Not from humor.
From disbelief.
“Do you know what hurts most?”
Mom stared at me.
“What?”
“For six weeks, you acted interested.”
“We were interested.”
“No. You were interested until Berenice needed the room back.”
“That is a horrible thing to say.”
“It’s true.”
Berenice stood.
“You always hated that I had a good life.”
I looked at her.
“I never hated your life.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Enjoying what?”
“That my marriage is over.”
I felt something inside me go quiet.
“You honestly believe that?”
She did not answer.
I picked up my purse.
Mom sighed.
“Jimena, don’t make this dramatic.”
I stopped at the doorway.
“I’m not upset because you canceled food and flowers.”
“Then why?”
“Because you erased me again.”
Her face changed.
I continued.
“You could have asked me.”
“You would have said no.”
“Yes.”
“That proves my point.”
“No, Mom. It proves why you didn’t ask.”
Dad stood.
“Enough.”
I looked at him.
For years, that word had ended every argument.
That evening, it did not.
“No.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“Excuse me?”
“No. I’m done having my life adjusted around whatever Berenice needs.”
I walked out before anyone could answer.
The drive home blurred.
Red lights.
Brake lights.
My hands tight around the steering wheel.
When I reached our apartment, Hector was waiting.
“What happened?”
I sat on the couch.
“My mom canceled the dinner.”
He stared.
“What?”
I told him everything.
Halfway through, my phone began buzzing.
Messages.
Calls.
Notifications.
Aunt Patricia:
Your mom told me what happened. I’m sorry the engagement dinner had to be canceled.
Cousin Ana:
Are you okay? Carmen said everything was too emotionally complicated right now.
Uncle Miguel:
We heard about Berenice. Terrible situation. Maybe postponing your event is best.
Then another message.
Grandma Teresa:
Your mother said you decided not to have the dinner because of family circumstances. Is that true?
I stopped reading.
Hector took the phone gently.
“What?”
“She changed the story.”
He read.
“She told everyone I agreed.”
More messages appeared.
Mom had not simply canceled the celebration.
She had rewritten me.
Again.
I covered my face.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
Hector sat beside me.
“Then don’t.”
I lowered my hands.
“What?”
“Don’t do it their way.”
“What am I supposed to do? Half the guests already canceled travel.”
“We wanted something small from the beginning.”
I stared at him.
He took out his phone.
“Let’s have something small.”
“Two weeks.”
“So?”
“Every restaurant in San Antonio is booked.”
“My sister exists for emergencies.”
He called Monica.
She answered on the third ring.
“Hector, somebody better be injured.”
“No.”
“Then why are you calling after nine?”
“Jimena’s engagement dinner got canceled.”
Silence.
Then:
“By her mother?”
“Yes.”
“I knew it.”