Page 88 of Careless Whisper

“We had a big fight. Papa had promised that we could settle down in New York after he finished his time in Mexico City. But Bush was starting his second term, and things were tense geopolitically. They wanted him in Amman. Middle East peace talks, quiet backchannels. He said he couldn’t say no. I told him that I wasdone. He could travel the world, and I was going to live in New York with my children.”

I drank some tea and waited with bated breath. My parents always seemed to be such a close and tight unit that I never thought they’d ever had trouble in their marriage.

“He said he was helping save the world. I said he could go fuck himself. I was going to save myself.” Mama traced a pattern on the table and then gave me a sad smile. “We were in New York for a month, and I was a mess…probably a lot like you were a few months ago.”

I tilted my head in acknowledgment.

“Apparently, Mum contacted Ignacio and told him that Bush had other diplomats, but I had only one husband. That got through to him. But I was too angry to let this go. Every time I’d given, and he’d taken, andnow, when I finally told him we were done, he just let me go.”

She leaned back in the bench, resting her head against the wall of the nook. “It took him most of the summer to get his head out of his ass, and then he showed up. Calls, apologies…I told him I didn’t trust him. We had a deal and he backed out of it. It went on for weeks. I even signed you and Carlos up for school in New York.”

“But we came back to Mexico City,” I reminded her.

“Yes.”

“So, what did he do that made you reconsider?”

“He wrote me a letter.”

I furrowed my brows, perplexed.

“That letter…well, that made all the difference. Since then, we’ve never asked the other to crush their dreams. We’ve just made sure to carry them together. Sometimes, his aspirations took the lead. Other times, mine did. But we never walked in opposite directions again.”

She paused, watching the light flickering in the tea lamp between us.

“It’s not always neat. It’s not always fair. But it works—because we learned how to make space for each other’s purpose. And when that space didn’t exist, we built it.”

I nodded and poured myself more tea, taking slow, measured sips as I processed what she told me.

“Eli’s letter…also makes a difference,” I admitted.

“But?”

She knew me so well!

“But I’m not ready…not for all of it. I just…I can’t get hurt again like that. I can’t just lie on G’Mum’s couch waiting for the pain to ease.”

“I know that couch,” Mama reassured me gently. “But holding onto fear,mija, comes with a cost.”

I glanced at her, the candlelight catching the silver in her hair. “You think I should forgive him.”

“I think forgiveness isn’t about letting someone off the hook.” She smiled softly. “It’s about deciding what you’re willing to carry. What is worth keeping. And what is only going to weigh you down.”

I finished my tea and then got up. “I’m going out.”

“Okay.” Mama opened her book.

I kissed her cheek. “You are the best parents in the world.”

She patted my cheek. “We know, and we’re very proud of it.”

Elias was in a pair of loose linen pants and no shirt, a towel slung over his shoulder when he opened the door. It was almost like he did it on purpose, to look…well…hot.

He stepped aside and let me in.

His apartment wastiny. It had an ancient fan and aview of someone’s laundry line.Butit was way cozier than his place in Boston that had all the appeal of a post-modern hotel room.

I held up his letter. “You write all your apologies on recycled paper?”

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