June

The same song had been playing on repeat for the last six hours, making me feel nothing with its silent words and grieving guitars. I was only aware of my own breathing — everything else I did was on autopilot, showing tickets, boarding planes, looking out the window. Of course, it was raining in New York, and I was thankful for it. Sunshine would've been too unreal.

I'd fallen for it again. After all those lessons teaching me I could never be normal in other people's eyes, I'd fallen for it again. My own fault.

When I opened the door, the apartment was empty, no Valentina or David to be seen. Dirty mugs and caked up plates still filled the sink, washed clothes stood to dry next to the couch, and a small puddle was already forming beneath the buzzing fridge. Almost like nothing had changed in those two weeks, while my heart told me everything had changed.

Time to stop the music. I knew it would let in all the pain, I knew it would hurt so bad, but right now, I was at least alone. I could cry by myself, hug myself to sleep, put on a brave face tomorrow.

I dumped my bag and yanked out my earbuds.

No hurt could come yet, though, because I wasn't alone at all.

Suddenly, a bone-deep tiredness seeped through my body, nestling itself in every little corner. The universe really was doing its best to get me down today. Had I ever done anything to deserve this? Maybe the past lives thing was true, and I'd committed some horrifying crimes in my previous one. By now, that was the only logical explanation left.

I shuffled to my bedroom door and opened it. On the bed sat my mother, holding Luis in her arms while he sniffed softly, patting him on the back and singing like she used to sing for me. I hadn't seen her in a while, and although that was how I liked it best, witnessing her giving her love to a child that wasn't me was another jab at my already shattered heart. She looked up at me, her eyes sharp, taking my appearance in with her lips pressed together.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, before she could comment on my return, or on the dress I was still wearing, totally inappropriate for the situation and the weather.

She raised her eyebrows, like that was a weird question. "Babysitting. Paciencia sprained her ankle trying to get on a packed train."

If only tía Paciencia would've lived up to her name for once and possessed even an ounce of patience, I wouldn't be standing here, talking to the last person I wanted to talk to right now. "Well, as you can see, you're not needed anymore. I'm here now. So, you can leave."

Something sour played with the corner of her mouth, and she seemed to stare right through me. I despised how well she knew me, my own mother, how well she knew me but still wanted me to be someone else. "What's the matter, June? Rich, white boy didn't want to marry you?"

Fuck. That one went straight through me, cutting me right down the middle. Did she have some kind of mind-reading powers? If so, did she really need to prod into my wounds, dig a little deeper? "No, he didn't, actually," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Not that it's any of your business."

That stern frown on her face, only making her older than she already seemed, with her big sweater and grey-streaked hair falling to her shoulders. She had gotten so many wrinkles in such a short time, almost like her body was already giving up. "Any rich, white boys who my daughter pines for are my business. I warned you, remember, and you didn't listen."

I huffed. Go away, you witch. If this was what your love was like, I didn't need it. All at once, my anger returned, waking up my befuddled brain. I burned my eyes into hers, only it never seemed to affect her in any way. "You know, you're really confusing sometimes, mom. You used to tell me I should marry him. And then, for some reason, you completely changed your mind." She didn't respond to that, just kept on caressing Luis' small back, his big head leaning on her shoulder. "I've never understood why, to be honest."

She opened her mouth now, ready to give me an answer I didn't want to hear. It didn't matter. I waved dismissively, cutting her off: "I don't care either. I'm sure you'll tell me something about rich and white, and poor and brown, and not needing anyone to take care of you."

"That's exactly what I would say. Seems like I got through to you after all."

A short laugh escaped me. Not really. Because until today, I'd considered all of it to be untrue. Now I just didn't know anymore. "Great. Well, no point in giving me a speech then. Please go. I can take care of him." I sat down on my bed, as far away from her as possible, and held out my arms.

She didn't move. Her eyes narrowed, and her hands stopped caressing the baby she was holding. "You know, June," she said, her tone as the edge of a knife, "I really don't understand you. You got what you wanted. You're going to Berkeley. And still, you manage to be whiny about some boy you knew never loved you back."

My hands curled into fists, and I bit my lip hard to prevent my mouth from straining. Awful woman. Was this what mothers were like? "Oh, sorry, I didn't know I wasn't allowed to be sad when someone breaks my heart." I pressed my fists into my legs, wishing it would outdo the pain of the broken shards that was once my heart. "He lied to me twice. It hurts."

She only snorted. "That's life. People lie. People lie, and you get over it. You don't need anyone but yourself, June."

Another lie. If there was anything I'd learned was that no one, especially not me, could do all of it alone. I looked at her, at her set jaw and rigid body, and wondered, for the first time, if she was lying to herself. "What about dad?"

I'd carefully avoided mentioning him to her in the past year, and now her apparent shock was reminding me of a few nights ago, sobbing in the arms of the guy who'd lied to me.

"Your dad was special."

"And what about me, huh? Am I special too?"

For a second, something in me hoped she'd say 'yes, of course', instantly, and that I could relax, even it was just for a moment. She didn't, though. "You're my daughter."

"That's not an answer."

There was a deep sigh as she gently put Luis on the bed between us, his eyes drooping, lips smacking quietly. His little body was warm, and it was comforting. "What do you want me to do?" she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "You never listen to me. You always think you know better. What do you want me to be? Because I can't be your dad. I can't sit here and dry your tears after you've done something I told you would end badly." Then, as a miracle, she placed her hand on mine, three whole seconds long. "You've got so much going on in your life. You're going to Berkeley. Why can't you just be proud of yourself?"

I was too tired to argue with her. Too tired to think about our relationship, about what I wanted her to be. Obviously, she couldn't be dad, not even right now, when I needed a hug more than ever. "Please leave," I said, the words almost unintelligible. Everything was tense, and it was all due to her. "I'm tired. We can talk some other day." If I wanted to.

"Fine." She rose up. "Don't cry over him, June. Don't let him have that sort of power. He's not worth it." And she walked out, leaving nothing but the smell of her detergent.

Luis' eyes were wide open again. He smiled, reaching out for me with his soft arms.

I picked him up, cradled him against me, and started crying anyway.

Luis was asleep. I'd been standing next to his crib for a while, watching his chest go up and down rapidly, listening to his hurried baby breaths. His presence was soothing, but my legs had started to ache, begging me to sit down. I'd moved to the couch, wrapped my arms around my knees, and tried not to think.

A fresh batch of tears slipped down my cheeks, because nothing made sense anymore, and I hated it. Hated discovering you never really knew someone. Hated that after all, I was so, so alone.

Outside in the hallway, someone burst into a loud fit of giggles, followed by a bang on the door. I startled, quickly wiping my face clean with the edge of my sleeve. The person stuck their key into the lock, slow and clumsy, and then, the door opened, and Valentina staggered in, followed by Javier, her let's-not-name-it-though-you're-my-boyfriend. She looked incredible in a tight backless dress, small feet tucked in glittering stilettos, and he was staring at her with his mouth slightly open, already tearing off her clothes with his eyes. It was pathetic, but the sight of it hurt as badly as thinking of this morning.

She was laughing, putting her bag on the coffee table. That was when she saw me, and her face fell. "June!" she called out. "What are you doing here? Are you okay?"

I shook my head. I didn't know what else to do.

It seemed like I didn't need to do anything else anyway. She tilted her head, her hair catching the light of the lamp, and sent me a message with her eyes. She understood. With a sigh, she turned to Javier, placing her hands on his chest. She told him something, quietly, and he nodded, his gaze flickering to me before immediately focusing on her again. A quick kiss, and he was gone.

Valentina plumped down next to me, half crashing into my body. She'd probably been drinking, also judging by the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke oozing from her. "What happened?" she asked, pulling me towards her, pushing my head on her chest. It wasn't as comfortable as she seemed to think it was, with the stench she was giving off, but I was grateful for it.

"I fell in love again," I said, my words muffled because of my awkward position. "And then got my heart broken."

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. Men are pigs."

She said it with so much conviction, so thoughtlessly, that I couldn't help but laugh. I sat up, still laughing, watching her frowning face. "I really thought this one wasn't." My hands were shaking, fingers bending backward. Even fingers, full of cuts and scrapes, but no lighter band of skin. "He's going to ask some other woman to marry him. I saw the ring." Maybe he already did by now. Maybe he hadn't even realized I wasn't there anymore.

"The asshole!"

I didn't startle. I was hurting so much, this shapeless, gaping hole in the middle of me, that nothing else really seemed to matter. "It's my own fault," I said. "I should've known by now."

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing."

"June, what are you talking about?"

"Never mi—" But she'd grabbed my chin, forcing me to look into her eyes.

"What," she said slowly, "are you talking about?"

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. If I did, she would feed me some bullshit on how I was amazing and all guys could go take a hike and she'd visit Nathan for me to slap him to hell. While if I stayed silent, she'd go nervous, tapping her fingers like she did now.

Eventually, she scratched her neck, throwing her hair back over her shoulder. She glanced at me, then away, then at me again. A deep breath. "I need to confess something," she said then, and by the way her eyes darted through the room, I almost thought she was going to admit she once slept with Nathan. "I mean, I thought I was doing the right thing. It seemed like a good idea, at the time." And there was the lost-puppy look, with hanging shoulders and begging eyes, reminding me so much of my dad. "Remember when I sent in your applications, that night when I came home drunk?"

Yes. I did. What did that have to do with anything?

"I err... did something," she continued, "I err... I kind of emptied the scholarship applications."

I thought nothing she could say could confuse me any more than I already was.

Turned out I was wrong.

"What? Why?"

She held her hands up in the air, shrugging. "I mean, it was clear you wanted to go back to him. You think I don't notice anything, but I saw you googling him every now and then. And then those applications were there, and I was a little drunk, and you left the room—"

Oh no. Please no. I couldn't take this. Not now. All of this had happened because she wanted to play Valentina-the-matchmaker? She could've ruined my whole future — I had the money now, yes, but what if he'd refused? I'd be nowhere.

Abruptly, I got up from the couch, the first time falling back again, the second time succeeding, and marched to my room. I only just heard: "You practically begged me to do it!". Then, I closed the door, as loudly as possible without waking up Luis, and collapsed on my bed.

In that moment, I missed my dad more than ever.