Page 67 of Serena
I’m holding on to my pendant that was around my neck when I woke up this morning.
“When was the last time you came to visit?” Ian asks as we pull up to my childhood home.
“It’s been five years. Since I moved away with Yuri. They’ve come to visit me during the holidays, but I’ve mostly spent them with Yuri and her family.” He gets out of the car and comes to my side. I wince as I get out. My whole body aches. Ian gave me the reprieve that I needed. I didn’t spiral and didn’t have nightmares. I was finally able to get some rest, but looking at the house in front of me, I’m already feeling emotionally exhausted.
I take in the house. It’s a one-story colonial. The yard is impeccable, and the lawn is vibrant with freshly cut green grass. Pink and red carnations adorn the front yard. My mother’s favorite. Growing up, there was always a fresh bouquet in the house.
“Are you sure you want to come with me?’ I ask him. “My relationship with my parents isn’t the best, so I’m pretty sure things are going to go sideways at some point.”
He tightens his grip on my hand. “I’m here. The question is, what will be my title for this introduction?”
I didn't think of that. “How about my very special man friend?”
He pulls me to him and slams his lips over mine. “Try again,” he growls, but before I can answer, the front door opens.
“Serena?” my mother asks. “Qué estás haciendo aquí?” She looks at Ian and repeats the question. “What are you doing here?”
“Hola, Mamá, I was in town on business, and I wanted to stop by for a visit.”
“Come in. Your father is in the backyard.” I enter the house and see the changes. Nothing is as it was five years ago. The paint on the wall is a different color, they’ve completed renovations to the entry, and it seems like the furniture has been replaced.
“Anthony, Serena is here.” I hear my father’s heavy footsteps. He stops in the kitchen entrance.
“What are you doing here, Serena?”
“Hola, Papa, good to see you too.”
“We didn’t know you were coming. You should have called.” And there it is.
“It was very short notice. I’m heading back to Veridian Bay in a couple of hours.” Ian coughs next to me, and the tension seems to dissipate. For now. “Mamá, Papa, this is Ian Kayde. He’s my—” I don’t finish the sentence; my father interrupts.
“Your boss.”
“Dios mio, Serena, you’re just introducing us?”
While my mother is swooning over Ian, I feel my father’s disapproving stare drilling a hole in the back of my head. I turnto face the man whose approval I’ve sought my entire life. I was never a mommy or daddy's girl. It was just me. I’m grateful for everything they did for me growing up, but isn’t that what parents are supposed to do? Spending time with your daughter shouldn't be the bare minimum. They always worked so hard to prove to others they belonged here. Whether it be in the suburbs or as business owners.
“Will you and Mr. Kayde be staying for lunch?” he asks. My mother is practically drooling over Ian. Why wouldn't she? He’s what she always wanted for me.
“Ambos necesitan quedarse y comer,” my mother insists. I guess we are staying for lunch.
“It would be our pleasure,” Ian answers for both of us.
The next hour is spent with Ian answering questions from my parents. I see my father glancing in my direction. He’s very good at keeping his feelings to himself until he explodes. He and my mother are professionals at being passive-aggressive. Mostly to each other, but I've received some of that ire. They don’t have a marriage; they have a business, which neither will ever leave. Fuck, I hate it here.
My mother whipped up some flautas. “Mexican food, mi favorita,” Ian says to my mother, then looks at me and winks. That’s what he’s been calling me for months, his favorite Mexican dish. I can’t help but laugh. Pendejo.
“What business brought you to town, Serena?” Of course, my father would get straight to the interrogation. Well, here goes nothing. I hold my pendant and gather the courage to say the words because this is a no-discussion topic in my family.
“The bar.”
The table goes silent. I can see my mother’s panic as she looks at Ian, whose features have hardened. I turn to her. “Don’t worry, Mamá, he knows what happened to me.” I see her faceturn red. She isn’t embarrassed; she’s ashamed someone else knows what happened to me, better yet, to her.
“Serena, why would you tell him? He’s your boss.”
My father mocks, “Do you really think that’s all he is, Carla?” I don’t bother to argue. “Look at the way he’s looking at her,” he reprimands my mother.
“You’re right, Papa, I’m also fucking him.” Surprised by my brazenness, Ian spits out his water.
