Sympathy winged through me again. No one deserved that. My breath caught in my throat, as I tried to think of an adequate response. Luckily, Blanche kept going, and I stayed quiet.
“Belén wanted to be blonde and popular like the prom queens and the class presidents, but when she looked in the mirror, she saw her serious face, and her dark hair and skin. It is devastating to know your peers make assumptions about you based on what you look like, where you come from, and your interests. She desperately wanted to feel that she was good enough. That she could be special and important too. Yet, because of the actions of others, she convinced herself that she could never amount to anything.”
My snark antenna went up at that, and I clenched my jaw. “But that’s exactly what it feels like she does to me. I don’t understand.”
Blanche ignored my sassiness again and kept on turning cards and telling her tale. “Her father and I feared she’d never find peace with herself. But when she got to college, everything changed. Her very first class was taught by a highly intelligent and successful woman with a doctorate degree. Belén was completely starstruck and inspired. The professor was everything Belén dreamed of being, and she wasn’t blonde. It was almost as if this woman gave her permission to be Belén again. She also introduced her to other like-minded students and professors on campus. People from all backgrounds. For the first time, she had friends. They accepted her just as she was, and her confidence began to return.” There was a wistfulness to Blanche’s voice as she spoke that hadn’t been there before.
“Wasn’t that a good thing?”
“Of course. I was happy for my little girl. She earned prestigious internships and was invited to conferences and even on vacations with her new friends. But she came home less and less. In some ways, her group became an alternate family.”
I looked at Blanche and saw the lines of heartache in her face. “Do you regret it? Not pushing her harder? I mean, do you think she looks back on her childhood and wishes she’d been a ballerina and a pianist and taken a million honors classes, like she made Tilly do? Do you think she believes that would have been better? I mean, that ludicrous parenting blog she loves probably makes her feel like she missed out.”
She looked directly into my eyes, with a renewed intensity. “I will never regret doing what I thought was right for my child. Even if, looking back, she wishes I had chosen differently for her. And I would wager that Belén feels the same way now about Matilda. And you.”
“So, then what? She met these people, found herself, found validation, and …?”
Blanche sighed. “She met Matilda’s father through her college friends, she graduated, they got married, she became pregnant right away. Daniel died unexpectedly during the pregnancy, and a few years later, she met your father. You know the rest.”
“So she learned how to be a dictator from her college and law school friends?”
Blanche looked at me sharply. “I don’t think that’s a fair assessment, Tatum.”
My face fell. She’d never chastised me before. “Sorry.”
“And no, I don’t think that. I will always be grateful to her college friends for bringing her back to herself and supporting her when she needed it. However, I do think that becoming a parent changed her view on a lot of things. You’ll probably feel the same one day. The way she has chosen to raise Matilda certainly suggests she believes setting a particular type of example is better than others. Whether it came from her friends, the internet, books, out of spite for me, I do not know. She and I do not always agree on what happiness or success look like; but we do wish for the same things, regardless of definition, for Matilda, and for you.”
I would’ve thought this would be the point where Blanche became angry or upset about Belén’s choices, but she went back to matter-of-fact. Maybe I’d been wrong about her? I raised one eyebrow. “And she’d probably flip her lid if I said I wanted to be a cheerleader. Does she think she’s protecting us?”
“Some things are hard to forget, Tatum. Do not underestimate the power fear has over our choices.” Blanche shifted the cards in her hands back and forth, as if trying to decide if she wanted to play another game or not. “As I said, we do what we think is right for our children. I did, and she does.”
I had a hard time imagining Belén being afraid of anything. Her tough exterior, in my eyes, had always made her the thing to be feared. And yet, on the other hand, it all made sense.
“If your choices back then were so wrong”—I made bunny ears—“how come you kept the name Blanche?”
She smiled faintly. “When you find something you love, something that suits you, you stick with it.”
I nodded. “So, not to be dense, but what was the point of this story?”
She laid the cards back down on the table in a neat pile. “I wanted you to have some context, Tatum. It’s just an explanation.”
“For why she’s been so hard on me?”
“If that’s how you’d like to see it. I was actually hoping it might encourage you to examine your own actions.”
Oh. I flushed again, but this time with shame. Had I really been so awful to Belén? “Right. Um, thanks for sharing.” Dazed, I climbed the stairs and went back to my room.
I wanted to empathize with my stepmother, even though I’d never really been able to before. I was glad Blanche told me what growing up was like in their house, though. I couldn’t even imagine what it would have felt like to be teased or judged for the way I looked. I kinda wanted to go back in time and dropkick those kids for being ignorant jerks. Blonde was fine, but it wasn’t equal to perfection, and Belén was prettier and smarter than almost anyone else—her strictness couldn’t take that away. I knew Blanche was trying to get me to stop being so stubborn, and I guess deep down I agreed with her. Even I could brush away my righteous indignation to see it was possible that all of Belén’s rules for life came from a place of good intentions. Care for me and a desire to protect me. But changing the way I responded to her rules? Actually doing it would be harder than thinking about it. Unraveling years of feeling hurt and overlooked was going to take a lot of effort on my part. Then again, if Blanche and Belén could build a bridge, maybe Belén and I could as well. If I wanted to make even a ripple in this pond, I was going to have to be the bigger person. I just hoped I had the strength to do it.
Chapter 13
Dear Tate,
Seriously? I can’t believe it. I always knew there was more underneath the surface with Tilly than she let on.
I kind of have to give her props, though, for going behind the stepmonster’s back. Belén is going to freak when she finds out. Wouldn’t it be terrific if your dad and Belén came for the end-of-summer performance and, oops, no one’s wearing toe shoes?