variegated canna lily sitting just outside the greenhouse.
"You know... One of those rich sires or heirs or whatever they call them in your circle... Maybe he'll be into the dominant kinky stuff you like," she adds.
I roll my eyes.
"Haha, very funny, as if it's that easy." I shrug. "I'm not particularly Spanish wife material." For as long as I can remember, I have always been plus-sized, which is a fancy way of saying all my life I have always been displeased with the number on the scale.
Ingrid laughs.
"And what would that be?"
"You know, slim, sexy, chic."
She scoffs, getting off the bed. "Ain't you the most self-unaware person on earth."
Grabbing her hand, I say, "Stay with me... please," batting my lashes.
"That doesn't work on me and you know it," she says, trying to pull away. "I'm unfortunately not sexually deviant like you."
"Come on, Ingrid... I'm not a sexual deviant. I have never even had sex. I just... you know... fantasise about being dominated and controlled. Nothing wrong with that," I correct, tugging harder, and she falls back on the bed laughing.
"If you say so... get some rest before your flight."
"I want to rest with you," I tease, snuggling into her lap.
Ingrid looks at me for a moment, her hands running through my damp hair. Her countenance changes abruptly as she goes completely still.
"Elena." Her voice is low as she straightens. I find myself springing up in confusion too.
"Elena, what about the man back home?" She holds my gaze and doesn't flinch as I search her expression, confused.
"What man?" I inquire.
She just stares at me.
"The Mafia Don, Elena... The one you told me your father betrothed you to at seventeen."
An uneasy pulse of memory runs through me, but I ignore it. Now is not the time to visit that.
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