the arrival of Dr. Stevens saves me both from having to explain further and obsessing over Nixon. Leaving the coffee on the edge of my desk, I open a blank page in my notebook and immerse myself in listening about Shakespeare’s early work, writing down notes like my whole life depends on it. In a way, it does.
“¿Qué tal las clases?”
“Classes are fine, Mamá. I’m really enjoying this semester’s selection, although there’s a lot of work to do,” I say absentmindedly as I scan the book in front of me. I was doing research for an essay just when Mom called me. It was a spur of the moment decision to study in my dorm room instead of the library, and I’m glad because otherwise I’d have missed her, and we don’t talk much as it is.
Between the two of us, we have such busy schedules it’s hard to keep track of what the other is doing, so we mostly communicate by leaving voice messages for one another.
“I’m so proud of you. You know that?” Mom asks, switching to English. Her thick Spanish accent warms something inside of me but at the same time makes my heart ache.
I’ve missed her.
Until I left for college, it’s always been just the two of us against the world. And while we had our disagreements, I always knew I could count on Mom to be there and love me in spite of everything. She never gave up on me, not even when I was at my worst.
“You only say it every time we talk, Mamá,” I tease, a smile curling my lips. “I know. Thank you for believing in me.”
Mom never went to college, and she takes great pride in knowing I’m going to one of the best universities in the country. When I was visiting during the holidays, she showed me off to the whole neighborhood, telling everybody about her smart daughter who’s in college.
I tried to brush it off, claiming it’s not a big deal, but she didn’t listen. So I kept quiet, pushing back the guilt I feel for lying to her. She can never find out the real reason how I got here because if she did, she would be crushed.
“Te amo, mí niña. But remember, you can’t be all about work. Are you making friends and having fun?”
“Ma…” I groan, already hating the direction in which this conversation is going, although I know she just wants what’s best for me.
“Don’t start with that tone, señorita,” she reprimands me, and I can see her clearly in my mind. The scowl between her brows and her wiggling her finger at me. I’ve seen her do that so many times it’s etched in my brain. “I know you’re hardworking…”
“I learned it from the best.”
She huffs off the compliment like she always does, but it’s true. She’s the most hardworking person I know, and without her, I wouldn’t have made it half this far. “We Hernandez women have a tendency to take on more than we should just to show the world that we can.”
“Ain’t that the truth.”
Somehow we’ve always been considered… less. For most things I had to work twice as hard as some of my friends to get the same acknowledgment. And once I finally got it, it was always a bittersweet win.
The same goes for my mom. So we took it upon ourselves to show everybody where to shove it and do better. Work harder.
“What I’m trying to say is, that it’s okay to take a break sometimes,” Mom says softly. “You don’t want to overwork yourself. The human body can only take so much.”
“I know, Mom. It’s just…” I don’t get to finish because the door to the room bursts open as Callie enters.
“Holy shit, how is it possible that it’s getting co—” Callie says, her body shaking. She finally notices the phone plastered to my ear and whispers, “Oops, sorry.”
I wave her off just as Mom asks, “What’s that?”
“My roommate just came into the room,” I explain.
“Oh, okay. I should get to work anyway. Say hi, and we’ll talk soon. ¿Está bien?”
“Está bien, Mamá,” I agree. “Te amo.”
“Yo a tí también.”
Ending the call, I leave my phone on the desk before turning my attention to Callie. She’s taken off her jacket and is rubbing her hands together. “What are you doing here?”
She turns around as if she’s looking for something. “Umm, this is still my room if I remember correctly.”
I roll my eyes at her because this feels