Dishonorable

I reached it, laid my hand on the doorknob, and took a deep breath. I needed to be prepared for nothing. The other bedrooms had no personal touches. Anyone could have lived in those rooms. My mother’s might be just as disappointing.

I opened the door and stepped inside, then, after a moment, closed it behind me.

Dust covered the floor here too, and I must have been the first person up here in a long time. The room was slightly smaller than the last, and a double bed was pushed against one corner with a window on each wall. I lifted the dustcover to find the mattress and pillow beneath. My mother had once slept on this bed.

I looked around at the bare walls. Nails had left holes in them. A vanity stood against the wall nearest the bed. I ran my finger through the dusty surface then pulled the drawer open. I smiled.

Inside, I found an old tube of half-used lipstick in an awful hot pink and a small sample of perfume. I sprayed a little and inhaled and was immediately taken back.

A tidal wave of emotion passed through me.

I didn’t have many memories of my parents. I barely remembered what they looked like anymore and had to look at photos of them often. Their voices too I couldn’t remember. I hated that. We had a few videos of birthday parties, but most of the footage was of Lina or I. Either my mom or dad were always behind the camera, and although you could hear them, they weren’t in the videos. The perfume though, that scent. It was my mother’s. I’d forgotten that too.

I sat on the edge of the seat. My heart hurt at the realization.

After setting the tiny bottle down, I ran my finger over the surface of the mirror and picked up the tube of lipstick and looked at the brand. It was a cheap drugstore brand I used to buy when I was a teen and had limited funds.

Taking the lid off, I brought it to my lips and applied some. It was hard and cakey, but I imagined her gliding it across her mouth, and it almost felt like her. It was the closest I would come to my mother physically.

Pocketing both, I closed the drawer and checked the dresser and closet. I found nothing. Not a piece of clothing. Not a forgotten stuffed animal or book or anything.

“Sofia?” My grandfather’s voice called from the distance.

Wiping my hand over my nose and eyes, I went to the door, taking one last look around. “I’m coming.”

Downstairs, the manager pointed out the new equipment they’d installed, including a new security system. He toured us through the vineyards with Charlie tagging along, playing and running at my feet. As much as I wanted to take him off leash, Grandfather asked that I refrain.

Only when we sat down at a table set for lunch did I have a few minutes to talk to him while the manager left us with glasses of wine and went to take a call.

“This is our wine, obviously,” he said to me, gesturing for me to take it.

I hesitated. He’d never allowed it at home. Not even a small taste. I picked up my glass, and he held his aloft. I touched mine to his.

“To better relationships,” he said.

“Do you mean it?” I asked after taking a sip, which was delicious.

He nodded.

“Then I want to ask you to give me guardianship of Lina.” His face changed instantly but I continued. “I want to have her here with me. I’ve missed the last four years being away at school, and—”

“That’s out of the question.”

“Why? It won’t interfere with your financial arrangement. You can carry on like you always did.”

“No, Sofia.”

“I can have the best teachers come to the house. I can—”

“What about your husband? I’m sure he wouldn’t want your sister hanging around. He hates us, remember that.”

“He doesn’t hate us.”

He bowed his head, his lips tight. “Right. He hates me.”

“I miss my sister.”

“Then you’ll have to convince Amado to let you return to the States for visits.”

“Will you at least think about it? Let her stay the summer at least?”

Two women and the manager returned then, carrying plates of food, warm smiles on their faces. Our conversation came to a halt, and I knew it was hopeless. When Grandfather decided, he decided. It was how it always was growing up. He made the rules. We obeyed them.

But we weren’t kids anymore. I wouldn’t let him bully me into silence, not with something as important as this.

I sat through lunch not speaking much, frustration mounting in my belly, rebellion at my powerlessness. While Grandfather and the manager talked business, I pushed food around my plate and decided Maria was a much better cook. By the time the plates were cleared, I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer.