Page 106 of Lessons in Forgiving
“I’m hiding,” he deadpanned. “Because she thought it would be a great idea to join forces with McCarthy’s family—my aunt and uncle did too, obviously.” Glancing my way, he added, “And I would rather not hear another person gushing about his commencement speech.”
“He’s doing that?” I should’ve held back on the curiosity in my voice. Henry sent me another glare.
“Of course he is.”
I snickered, nudged his shoulder with mine. “Didyouwant to do it?”
“No.”
I snorted.What’s the problem, then?I wanted to ask, but he cut me off before I could. “Where are your parents?”
I swallowed my laugh, and think I winced instead. The twenty-pound boulder worth of dread plummeted to the pit of my stomach.The parents who didn’t know about my degree yet.
“Late,” I offered. “Judging by the flight updates, they’ll probably get here right in the middle of the ceremony. Or after, if I’m lucky.”
That way, at least they couldn’t hearPaula Fernanda Castillo, B. A. Journalismblasting through the microphone. Which… was at least one crisis averted. Only a hundred more to go.
“In that case,” Henry huffed. “You’ll only have to lie about what you do for the rest of your life after that. Easy enough.”
“That isnotthe plan.”
The plan was to find a job at a small paper, work my way up the ladder there—which would be decidedly easier than doing it at one of the big five.
I had three job interviews lined up for local papers, one in New York, two in Boston. And one of them would have to bite. Right? Once they did, I’d work my way up, be successful, rich… or at least not poor.Thentell my parents the truth.
That I hadn’t actually been interning at some made-up hedge fund.
By then, because I’d already have my real career to show for it, they’d all laugh at the funny little anecdote. Maybe someone would say they never thought I’d make it in the business world anyway, and I’d feel better about my decision, justified in my actions. That way, maybe I wouldn’t get thatchanclato the head I’d been dreading since changing majors.
I’d had the past four years to perfect that plan. “And you know it,” I added as an afterthought.
Henry stood, his lip curling upward. I followed his lead. “Because you’ve always been so great at planning, dear,” he mocked. “I’ll leave you to it.” He kissed me, short and sweet. The way a boyfriend might kiss his girlfriend. “I’m hoping McCarthy has taken off by now. Went to rehearse his grand speech or something.” His eyes rolled theatrically when he left.
And I couldn’t help my eyes trailing after him until he’d made his way out of the auditorium.
I hadn’t been sure if I’d wanted my parents’ flight to make up for lost time or circle the airport once more before it landed. Now, when they burst through the doors, and the commencement ceremony was still in full swing, my name not yet called, I knew.
My heart skipped a beat and my legs wobbled. Anxiety induced, probably. Because their presence—mom’s wide smile when she realized they’d made it in time and every single emotion I could spot on dad’s face from the distance—meant that everything I’d kept from them for the past four years was about to come to light.
And still, I was glad to see them. Tears-in-my-eyes glad. Suppressing-a-sob glad.
We hadn’t been in the same room for a long time. Since I’d said goodbye to them at the airport, hugged them tightly and promised to make them proud.
The name before mine was called.
It made my gaze snap away from María and Juan Castillo in the back of the hall, holding their hands tightly between each other as they watched a girl whose last name started with the same letter as mine take the stage.
She shook the HBU president’s hand, got her degree handed to her, and left the stage on the other side. Polite clapping, a single cheer later, the room quieted down for the next name. I felt a little dizzy.
Knowing that this was the moment I’d worked toward for so long. This was what I had lied to my parents for. What I’d written articles for. When at times, it felt like I might not make it.
A last-minute major change, lying sources, jealous co-writers and a broken heart that had seemed beyond fixing later, and here we were.
“Paula Fernanda Castillo,” blasted through the speakers. I could hear Maeve cheer from somewhere behind me. Henry should be close to her, probably clapping, too. Dylan and Caden hollered from somewhere in the crowd of graduating students, and I almost felt proud. Then I remembered my parents, at the back of the auditorium—clapping, smiling, laughing.
My breath stuttered in my throat. Despite my Jell-o legs, I moved. Took one step, then the next onto the stage. Crossed to the middle of it. “Bachelor of Arts. Journalism.”
Mom’s proud smile fell. Dad’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. And my eyes closed as I shook the school’s president’s hand, not wanting to see them when they caught on. Once they realized the announcement hadn’t been a mistake, I didn’t know if I could still look them in the eyes at all.
