I actually had to cut this chapter short a bit, because I'm leaving for vacation in 13 hours. I won't be able to update until Wednesday, but I'll do my best to write the next chapter between now and then. Now, enjoy.
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I woke up to the sound of coffee percolating in the kitchen. Half unsure of where I was, I pushed the blanket I was under off my head, before realizing I was completely naked.
Oh yea. Now I know where I am.
I couldn't find my pajamas from where Jesse threw them last night, so I wrapped a blanket around me. However, I spotted a robe hanging from the hook in the closet, and, hoping it was Jesse's and not Mark's, slipped it on before leaving the bedroom.
Jesse was in the small kitchen, leaning against the counter while reading a copy of a newspaper. The New York Times, I noted. He heard me come in, and looked up with a smile.
"Good morning, Querida," he said, and kissed me gently. "Happy Thanksgiving."
"You too. How long have you been up?" I asked sleepily. Well, we were up pretty late last night… He chuckled when I yawned.
"About twenty minutes. I thought I'd let you sleep a bit more." I grabbed a bagel, knife, and cream cheese from the counter, and sat down at the table. After smearing the bagel with the stuff, I took a bite. Jesse sat down next to me, giving me a mug of Earl Grey, while he took a sip of his coffee. I tentatively took a small swallow, and realized he had made it just the way I like it.
"Thanks," I said warmly, and he kissed my cheek.
"We need to be leaving in about an hour, okay?" he said. "You finish breakfast, I'm going to get a shower." He finished his coffee in one swallow, and squeezed my shoulder gently as he walked towards the bathroom.
After I finished my bagel and tea, I skimmed the headlines of the paper—just political stuff that mostly went over my head—and then went back into the bedroom, looking around a bit more.
There were two dressers against one wall. One was being used as a bookshelf, with a row of books against the back and a few more in a pile. There was also a picture of Jesse and me, which I recognized as one the Cee Cee took, at a little good-bye party at the beach for Jesse in August.
The other just had a plethora of different things—loose change, a pair of sunglasses, a few crumpled receipts, a comb, a bottle of aspirin, and text book and notebook. There was also a small picture of a girl. She was pretty, with dark tanned skin and sun highlighted brown hair.
I heard the water shut off, and a moment later the door opened, and Jesse appeared, with only a towel around his waist. Even though I had seen more of him than he was showing right now, I still felt the urge to admire his (dripping wet) perfection.
He noticed this and smirked at me. "The shower's all yours," he said. He came closer, and noticed where I was looking. "That's Jenna. Mark's girlfriend."
"She looks nice," I said. Jesse smiled.
"I think you two would get along." After a moment's pause, I grabbed my bag and made my way into the bathroom.
After washing my hair and my body and shaving my legs, I wrapped myself in a towel and wiped away the steam from the mirror, and began my morning routine.
After blow-drying my hair, moisturizing, and doing my makeup, I poured some water from the sink into a small paper cup that was on the counter, and I took my pill. More than a year ago, when I had decided to sleep with Paul (oh, what a mistake. But whatever. That's in the past), I started taking the pill. I won't get pregnant, and I know Jesse doesn't have any STIs, so we're all good to have sex whenever we want. Of course, my mom doesn't know. Getting the prescription involved a stealth trip to the Planned Parenthood in a nearby town (thanks to Cee Cee for driving). After I put the nearly empty package away, I made a mental note that I needed to get by the drug store to pick the refill that I dropped off a few days before I left.
After that was taken care of, I pulled on a black A-line skirt, a dark red ¾ sleeve button-down, and matching pointy-toed pumps I got for ½ off from Manolo Blahnik.
When I came out of the bathroom, it was just about time to go. Jesse was on the couch, reading something. "Do I look okay?" I asked. I was a bit nervous about meeting Mrs. De Silva. I wanted her to like me.
"You look beautiful, Susannah." I smiled graciously. "Are you ready to go? They're expecting us to be there in about ten minutes." I was about to say yes, but then I remembered I forgot to put my earrings in and put my necklace on and all that.
"Yea, just let me grab my earrings… I'll put them on in the car." I hurried back to my bag, and grabbed the necklace I had brought (silver chain with a ruby-esque stone) and the earrings (silver studs with the same stone), and slipped them into my purse.
Once in the car, it took me half the trip to get the necklace on. It had one of those tiny clasps that were next to impossible to get on. Plus, I was getting more nervous about meeting Jesse's family. He sensed these worries, and said, "Don't worry, Susannah. They'll love you." We pulled onto their street. I had gotten the first earring in, and was getting the second's back off when someone pulled out of the driveway in front of us suddenly, causing Jesse to swerve around it and swear loudly. In all the commotion, my earring when flying from my hand, and landed somewhere near Jesse's feet.
"Are you okay?" Jesse asked, after the other car drove away.
"Yea," I said. "I think I just dropped my earring."
"The house is right around the corner," Jesse said, as he continued driving. "You can find it when we get there."
A minute later, my nerves doubled when he pulled the car into the circular driveway in front of a two-story house. It was a very nice house, an off-white color, with a dark green porch and shutters.
"This is it," Jesse said, and shut the car off. There were a few other cars in the driveway, more than most people have. "I think my mom said Elena would be here, and so would her brother, Luis and his wife Cristina." Then, he gave me a sideways look, and his voice dropped a bit, as if someone were trying to eavesdrop on us. "Listen… my mother doesn't know you're staying all weekend. She thinks you just came up for the day." I grinned.
"Jesse, you naughty boy, lying about your sex life, are you?" I teased. He grinned.
"Just, try not to mention anything that might… get us both in trouble." I winked.
"No problem." Suddenly, I remembered. "Oh, wait, Jesse, my earring." He slid his seat back, and moved his legs. I leaned over the cup holders, and started feeling around on the floor of the driver's seat, hoping to poke myself with the back of the stud. "Oh! Found it!" I exclaimed victoriously. I grabbed onto the steering wheel to hoist myself up.
And saw an older woman, with slightly graying dark hair and eyes remarkably like Jesse's glaring at me with pursed lips.
And I realized that I had just lifted my head from Jesse's lap.
Shit.
Jesse seemed to realize this at the same time, because he very quickly opened the door and got out, as if to be like, 'See, Mom? My pants are completely zippered and buttoned!'
"Hello, Mother," Jesse said, with an edge of nervousness. He kissed her cheek, but she was still staring at me with contempt. I carefully climbed out of the car, still holding the other earring. I felt like a deer in headlights.
I mean, WHAT can you possibly say to a woman who thinks she just caught you performing oral sex on her only son?
In her own DRIVEWAY?
"This is Susannah," Jesse said. I put a smile on my face, and held out my hand, but she looked at it for a moment, before shaking it with disgust.
I was screwed.
"Nice to meet you, Mrs. De Silva," I said brightly. "It's great to finally meet you."
She still remained silent.
"While we were driving here, someone pulled out right in front of us," Jesse said, trying to explain how, exactly, I came to have my face between his legs. "Nearly hit us. I managed to swerve, though, and Susannah only lost her earring when she dropped it… she found it, though, near the brake."
"Good thing, too, or I'd have to go around with only one earring on," I joked lamely. She seemed to accept this explanation, though, at least a little.
She turned to Jesse, completely ignoring me, and said, "Come in, it's cold out." And then she took his arm, and led him inside, not sparing me another glance.
Oh God. This is a disaster.
I hurried up the walk behind them, only to have her try to shut the door in my face. I wanted to cry.
But I had grabbed it just before it shut, and gently opened it again. "Haha, don't forget about me!" I said lightly.
"Right, of course," she said darkly. Then she left Jesse and I alone in the foyer while she started off towards the kitchen, calling something in Spanish.
As soon as she was out of earshot, I moaned and Jesse wrapped his arm around me. I buried my head in his chest. "She hates me. She wants to kill me," I groaned. He didn't deny it. How could he?
"Querida, I'll work on her. She'll see how much I love you." I squeezed him, grateful of his support.
Then I heard someone running down the stairs. "Jesse!" They cried. We pulled apart, and a young girl, about 8, flung herself at Jesse.
"Anna!" The hugged, and then he set her down. "Anna, this is my friend Susannah. Susannah, this is my youngest sister, Anna Maria."
I gave her a bright smile. "Hi, Anna. It's great to meet you!" Hey, if his mom was a lost cause, at least there were 6 other members of his immediate family.
She smiled back, then turned to Jesse. "Ella es bonita. ¿Es ella una amiga especial?" she asked teasingly, whatever she said. Jesse just ruffled her hair.
"Vas a ayudar madre en la cocina," Jesse replied. She giggled, and hurried down the hallway.
"What did she say?" I asked. He laughed, but didn't answer me, just pulled me through a formal dining room, into a living room. Jesse's Uncle Jose and two other men were watching football, but when they saw us they waved and called a "Hello" in greeting, while I heard three women talking through the door to the kitchen (and I heard my name mentioned several times). At a table, five girls were playing cards. Jesse took me over to introduce me to the girls.
They varied in age. The oldest was about my age, the youngest was about ten. They all were distinctly Hispanic, like Jesse, with beautiful dark hair and perfect, tan skin. Four of them looked a lot like Jesse, and were clearly his sisters, though the fifth girl there had different features. Her hair was long, and in two braids down to her elbows.
"Hello, girls," he said. They looked up.
"Hey, Jesse! We thought we heard you," one of them said. "Who's she?" She asked, looking at me, perplexed.
"I'm Suze," I said. "I'm a friend of Jesse's." The oldest girl there smirked.
"You mean girlfriend, don't you?" she asked, and one of the girls laughed. I smiled. "Jesse never shuts up about you." I grinned, looking at Jesse, whose cheeks were adorably pink.
"Susannah, these are my sisters, Marta," he pointed to the oldest, "Mercedes," a girl about 14, "Carmen," who was about 12 "and Elena." She was the youngest, at ten. "And this is my cousin, Hanna." She was Mercedes' age, and the one who looked a little different. The three women came out from the kitchen. There was Elena, who waved at me as she took a swig of her glass of wine, Jesse's mother, who still looked distrustful, and another woman, who had short hair with golden brown highlights.
"Susannah, great to meet you, I'm Cristina, Jesse's aunt."
"Likewise," I said warmly. "I'm so glad to meet all of you." Laura smiled, but Mrs. De Silva seemed to my stifling an eye roll.
"Nice shoes," Elena said, examining my feet. "Whose are they?"
"Manolo Blahnik," I said. She nodded approvingly.
"Susannah, would you like something to drink?" Mrs. De Silva asked stiffly. I guess Elena worked her down a bit.
"Yes, thank you." I followed her into the kitchen, while everyone else greeted Jesse. She poured me a glass of soda, and just as I was thanking her, she interrupted me.
"Now, listen to me," she said quietly, "I know my Jesse thinks he's in love with you, but trust me, it's just puppy love." I started to open my mouth to reply, but she just kept talking. "My Jesse's a good boy, and he does not need someone like you corrupting him. If you actually cared about him, which I doubt, you'd leave him alone and remove your bad influence." And with that, she swept out of the room, leaving me speechless and close to tears.
This could not get any worse. All I wanted was for his family to like me. To accept me.
But all I am is a whore to them.
To my embarrassment, I felt tears spill over my eyelashes, and slide down my face. I couldn't take her telling me that I was a bad influence and a slut, because, well, it's true. I mean, I did sleep with Jesse—his first time, too. I felt sick with guilt about pressuring him.
I went back into the living room, after doing my best to wipe away my tears. Jesse was talking to Elena and Marta, with his mother talking to his father on the other side of the room. Elena looked at me, startled, and I tugged on Jesse's sleeve.
"Jesse, where's a bathroom, my… allergies are acting up," I said, sniffling. Jesse took one look at me, and got angry.
"Mother, what did you say to her?" he half shouted.
"Nothing except the truth," she replied stubbornly. He wrapped his arm around me, and led me away, after saying something back to his mother in Spanish. He pulled me into what appeared to be a study, with a couch, several bookshelves, and a desk. He sat me down on the couch, and came and sat down next to me.
"Querida, what did she say?" he asked gently. I shook my head, sniffling and trying to keep the tears in. "Tell me." I took a deep breath.
"Sh-sh-she said th-that I was a bad influence a-and t-that I w-was a whore," I said, with difficulty. "And that y-you d-don't really love me." His lips thinned, and he looked angry.
"Susannah, that isn't true. She's just afraid because you're the first girl I've felt this way about, and she doesn't know how to react."
"But it is true," I sniffed. I took note that the door was firmly shut before pressing on, in hushed tones. "I made you sleep with me. I corrupted you, just like she said!"
Jesse cupped the side of my face, and brushed away a tear with his thumb. "Querida, you did no such thing. I did that because I wanted to, more than anything. Not because you pressured or forced me." I sniffed again. "Susannah, I love you. Truly. Never, ever think otherwise." He sighed. "My mom will come around. Like I said, this isn't about you, but her not being the only woman I love anymore. She'll accept that fact, eventually, and when she sees who you are, she'll love you, too."
Consoled a bit, I threw my arms around Jesse and gave him a tight hug. "I love you," I mumbled into his shoulder. He grabbed a tissue from the desk, and handed it to me.
"I know you don't want to go out there with a runny nose and puffy eyes… so I'm going to go have a word with my mother, and you can go into the bathroom and wash up." I nodded gratefully, and followed him down the hall a bit, where he opened the bathroom door for me. As I was shutting it behind me, I heard him say, in a tight voice, "Mother, may I have a word with you?"
When I looked in the mirror, I was very glad Jesse had given me a few more moments to clean up. My eyes were wet and puffy, and some of my mascara and smudged, and my nose was red.
I dried my eyes, and blew my nose, and wiped away the makeup smudges so I looked presentable, if not knock-out like I did before. Oh well. They saw me at my best, already.
When I came back into the living room, everyone was tensely trying to ignore the muted argument between Jesse and his mother outside, half visible through the curtains.
God. I'd caused a family feud, and I'd only been here for about half an hour.
"Are you okay?" Marta asked, concerned. I smiled, and nodded.
"I'm okay now, thanks."
"Just, don't worry about Mom… she did the same thing to my first boyfriend, when I brought him home for Sunday dinner." She looked at me sideways. "Of course, he didn't cry." I laughed, happy that she, at least, seemed to like me. Then Mercedes came over.
"Do you want to help us set the table? We've got decorations and stuff," she offered, and I grinned.
"I'd love to."
They led me back into the formal dining room. Together, we picked out a table cloth from the sideboard, laid out cloth napkins, and made a cornucopia for decoration, all awhile just talking and getting to know each other.
We were busy filling out the place markers and deciding where to put them (I made sure I was next to Jesse, and we were both far away from his mother) when Jesse and his mom came in.
"Here you are," he said. "I was wondering where you'd run off too."
"Suze helped us set the table, Mama," Mercedes said. "She picked out which set of candles looked best with the table cloth." I smiled brightly, as if she hadn't told me I wasn't good enough for her baby just half an hour earlier.
"It looks wonderful, girls," she said stiffly.
"Mother has something to say to you, Querida," Jesse said, causing Mercedes to giggle.
"I'm sorry, Susannah. It was not in my place to say those things," she said, just as stiffly as before. It was clear that she did not mean it, and did not want to apologize, but I accepted it anyway.
"It's okay, Mrs. De Silva," I said graciously, just hoping to get it all behind us.
She mumbled something about the turkey, then left the room. Jesse sat down next to me. "What happened?" I whispered. "I didn't cause a fight, did I?" I mean, I didn't want Jesse to have to chose between his mother and me. God, that would suck.
"No, Querida, everything is okay. I just needed to have a word with her about interfering in my personal life. She's having difficulty realizing I'm an adult, now, and old enough to make my own decisions. Empty Nest Syndrome. Although, considering she has these two to deal with," he teased, making a face at his two sisters (which they returned), "She should be glad she has one less kid in the house." Then he changed the subject. "So, where am I sitting?" he asked us.
"Next to me," I said grinning.
"And Anna," Marta said. "Down at the other end of the table." There were a lot of people there—8 in Jesse's immediate family alone, plus me, two aunts, two uncles, and a cousin. (Fourteen in all, for those mathematically challenged.).
After we were completely done with setting the places, Marta and Mercedes went off to call their boyfriend and read, respectively. Carmen and Elena came in after they left, asking if Jesse would come and play cards with them. As an afterthought, Elena said shyly, "You can play, too, Susannah."
I followed the two back through the living room, where Jose and Luis were arguing about a referee's call in the football game they were watching, Elena, Cristina, and Hanna were in the kitchen, and Mr. and Mrs. De Silva were discussing something in Spanish. I was starting to feel sort of awkward, as I was clearly the only one who didn't speak Spanish. Even the kids were fluent. I heard Elena say something, and Hanna laughed, and responded in perfect Spanish (well, it sounded perfect, anyway). I also felt sort of weird being Caucasian in a Hispanic house.
Stop being stupid, I told myself. This is the twenty-first century, anyone can date whoever they want.
However, still curious, while Carmen and Elena went to find Anna, who had evidently taken the cards, I asked Jesse, "Everyone here is fluent in Spanish, huh?" even though it was more of a statement. He nodded.
"The whole family moved to the United States from Mexico when I was 6, about thirteen years ago, after my mother's parents died. My father's parents died when he was in his teens, and after they got married, he moved into my mother's house. It was one of those big Mexican families, where everyone lived together. Abuela and Abuelo were the only thing keeping my parents in Mexico, so they decided to move, and soon Luis and Cristina followed, and Elena was already going to college in California. That's where she met Jose, another Mexican immigrant going to school in America. So, obviously, Marta and I learned Spanish first. My parents continued to teach the rest of the kids."
"That's really cool," I said truthfully. Then I made a confession. "It sounds really stupid, but it kind of depresses me that we're stuck with one life. Like, I am always going to be a white girl who grew up in Brooklyn… I wish I had the chance to grow up in a Spanish-speaking household, or be black, or something," I said. "Do you know what I mean?"
(A/N: This actually depresses me. I want to grow up Bilingual, or some race other than Caucasian. I think that would be really cool.. Unfortunately, it's too late for that. And I hope I didn't come off sounding racist or anything.)
Jesse laughed. "Yes, Susannah, I know what you mean." Then he shook his head and kissed my forehead.
His sisters returned, and dealt out the deck, informing us we would be playing 'Liar.' I looked at them as they began dealing out the whole deck. "I don't think I know how to play this game."
Jesse nodded. "Yes you do. You just call it a different name." I looked at him blankly, and he gave me another look, like, "Think." Then it occurred to me.
Bullshit.
"Oh, okay." I started sorting my cards.
The game was awesome. I almost slipped up and called, "BULLSHIT!" a few times, but after a few close calls, I accustomed myself to calling, "Liar!"
I played terribly, though. I was having too much fun just watching Jesse and his sisters. Seeing them tease each other and joke around was amazing. It was so obvious that they really cared about each other.
It made me almost want little sisters.
After Elena was proclaimed winner, the two girls ran off to find their sisters, I just sat there staring at Jesse with a little smile on my face. He noticed, and asked, "What?"
I just continued to smile. "Nothing. You're just… very sweet. And the best brother anyone could ask for." He smiled, quickly glanced around the room—no one was paying attention—and leaned in and kissed me softly.
"Lo sabí! Lo sabí!" Jesse and I broke apart, to see Anna in the doorway, looking very smug and proud. "Ella no es solamente una amiga," she told Jesse. I felt left out once again.
Jesse just went over to her and tickled her, until she shrieked and ran away, laughing. Jesse came back to me, with a grin on his face. He kissed me once more on the lips, quickly, then wrapped his arm around my waist.
At two, Mrs. De Silva announced that it was ready. We all converged in the dining room, where home made cranberry sauce, stuffing, corn, mashed potatoes, rolls, squash, and a salad lay on the sideboard, where the magnificent turkey sat proudly, cooked to perfection. There were also a few dishes I didn't recognize, but took a bit anyway, feeling unusually adventurous as far as food goes.
We all went around to our seats. Jesse pulled the chair out for me. Elena was sitting next to me on the other side, and she smiled as I put my napkin on my lap and took a sip of my iced tea.
"Now, let's all say grace," Mr. de Silva said. Everyone else started holding hands, so I awkwardly took Jesse's hand and Elena's hand. I closed my eyes respectfully, waiting for the Catholic grace, "Bless us our Lord, and these, thy gifts…" but then Mr. de Silva, who was sitting at the head of the table, began praying in Spanish.
Why oh why had I taken French?
At the end, I recognized the "Amen," and I repeated it, thankful to know something. Then we started eating.
For a while I stayed with what I was familiar with, like the turkey and stuffing, while I talked with Mr. de Silva, Luis, Cristina, Jesse, and Elena.
At one point, during the dinner, Mrs. De Silva interrupted me, while I was telling Luis about something my stepbrother David had done, asking, "Susannah, you go to the Catholic Mission, correct?" I nodded. "You're Catholic, then?" I swallowed hard before answering.
"Well, my mom is. But my dad was Jewish. I was baptized and stuff, but I don't go to church. My step-dad goes on Christmas and Easter. My mom stopped going when I was a baby. I guess I'm sort of agnostic. I don't know what I believe. I only go there because my mom didn't want to send me to public school. And, well, the other private school… wasn't right for me." I figured it would be best for me to not say, "I only go to JSMA because my mom doesn't want me to join a gang, and I left the other private school because my ex-boyfriend slept with me, dumped me, and then beat me up."
She didn't say anything, just nodded curtly. Jesse's hand found mine under the table, and he squeezed it reassuringly. I shot him a grateful smile, which he returned.
I decided to try one of the Mystery Dishes. I carefully scooped a small amount onto my fork, and took a hesitant bite. It was delicious.
"Mmm, what is this?" I asked, to no one in particular. "It's really good."
"You've never had paella before?" Elena asked, incredulous. I shook my head, taking another bite.
"Of course, not, Elena," Mrs. De Silva chided. "Susannah is different than us." I choked on the piece of paya or whatever, and Jesse's fork froze in midair. The table grew still.
"What do you mean, Mother?" Jesse asked stiffly, setting his fork down. I couldn't breathe. Elena the Elder looked at my sympathetically, before shooting a disgusted glance at her sister. Mrs. De Silva seemed to be receiving them from Luis and Cristina, too. The other adults looked frightened, as did Marta, but the other children looked confused.
"Well, you can't pretend she isn't, Jesse," she said huffily. "She doesn't even speak our language."
Whatever appetite I had was gone. Actually, I felt like I was going to throw up. I was terrified. Jesse looked livid, and his knuckles were white, he was squeezing his hands so tight.
"Mother!" Marta said, scandalized. "What are you talking about?" Even though it was clearly thirteen against one, Mrs. De Silva stood her ground, with a stubborn look on her face.
"She isn't even Catholic. She comes from a completely different background. Her parents aren't even married."
"My dad died, actually," I said quietly. "When I was six. From a heart attack." I felt close to tears again. All I wanted for Jesse's mom to accept me, to love me like a daughter. But she hated me, because I'm an Anglo slut.
I guess she assumed my parents divorced, or something. That since I was obviously a terrible person, they were too, and what's more sinful that divorce?
"Lupe, lay off her. You're talking nonsense," Mr. de Silva said. "She's a good girl." Then he added something in Spanish, but that only added insult to injury.
She sniffed, ignoring her husband. "Even so, you cannot deny that you… don't fit in." I looked around, and realized she was right. Twelve sets of eyes (Jesse's were still fixed on his mother) were staring at me, in a mixture of sympathy and disgust at Mrs. De Silva. Twelve sets of brown eyes, staring at my green ones. Twelve darker skinned faces, looking at my pale face. Twelve fluent Spanish speakers, staring at me, a monolingual girl who doesn't know any Spanish beyond "Hola," "taco," and, of course, "Querida."
I slowly took my napkin from my lap, and put it next to my plate. I started to stand up, and mumble a feeble "Excuse me," but Jesse's hand grabbed my arm and pulled me back down. "Susannah," he said, still shooting daggers at his mother, "Stay. Mother, come with me." Jesse stood up, but she didn't. She just remained sitting insolently, her arms folded across her chest. "Now, Mother."
Whoa. I had no idea Jesse's voice could be so harsh and deadly and cutting. Even Mrs. De Silva looked frightened, but only for an instant. Soon, her obdurate look returned, stronger than it was before.
But she stood up.
And followed Jesse out of the dining room, through the kitchen, and back outside to the porch where they had their "discussion" earlier. Now that Jesse was no longer there to hold me in my seat, I quickly stood up and fled the room, feeling tears coming on for the second time that day.
I found the bathroom this time, though, and just tore the box of tissues from the sink counter and sank down on the cool tile floor, sobbing. How could someone be so cruel? So heartless? I loved Jesse. With all my heart. What did how many languages I spoke matter?
The day was a disaster. All I hoped for was that I would wake up, only to find I was still wrapped up in Jesse's sheets, and go to his house and be greeted with a hug and kiss on the cheek, and exclamations on how much she'd wanted to meet me…
I heard a knock at the door. "Suze?" I heard someone say. It was a woman, but I couldn't tell who it was. "Are you okay?" Then I recognized the voice. It was Marta. I grabbed a tissue and blew my nose.
"Yea, I'm fine," I lied, sniffling. The door opened a bit, and she peeked her head in. When she saw me, sprawled against the tub, gripping a box of tissues like it was lifeline, with tears down my face and my nose running like mad, she hurried over and wrapped her arms around me.
"Oh, Suze…" she said, letting me cry all over her shoulder. "Don't listen to her. No one thinks like that, we all love you." I just sat there, hugging her and sobbing. She rocked me back and forth.
Eventually, my tears stopped, and I was just left there sniffling. "Thank you," I said. I was more grateful than I could say, having this girl who I just met come and take my side when her mother berated me for being white. "This isn't the way I wanted to first meet Jesse's family."
"Jesse is madder than I've ever seen him," she said. "After you left, we heard him shouting. I've never heard him yell before." She gave me a half smile. "Not since he was about ten, at least, and I stole his plastic stethoscope and fake thermometer." Despite my anguish, I laughed. But then I groaned.
"God, I've ruined their relationship, haven't I?" I moaned. "I never should have come. I destroyed your family. It's all my fault." Marta shook her head emphatically.
"No, you didn't. None of it is your fault at all. It's my mother's. She's always been so conservative and proud of her heritage. She sometimes thinks she's still in Mexico. It's her own fault for being too closed-minded to accept amazing, awesome people who are just a bit different than we are. She dug her own grave in saying those things."
"Do any of the rest of you think that way?" I asked quietly.
"Absolutely not. I can tell, everyone adores you. And everyone can see how much you and my brother love each other."
"Is that okay, though? That's why she said those things to me earlier… Because I was taking her son away."
"You'd never take Jesse away from us," she said. "He loves you, but I know he loves us too." Then she paused. "What did my mother say to you earlier? If you don't mind my asking, of course." I shook my head.
"She told me I was a bad influence and that Jesse doesn't really love me, and it would be best for everyone if I just left him alone." Marta snorted, clearly thinking it was all bullshit.
"I have never, ever seen Jesse look at anyone like he looks at you. If he doesn't really love you, than there is no such thing as love. And how the hell would she think you're a bad influence? She just met you!"
"Well, she thinks she caught me, well, going down on Jesse." Marta looked at me incredulously.
"What?" I sighed, and recounted the story of what happened earlier that day in the car with my earring, and how her mom had found us. Marta burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, but that seriously is the worst possible first impression ever. No wonder she doesn't like you."
I guess it is something that, someday, I'd be able to laugh about. But right now it made me sick to my stomach.
However, having been significantly cheered up by Marta, we went back into the dining room (after she swore I looked good). Jesse and his mom were still out, and the adults were talking nervously, while some of the younger kids seemed blissfully naïve to what had just been going on.
"Suze!" Cristina greeted, happy to see me. "Are you alright?" I nodded.
"I'm okay, thanks for asking," I said. "I'm sorry I caused all this trouble," I apologized.
"It's not your fault at all," Mr. de Silva said, repeating what Marta had told me. "Lupe gets into her moods sometimes, it's her own doing. You are not at blame in the slightest."
"Don't listen to Lupe, Susannah," Luis said. "She doesn't know what she's talking about. All these kids have made her go crazy." I laughed politely, and took my seat, and took a few swallows of iced tea. All that crying dehydrated me.
A moment later, Jesse reentered the room, alone. "Mother doesn't feel well," he said evenly, sitting back down next to me. "She said she needs some rest."
Everyone else didn't ask questions, just resumed eating and talking. Jesse took one of my hands. "Querida, I'm so sorry. I really do not know what has gotten into my mother. Are you alright?" I nodded.
"Marta helped," I said quietly, giving her a smile. She smiled back, then turned her attention to Carmen, who was telling her something. Jesse shook his head.
"Are you sure? I really cannot apologize enough." I squeezed his hand.
"I'm okay, Jesse. But…" I bit my lip. "What happened between you and your mom?" His face darkened, and he sighed.
"Mother…is sometimes stuck in the past. She has difficulty realizing that times have changed. I just had to remind her of that." Jesse saying it that way made it seem like he was just reminding her, "Hey, it's the twenty-first century, remember?" and not the screaming match Marta reported.
"Thank you for sticking up for me," I said. He shook his head.
"Susannah, there is no need to thank me. I would never, ever stand by if someone said those things to you."
We continued eating, as if nothing had happened. Oh, I was still sort of depressed that my possibly future mother in law basically hated me, and had a new desire to get some of those Berlitz Spanish tapes out of the library. But all in all, I knew I had made a new friend in Marta, and I loved the rest of his family.
Jesse's mom re-appeared an hour or so later, but remained reclusive and didn't really talk to anyone. For a second, I felt guilty about ruining her holiday, but then I remembered what a bitch she was to me, and that she was miserable just for me existing, and I stopped feeling bad.
Later that evening, since Jesse had to "drive me back to Carmel," we left. We were bid farewell enthusiastically, and it felt good to be hugged goodbye by Jesse's aunts and uncles and sisters (his father gave me a handshake and a kiss on the cheek).
However, as I heard Jesse talking to his sisters in Spanish, again I felt the cultural barrier between us. I mean, I know he didn't care that I was a white girl, but still. I knew he noticed how quiet I was on the drive back, but he didn't say anything until we were back in the apartment.
"Querida, don't think so much about what my mother said to you," he said as he undid the buttons on his shirt. "None of it means anything." I bit my lip, and sat down on the bed.
"But Jesse, what if she was right? I mean… we come from two completely different backgrounds. I know neither of us care… but what about everyone else?" Jesse came over and sat down next to me, and took my hands.
"Susannah, we're the only people who matter. What my mother thinks doesn't change anything about how I feel about you." And then he leaned in to kiss me.
And, partly out of spite for Jesse's mother, we quickly shed each other's clothing and fell against the bed, kissing each other and loving each other.
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Okay. Long chapter for me. Hope you liked it. You might find out what Mrs. Ackerman found next chapter, if that's any incentive to review. Please?