“Do what makes you happy,” she said lightly.
“Doing Mateo made me happy,” I joked.
She sighed. “Such a romantic name. Mateo Casalles. Vera Casalles sounds good too. You sound like a Spanish queen.”
I flinched at the mention of Spanish royalty. “Well, no one is getting married here.”
“No, I suppose not,” she said. “You’re only twenty-three and have your whole life ahead of you, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he never wanted to get married ever again, or even have kids.”
Ouch, that hurt. Did I mention that Jocelyn could be really blunt?
“I meant that more as in we don’t really know each other that well and should probably live together for a while first before that happens. Or, you know, what you just said.”
“Oh. Sorry, Vera. But, I mean, you should probably keep that in mind when you get there. I totally support the move to Spain for your true love kind of notion, even though I won’t see you as often, but try and keep your heart protected, too.”
Didn’t she know it was way too late for that?
After I told her, I knew it was only a matter of time before it would pop up on my Facebook or it would slip out somehow. It was time to tell my mother.
Unfortunately, I picked a day that Mercy was over. She and my mom were in the kitchen, baking dinner together. Josh had picked up extra shifts that week and happened to be home, so if I wanted his support, I was going to have to jump on it.
My chest felt like it was filled with cement. Ugh. This was going to suck so badly.
I went to Josh’s room and gave him a look. “It’s time.”
He nodded and came out to join me, and we walked down the hall. You’d think I was going to war.
We went into the kitchen. Mom was sipping her wine and peering at Mercy over her glasses. Mercy was wearing a stylish apron that she must have brought from her apartment, her hair pulled back in one of those effortless topknots that makes me look like I have an animal on my head when I try to do it. She was grating a block of parmesan into a bowl, gluten-free lasagna being assembled in a pan beside it.
I stopped on the other side of the island and cleared my throat until they looked at me and Josh.
“What is it, sweetie?” My mother asked.
Oh, she wasn’t going to be calling me sweetie in a minute.
I looked up at Josh. He nodded at me encouragingly.
I felt so sick, like I’d eaten a pile of nerves and they were sitting at the bottom of my stomach, wriggling around.
“I have something I need to tell you,” I said, my voice no louder than a whisper.
Mercy put the cheese down and cocked her head quizzically.
I was afraid to look them in the eyes, so I looked at the island instead. I cleared my throat. “I’ve decided to move to Spain.”
There was silence. I risked it and looked up.
My mother cocked a brow. “Okay. Well, I guess we can discuss this.”
Mercy looked at her, appraising her expression. She sucked on her teeth and said, “Sure, Vera. I could see you were really happy there.”
“You’re going to have to start working more,” my mother said. “And you can’t let it interfere with your studies.”
“I saved up a lot of money in a year,” Mercy said. “It’s hard, but it’s doable.”
“When did you want to go?” my mother asked. “Next fall? I don’t think you could make next summer work. You’ve got Mercy’s wedding and everything.”
“Yeah, my wedding.”
Ooh, boy.
I felt Josh nudge me.
I gulped. “I’m going next week.”
Mercy dropped the cheese grater. It landed with a clatter that echoed through the kitchen.
“What?” my mother hissed.
“You’re joking,” said Mercy, shaking her head. She looked at Josh. “What’s wrong with her? Is this a joke?”
“No,” Josh said. “I had nothing to do with it, but I’m here for support.”
Thanks, Josh, I thought angrily. Well, it was too late now. They were already freaking out. I wondered how long I could keep Mateo a secret, my whole reason for going.
“You aren’t going,” my mother said, putting down the wine glass. “You have school. Jesus, Vera. Use your brain. Sometimes I wonder about you and your flights of fancy.”
“I’m not going to school this year.”
“Like hell you aren’t,” she growled, really starting to get mad.
“I’m taking a year off. Or maybe two. Maybe I’ll go to university in Madrid. I’m sure—”
“Are you on drugs again?” Mercy asked, folding her arms together in a huff, her lip curled up like somehow this was affecting her life in some way.
I glared at her. “No. I’m not on drugs. I’m just going to Spain.”
“Well, you can’t and you aren’t,” my mother said with finality. “Wait till your father hears about this.”
“Right. Why is it that you always call dad when something wrong has happened, but never with something right?”
“Because things never go right with you,” my mother sniped.
Ouch. Okay, don’t cry, don’t cry, I told myself. She had a wicked tongue and I knew this going in.
“Mom,” Josh warned her.
“I’m disappointed in you, Joshua,” she said, her voice taking on that icy competitive realtor tone that she was really, really good at. “You’re actually supporting her decision?”
He gulped but nodded. “Yes. She’s an adult, she can do whatever she wants.”
“No,” Mercy interjected. “She can’t. She’s in school that’s paid for by mom and dad. She barely makes any money at her shit job. She can’t get to Spain even if she started turning tricks.” At that she gave me a pointed look, as if that was a possibility.
“I already have a plane ticket,” I said, and I knew once I said it that the can of worms was going to turn into a bucket of snakes. There were all coming out, unstoppable.
“How the hell did you get a plane ticket?” my mother asked. She shot Mercy a nervous look, as if Mercy had been right.
“It was bought for me.”
“By whom?” she demanded.
“By the man I’m in love with.”
Silence. I could hear the fridge motor kick on. Somewhere outside a dog barked. The blood inside me was pulsing loudly.
My mother looked truly confused. “What man?”
Suddenly Mercy shrieked, “Oh my god!” and put her hands over her mouth.
She figured it out.
“What?” my mom asked again. “What am I missing here?”
“The soccer player!” Mercy yelled. She pointed at me, jabbing her finger in the air. “You’re in love with the soccer player!”
I could see my mother mouth, “Soccer player?” out of the corner of my eye but all my focus was on Mercy as the disgusted look came into her eyes.
“Vera, he’s married!” she yelled. “Oh my god, you were with a married man?”
“What?!” my mother screeched loudly.
“He’s getting a divorce,” I said feebly, as if that would help. It wouldn’t. The damage was done.
“Oh my god, Vera,” my mother said, putting her hand to her head like she was going to faint. Her face had gone pale. “Vera, you stupid idiot. What is wrong with you? What is wrong with you?”
“I’m not an idiot,” I retorted helplessly.
“You had an affair with a married man!” Mercy was beside herself. She kept shaking her head, flapping her hands. “I can’t even…I can’t.”