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“Good afternoon,” I reply, sporting one of my best smiles. “I’d like to see Marisa de la Rosa. Is she home?”
“And you are?”
“I’m Vanessa Arjona, from Cádiz.”
The woman disappears.
“Vanessa Arjona?” my sister whispers. “Who is Vanessa?”
With a curt wave, I shut her up.
Two seconds later, Marisa’s at the door, looking adorable in a white ensemble. Her jaw drops in terror when she sees me, but before she can react, I grab the door firmly so she can’t close it.
“Hello, bitch!”
“Cuchu!” exclaims my sister.
Marisa trembles from head to toe. I shoot my sister a look to keep her quiet.
“I just want you to know that I know where you live,” I say through gritted teeth. Marisa pales, but I continue. “Your dirty little game has pissed me off, and, believe me, if I decide to, I can be so much worse and do so much more damage than you or your friends.”
“I ... I didn’t know ...”
“Shut your mouth, Marisa!” She goes silent. “I don’t care what you have to say. You’re a bitch who used me for no reason. And as for Betta, your friend, who I’m sure you’re still in touch with, tell her that the day she crosses me again, she’ll find out who I really am.”
Marisa’s still shaking. She looks fearfully back inside.
“Please,” she pleads, “my in-laws are here and—”
“Your in-laws?” I say, interrupting her and applauding. “Great! Introduce me. I’d be happy to meet them and tell them a few things about their angelic daughter-in-law.”
Clearly unraveled, Marisa shakes her head. She’s obviously beyond terrified. I almost feel sorry for her, so I wrap things up.
“If you underestimate me again, this beautiful and comfortable life with your in-laws and your famous hubby will come to an end,” I say, “because I myself will see to it that it does, understood?”
Pale as wax, she nods. When I’ve said what I came to say, I turn to leave, but I suddenly hear my sister.
Raquel turns to Marisa and says, “If you come anywhere near my sister or her boyfriend again, I swear by the blessed glory of my mother watching us from heaven that I’ll be back here with my father’s meat cleaver in hand to take your eyes out—bitch!”
After my dear Raquel’s torrent, Marisa slams the door right in our faces. Slack-jawed, I stare at my sister as we walk toward the elevator.
“Thank God the vulgar and ill-spoken one in the family is me,” I say. Raquel laughs. “Didn’t I ask you to be quiet?”
“Look, Cuchufleta, when they hurt or mess with my family, the street fighter in me comes screaming out. As Esteban says, I get DAN-GER-OUS.”
Laughing, we get in the car and drive back to Jerez.
When we arrive, my father and brother-in-law ask about our travels. We just look at each other and laugh. We don’t say a word. This trip will remain between us.
2
It’s December 17. Christmas is coming, and all my lifelong friends who have moved away from Jerez are returning home. If the world ends on the twenty-first, as the Mayans predicted, at least we’ll have seen each other one last time.
Like we do every year, we throw a big party. Fernando organizes it at his father’s country house, and we have a great time. Laughter, dancing, and, most of all, good vibes.
During a moment of revelry, Fernando sits beside me and we talk. From what he says, I infer he knows a lot about my relationship with Eric.
“Fernando, I ...”