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My girl rolled her eyes and handed me her glass.

“See you at the dinner table.” Those were Kendra's last words before being dragged by her cousin to the side of the stage, where the other family members were.

Delilah didn't take her eyes off me. I felt her irises burning my back, but it wasn't in a good way. It wasn't like it used to be when I was a teenager. This time there was anger and hatred in those eyes. One side of me repressed myself for having said that to her, but on the other hand I felt great gratification. The way Veronica saw me deserved to be recognized. Hayley's words lingered in my mind, and each day they made more sense. All it took was one look at Veronica to feel the overwhelming urge to shout from the rooftops just how happy she made me. All her affection, smile, voice, skin, care and even teasing resulted in something that was just ours.

I was in love with that intense and talented short latina girl. And I refused to let someone jealous destroy it. In that relationship, it was enough for me to carry my own fears; I didn’t need the fear of someone else struggling to accept themselves to come between us.

“Hey, earth calling... Kendra?!” My mother's voice brought me back to reality.

We were all sitting at the table. Dad had invited Veronica's uncles, her and Derek to sit with us. Her aunt, Isabel, seemed a bit suspicious, while her uncle, Hendrix, was more relaxed. Of course, the main attention was on the couple of the moment: Colleen and Derek. Aunt Ivy had already made half a dozen unpleasant comments and Uncle Conrad seemed nicer than usual, but that didn't mean much either.

“Sorry, I'm a little distracted.” I commented, trying to escape the embarrassment of not paying attention to the conversation.

“Okay... Dear, tell us a little about practice, I know that the three of you train on the same team, so tell us about it.”

I definitely didn't want to talk about it.

“It's hard work, it demands a lot and, well, it's a sport like any other, the difference is that I have to put on false eyelashes for competitions…” I declared with good humor.

Everyone laughed. And luckily, Colleen took charge of the situation, making her comments about being a cheerleader. Ivy, once again, managed to make an unpleasant comment.

“Thank God your time is running out with this nonsense, this is something for little girls and vulgar women who have no future.”

My mother and Isabel's withering looks at Ivy were relentless.

“Why do you insist on not learning to shut up, Ivy?” My mother thought out loud, irritated. My father placed his hand on hers, silently asking for peace, but Isabel quickly came up with a complement:

“Are you jealous because she's young? She can go on stage, twerk, do whatever acrobatics she wants and yet, this would be the sport that shapes the good character your daughter shows she has.” Veronica stopped herself from laughing and my cousin seemed too delighted to have two people defending her from her own mother. “Well, it turns out that Colleen is really quite different from you, and that's a good thing, Mrs. Bryant.”

The hatred on Ivy's face was unmistakable, but neither woman seemed to care. My mom, if given the chance, would have fought Ivy a long time ago, and Isabel didn’t seem like the kind to let an insult slide. It became clear where Veronica got her fiery temper from.

I was having fun with it, honestly, but the abrupt action coming from one of the tables caught everyone's attention. A drunk Delilah got up too quickly and bumped into a waiter, causing him to throw all the glasses on his tray onto the floor.

Dad placed his napkin under the table and declared that he would go there to check on the situation.

Veronica's hand slipped under the table and touched my thigh.

“Are you good?” She whispered discreetly.

“I need some air, I think.”

She agreed.

“Do you want me to come along?” Always so helpful.

I smiled and denied.

“I'd like to go by myself.”

I got up from the table and asked everyone for permission. Mom didn't give me the softest look, but she didn't question it. I left the tables and walked to the other side of the room, leavingthrough one of the glass doors, heading to the garden. The last time I was there I cried my eyes out over my parents' divorce, but this time I didn't want to cry, I just wanted to calm my anxious heart.

The cold air entered my lungs like medicine as I inhaled and exhaled deeply several times. I felt as if I was locked in a very dark place and there was a crack in the door, a light was coming in from there and my most honest feeling about it all was ripping off that door, breaking it completely and seeing the light on the other side. I felt suffocated. It was as if I couldn't keep that secret any longer, it was as if I wanted to shout it out.

Veronica deserved me to shout it for her.

But, above all, I deserved to scream for myself.

I felt my eyes getting wet, but I refused to cry. That wasn't sad, it was liberating.