Poor Angela, she had sacrificed her family for a worthless man. I’m so sorry, daughter. Where are you now? I’m at the apartment, but I don’t know for how long. Mom, can I come see you? I need… I need to talk to someone. I don’t have anyone else. The irony was perfect.
Now that she was without the man she’d left me for, I remembered I had a mother. Of course, daughter. Come whenever you want. I’m going there right now. I hung up the phone and looked at myself in the mirror. I had to look perfect for this performance. I put on my most conservative gray dress, pulled my hair back into a simple bun, and practiced my concerned-but-resigned-mother expression.
When Angela arrived, she would see exactly what she expected to see. A poor, vulnerable widow who had been abandoned by her own daughter. Angela arrived an hour later. When I opened the door, I was shocked at how bad she looked. She had lost weight, had deep dark circles under her eyes, and her expensive clothes looked wrinkled and unkempt. Her eyes were red from crying.
“Mom,” she said, and for a moment I thought she was going to hug me, but she stopped as if suddenly remembering how things had ended between us. “Come in, daughter. Do you want a coffee?” Yes, please. We sat in the kitchen, at the same table where I had read Roberto’s papers weeks before. Angela looked small in that chair, lost, like when she was a child, coming to tell me about her school problems.
Mom, I’m so sorry for how I left. I know I didn’t behave well with you. It’s over now, daughter. No, it wasn’t. I treated you badly, I said horrible things to you. And now my voice broke. Now I have no one. What happened to Eduardo? He left with a 25-year-old hotel maid in Paris. It turns out there was never any business in Europe. It was all a lie.
He just wanted to escape the debts he had here, and he used the money from the sale of your house to finance his adventure. All the debts. Yes, Mom, lots of debts. It seems he’d been taking out loans for years, using the apartment we lived in as collateral, but now I find out he wasn’t the owner. How is that possible? Here was my chance.
I don’t know, daughter. Property matters are very complicated. The problem is that now the banks are chasing me for his debts. They say that since we were married, I’m also responsible. And on top of that, this eviction letter. Mom, I don’t know what to do. I have no money, no job, nowhere to live.
She started to cry. Real tears of genuine despair. And for a moment, my mother’s heart softened. I wanted to hold her, comfort her, tell her everything was going to be okay, but then I remembered the coldness in her voice when she called me from the doctor’s, how easily she’d dismissed me, the way she’d spoken to me as if I were a burden.
Did you speak to a lawyer about the letter? I don’t have money for a lawyer, Mom. We spent all the money in Europe. Eduardo took what little was left when he left with that woman. And what are you going to do? I don’t know. I thought maybe I could stay with you for a while, just until I found a job and could get a small place to live.
There was the question I’d been waiting for. After kicking me out of my own house, after selling my things, after treating me like garbage, now she wanted me to rescue her. She wanted the poor widow she’d created to save her from the consequences of her own actions.
Of course, daughter, this will always be your house. Angela looked at me in surprise, as if she hadn’t expected it to be so easy. Really, Mom, after everything that’s happened, you’re my daughter, Angela. That will never change. She stood up and this time she hugged me. It was the desperate hug of someone drowning and clinging to the only thing she could find.
I hugged her too, but not with the unconditional love of before. Now there was calculation in my embrace. Strategy. Thank you, Mom. I promise I’ll find a job soon. I’m not going to be a burden. Don’t worry about that now. Rest, recover, and then we’ll see what options you have.
Angela left that afternoon to get some things from her apartment. I stayed in the kitchen thinking how easy it had been. She had come to me exactly as I had planned: broken, desperate, without options. And the best part was, she didn’t suspect a thing. To her, I was still the poor, abandoned mother who needed her sympathy. But this was only the first part of my plan.
Having her live with me would give me the perfect opportunity for the next phase. I was going to let her settle in, let her feel safe, let her believe she’d found refuge in my house, and then, when she least expected it, I was going to teach her the difference between being poor by choice and being poor by consequence.
That night, I called Jorge. Jorge, I need you to do something else for me. Tell me, Mrs. Antonia, I want you to investigate Eduardo’s debts. I want to know exactly how much he owes, to whom, and what legal options I have to separate them from my daughter. That’s going to take time, but it’s doable. Perfect. And Jorge, I want you to keep this absolutely secret.
No one can know I’m behind this investigation. Of course, Mrs. Antonia, may I ask what your ultimate plan is? My plan, Jorge, is very simple. I’m going to save my daughter, but first she has to understand what hitting rock bottom really means. When I hung up, I poured myself a glass of the wine Roberto saved for special occasions.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had an occasion as special as this. The game had begun, and for the first time in months, I had all the cards in my hand. Angela moved into my house the next day. She arrived with two suitcases and a cardboard box, all that remained of her previous life.
