Carmela + Amos

Chapter 5 - Carmela

Dear diary,

          When I look at photos from my wedding day, I see a foolish, naive girl. There I am in a frilly tank top, tiny frayed jean shorts, and a cheap bouquet in hand. And there Rodrigo is in his tight leather pants, a faded black muscle-tee showing off the ink on his torso, and his long dark hair still wind-blown from the park. Eloping seemed romantic, but having a random person walk me down the aisle instead of my father and an ordained minister dressed as Elvis, is all too ridiculous now.

I almost tore up those photos a few days ago.

But today, I'm glad I didn't.

Now, my only regret is hurting my parents and the joy I robbed them of seeing their youngest get married. 

The drive back to the Bay Area the next day was longer than the drive to Reno. We sat in traffic for two hours trying to get through Sacramento when usually it would have taken less than thirty. As soon as we crossed the Bay Bridge with its iron suspension cables glinting under the San Francisco sun, reality settled in. I was a married woman, which meant I no longer had to abide by my parent's rules. A thrilling life was about to begin with me at Rodrigo's side while conquering the music world. 

Together, we would accomplish his dream of getting signed to a major music label, and we'd use his money to buy a mini-mansion with an extravagant pool, a home gym, and a personal chef. Then, for vacations, we'd sail around in a yacht drinking champagne. But, after a few years, we'd trade it for taking our children to an all-inclusive Disney World resort. My head was so submerged in wedded bliss I believed all of it could come true. 

But sobriety smacked me like an iceberg as soon as we entered my parent's home.

I thought they'd be happy for me when I walked through the door, with Rodrigo in tow and cheap wedding bands on our fingers. Instead, the living room turned into a fit of shouting as my father demanded to know why I stayed out all night without a single phone call. When I stuttered over my words and finally spat out the truth, his attention swung from me to Rodrigo. 

"And who is this coward who couldn't be bothered to introduce himself!" 

"He's my husband." I motioned to Rodrigo, but my father snarled.

"He can speak for himself!"

"It's ok, baby." Rodrigo kissed my temple and stepped forward to address the question. "I didn't ask you because Carmela can make her own choices and whether you like it or not, we're married."

"Por Dios, no!" my mother wailed, her body sinking onto the couch where she cradled herself as the protective plastic squeaked underneath her.

"You're an idiot, Carmela!" my sister Lina accused. 

"How could you do this to mom and dad?" Teresa demanded.

"We love each other. Why can't you be happy for us?" I bounced my gaze between them, but my sisters shook their heads.

"How can we be happy for a fool throwing her life away?" Lina scoffed.

"Grab your shit, Carmela! We don't have to listen to this," Rodrigo said, and I marched past my family like an obedient little wife, chin held high. 

They didn't understand our love, and I hated them for receiving us with anger instead of congratulations. They wanted to stand in our way and control my future. At least that's what I thought. Now, I don't blame them.

"This marriage will not stand!" my father said. "If it's not before God, it doesn't count."

"God?" Rodrigo sneered. "God is a fairytale, and your daughter is a grown woman. She can do whatever she wants."