Because You're Different ✔

70. Letters [Part 2]

I stretched and yawned. There was a dull pain in the muscles of my upper leg, so I tried not to move too much. Eight o'clock, and Luis was finally quiet, no sounds coming from our bedroom anymore. I loved the little guy, really, but I imagined perishing from a lack of sleep was much more satisfying if you did it for your own kids. Honestly, if I'd known David had accidentally got some woman pregnant, I would've thought twice before agreeing to get an apartment with him and Valentina. Even with tía Paciencia coming over a few times a day to help, taking care of a baby, dinner, and my business was just too much.

Not that I'd ever confess that, to anyone. What if I ever wanted a child of my own, and they'd be like: "Remember, back then? You couldn't handle it." Oh well... Maybe it didn't matter anyway. Maybe Luis was the closest I would ever come to being a mother. It certainly seemed like it. Even abuela thought so — I realized that when I heard some girls from the neighborhood complain about her asking them if they'd found a man yet every time they visited. She'd never asked me.

The lock clicked, and the door opened, revealing a Valentina who was so exhausted her eyes were drooping. With a drawn-out groan, she stumbled inside, dumping her bag on the floor and throwing herself in the chair beside me. "I. Am. Not. Alive," she said, dramatically spreading out her arms and legs.

"So... you're dead?"

A theatrical sigh. "Yes. I hate college. I hate waitressing. I swear, honey, I'm gonna quit and become a stripper."

Considering she'd sworn that about ten times before and never went through with it, it was safe to take that comment with a grain of salt. Especially since she would be graduating in a few months. While she went on to complain about her sexist teachers and rude customers, I put some leftover macaroni in the microwave for her to eat, knowing she'd be hungry. "Oh, by the way," she said, "I ran into David just now. He's not coming home tonight, but he wanted me to tell you something about having a new client? Either an app or a website, I'm not sure."

Great. Thanks for the info, Vale. This was exactly why I let David handle my phone calls and not her. I'd rather have done it myself, of course, but I'd found out the hard way people weren't inclined to hire a young girl with a weird voice. From then on, David had covered that part of the business, making good use of his magnificent impersonation skills. He could easily pass for British royalty if he did his best.

And he actually knew how to take notes.

"Wait, honey, what's this?"

In a flash, I turned around. Fuck. The acceptance letters. I meant to hide them before she came home. She was holding one of them, her lips moving soundlessly as her eyes roamed the page. Oh no...

"Nothing," I said, trying to pull the paper from her hands.

She moved back, though, out of my reach, never leaving the letter. "You better get that microwave before it beeps and the hot dog wakes up."

Normally, I'd scold her for calling Luis a hot dog, but right now, a slight panic bubbling in my stomach told me to listen to her. Right before it counted down to zero, I pushed the stop button, then turned around to get back to preventing her from reading the letters. Too late.

She jumped up, marched towards me, and harshly shoved one of them in my face. In a blur, I recognized the yellow and blue of Berkeley. Pulling back, she pointed at the logo, more aggressively than needed, seemingly suddenly wide awake. "You applied to Berkeley?" she said. "To Berkeley? I thought you were only going to apply to community colleges? Freaking Berkeley, June?"

"Yes," I said, because there was no way I was getting out of this one. "And Stanford."

Her mouth fell open, a little too dramatically, and she waved her arms through the air. "O my god... You got into Stanford?"