Page 143 of The Jack*ss in Class

“Was everything,” Abuela corrected. “The senator was quite understanding when I explained that you would not be returning to law school.”

“What? Abuela, why?” Rosalind whispered, her voice breaking.

Abuela replied firmly. “As the matriarch of this family, I am the keeper of our values. You betrayed your sister, and your family. That is not who we are, Rosalind. It is time you rethink your life choices and your place in this family.”

Rosalind looked to Mamá for support, but found only confusion and disappointment. She turned to Papá, who had remained silent throughout the confrontation, but he simply shook his head.

“I’ve worked so hard,” Rosalind said, tears finally spilling down her cheeks. “A law degree and that internship was my future.”

“Was it?” Abuela asked, her voice softening slightly. “Or was it the future your mother imagined for you?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with implication.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Rosalind said, wiping angrily at her tears.

“I think you do.” Abuela stepped closer, taking Rosalind’s hands in hers. “I’ve watched you, mi nieta. I’ve seen how you flinch when people call you ‘future senator.’”

Rosalind stiffened, but Abuela’s gaze was penetrating. “You don’t want to be a lawyer any more than Tempest wanted to. But instead of having the courage to choose your own path, you lashed out at your sister for finding hers.”

Rosalind’s composure crumbled completely, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

“I hate law school,” she whispered, the confession torn from somewhere deep inside her. “I’ve always hated it.But it’s what was expected. What would make everyone proud.”

Mamá made a small, pained sound, clutching the notebook of her own abandoned writing to her chest.

“Oh, Rosalind,” Papá said gently, “we would be proud of you no matter what path you chose, as long as it was truly yours.”

“Would you?” Rosalind looked directly at Mamá, her voice raw with years of unexpressed doubt.

Mamá stared at her daughter, then down at the notebook in her hands, tangible evidence of her own abandoned dreams. Something shifted in her expression, a realization dawning that seemed to age her and soften her all at once.

“Yes,” she said finally, her voice steady despite the tears gathering in her eyes. “I would. Because I don’t want for you what happened to me.” She held up the notebook.

The sincerity in her voice seemed to surprise everyone, especially Rosalind, whose tears flowed freely now.

“I don’t even know what my heart wants,” she admitted.

“Then take the time to find out,” Abuela said, gentle now that her point had been made. “But do not punish your sister for having the courage you’re still finding.”

Rosalind nodded, then turned to me, naked vulnerability in her expression. “I really thought I was doing the right thing. I was wrong and I’m sorry.”

The apology was simple but I was going to need some time before I would be ready to forgive her. I would, in time, but Ros was going to have to do some groveling, andhonestly, work to figure out who and what she wanted to be.

“I know what it’s like to feel trapped by expectations,” I said. “I spent years hiding parts of myself because I thought they wouldn’t be acceptable. Trust me when I say, you won’t be happy until you figure out who you genuinely want to be.”

I had to admit that Abuela’s particular brand of dramatic intervention had accomplished what years of tension and unspoken resentments could not.

Sometimes a family needed a little telenovela drama to find its way to the truth.

“Now,” Abuela announced, clapping her hands together as if the matter was settled, “I believe we have a graduation to celebrate. Ophelia has made a beautiful spread of food, and the mariachi band is waiting to play. Tempest has achieved something remarkable today. She has graduated with honors and found the courage to live authentically. That is what we celebrate.”

Following Abuela’s directive to return to the celebration, Flynn leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Your grandmother is terrifying in the best possible way.”

I laughed softly, leaning into his strength. “She gets results.”

We sat down around the tables in the backyard, celebrated, and devoured Ophelia’s food.

Mamá’s gaze shifted to me, and I saw the struggle playing out behind her eyes, the clash between her lifelong expectations and her newfound understanding.

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