Archive of Our Own

Many words have been used to describe Pepa over the years, and most of them have not been pleasant. 

Unstable. Emotional. Temperamental. Sensitive. Dramatic. 

It’s not something that one wants to hear about their child. 

For Alma, coming to the realisation that she’s used those adjectives to describe her own child, is even worse.

Alma has been guilty of using these words to describe her daughter; often, she did it right to her face, without realising the true impact that her words had. 

“Pepa, you’re being dramatic.”

“Pepa, you’re worrying over nothing.”

“I’m so tired of your crying and whining. Get it together.”

“Calm down. You have no reason to look so distressed.”

She assumed that Pepa took these things with a pinch of salt and didn’t care; Alma assumed that Pepa hadn’t been listening anyway. She never did. Everything anyone said went in one ear, and out the other. 

If she listened, she’d have behaved herself more than twice a year. And that’s if Alma was lucky. 

Someone who listened and took things in wouldn’t continue to make her mother’s life a misery simply for the sake of it.

Was it boredom, or attention seeking? Alma never knew.

She wouldn’t make a drama over petty little things that didn’t matter, simply to get at Alma. 

She wouldn’t refuse to sleep in her bed because her new sheets felt “wrong”.

She wouldn’t reject an entire plate of food simply because two different foods were touching one another. 

She’d try harder. She’d think before she spoke or acted.

She’d be more like Julieta. 

It wasn’t until Agustín screamed at her almost two decades ago that the damage she was causing became real to her. She gave Pepa an unnecessarily hard time for being different. She scolded and berated Pepa for not acting in the way that Alma expected.

The way that Alma thought everyone should act.

She acted like Pepa did things to be purposely defiant, not because she genuinely saw the world differently, and struggled to handle the rejection that came with that.

Including rejection from her own mother; the one person who was supposed to love her no matter what, and protect her. 

Alma loved her. Certainly she loved her. But had she protected her? Not nearly as much as she should. It had been a horrible realization to have in hindsight.

In that moment, she knew she had to change or risk permanently damaging the relationship between her and Pepa. 

It’s one thing simply saying that things will change, simply to move the conversation on because it’s distressing. No one enjoys being told off and having their flaws pointed out to them, after all.

It’s another thing to actually put the work and effort in. 

It’s still a work in progress for Alma. She’s come so far, but realistically, her work will never be done. 

Even now, she finds herself having to evaluate what she’s going to say before she says it. 

Although things are much better, she still makes mistakes. It’s human nature. Especially when she’s actually very temperamental herself.

No one is perfect; not even someone who owns a magic candle and lives in a magic house.

What Alma knows for certain is that she loves her triplets. All of them. 

As difficult as Pepa had been to parent, particularly in childhood, Pepa is her life. She’s her baby. Even though Pepa is in her forties with children of her own, and even a grandchild, she’s very much her baby and will be until the final breath leaves Alma’s body. 

As much as Pepa will argue otherwise, even to this day, she’s just as loved as Julieta and Bruno are. 

She is worth making the effort for, because Alma loves her with everything in her. 

Pepa was challenging; she still is, even as an adult. On the worst days, Alma will go as far as to say that raising a child like Pepa was a chore. An obligation.

That doesn’t mean that Alma didn’t love her, but Pepa was hard work. Very hard work. Too hard at times, especially as a single parent of three kids the same age. Three magical kids at that.

Of course, there were good days. Days where Pepa was a ray of sunshine, with a loud and infectious giggle that was hard not to smile at. She always said such funny things; she’s always been hilarious, even when it wasn’t her intent.

But when Pepa was upset and difficult to manage, the good days were forgotten and Pepa went back to being a chore.

She was an extra person for Alma to worry about, to feed and clothe and keep alive. She was another source of stress when she had enough of that already. She was always worried of something going wrong and she needed to watch out for her.

Pepa was too much, too demanding. She always wanted more and more. Nothing was enough, even when Alma gave everything she could. It felt like she was doing everything for nothing, like she was invisible and not appreciated as a mother.

Julieta and Bruno at least rewarded her for her efforts. They at least tried to behave. 

With Pepa, there was no gratification. There was hard work, and very little reward.

All Pepa did was whine, cry and get angry. Or she disappeared and wandered off and seemed to not know what she was doing on pure impulse, then anger came again when Alma told her that she was worried sick. Nothing Alma did was right. 

That was all too clear to Alma when she’d witnessed Pepa stomping around the house, mad at the world and airing all every grievance she’d had since the day she was born. 

She’s like me. Too much like me, Alma often thinks to herself. She remembers being just the same at some stages in her life, though there had been less confusion in Alma, and more general anger. Less misbehaving but more fury and stubbornness. She thinks a lot of her behavior comes from being the second oldest of five children, and having to argue and bicker with her siblings constantly as kids, but deep down, the stubbornness and anger and many other things had always already been there. She remembers how often her patience had run thin with Jonatán and Gloria who were five and eight years younger than her, simply because she couldn’t handle them behaving like children at the ages of six and nine when they were. It’s a stubbornness she could see mirrored in Pepa at that age.

Pepa is still too much like her. Pepa won’t admit that, of course, but she is. 

Pepa is definitely the most like her regarding personality, that much has been clear since she was an infant. She’s stubborn, strong willed and has a very short fuse. Her temper can erupt at a moment’s notice with no prior warning. Even when she was a baby, and her needs weren’t met fast enough, she would shriek and cry, truly making one’s ears bleed until the very second she got what she wanted. So much like Alma already.

If she makes up her mind about something, changing it is near impossible. If Pepa says the sky is magenta, then it’s magenta. 

She can also be very neurotic. She’s overly self critical (when Pepa says she doesn’t care what others think, it’s an act. If anything, she cares too much), anxious and it’s no secret that she does not respond well in stressful situations. 

While Alma is better at hiding anxiety and negative feelings, Pepa can’t. And no, it’s not just because of the weather. Even at the tender age of three or four, Pepa was an emotional wreck.

Something as small as her favourite dress being too dirty to wear sent Pepa into a complete meltdown. Her moods impacted the entire household, and it often took her days to recover from minor setbacks. 

Alma had truly never come across a child like Pepa, even in passing. Trying to parent her seemed impossible when she’d never met someone like Pepa before. 

Her mood swings, her worries and her meltdowns were an inconvenience and prevented Alma from doing things that, to her, mattered more. 

She had a community to run and oversee; she didn’t have time for Pepa’s temper tantrums because her favourite socks were in the laundry and the alternatives were too itchy. 

She didn’t want to hear Pepa’s complaints and worries, not when they seemed so superficial in Alma’s eyes.

Her four year old child had no right to cry about anything. She had no idea how bad things could actually get. 

Unintentionally, she started to push Pepa away. It was easier to brand Pepa as a nuisance, overly emotional and sensitive. Doing that was less time consuming and took less brain power than actually trying to understand her. 

Pepa was never allowed to have a voice; if she did, she was a complainer, an aggravation, a problem. Her worries and feelings were insignificant.

Her behaviour, however, wasn’t. 

Alma was forever on her case. 

“Act normal.”

“Don’t embarrass me.”

“For God sake, behave yourself for once. We’re in public. Don’t act like an idiot in public.” 

“If I see you suck your thumb one more time, I’m cutting it off. You’re not five.”

Alma wishes that she could look back and say that Pepa had happy memories of childhood. 

She did have them, of course, but that’s largely because of Agustín. And Angelica and Marco. Those two were a godsend. 

They often had Pepa overnight, and as horrible as it sounds, it was nice for Alma to have a break from the whining and complaining. Having Pepa in the house sometimes felt like having a stranger who just showed up one day and never left. 

Although, Alma found herself becoming jealous. 

Pepa would often tell her: “I like tía Angelica and tío Marco better than you.”

It hurt. It hurt to know that Pepa would rather be with someone else’s parents than with her. 

That didn’t stop her from sending Pepa over there at least once a week, with her toothbrush and nightgown. She could be someone else’s problem for the night. 

Even while still having Julieta and Bruno, it was way easier than having Pepa as well. It was much easier to understand them too. But with Pepa, no matter how hard she tried, it was as if she fully couldn’t. She had felt the disconnect.

Had Pepa been a single baby, and born first, Alma would absolutely never have had another one. 

Feeling this way about Pepa and treating her the way she did became normal to her. Comfortable.

Comfortable but also something she despised. Like a big, itchy blanket; even though she hated it, it kept her warm. She had an excuse for her emotions she couldn’t control, it made it easier to ignore, easier to make everything feel normal as she could ignore the issues.

Until Agustín put her in her place, and she had to leave the safety of her blanket and actually take responsibility for everything she’d done and the damage she’d caused. 

She’ll never get Pepa’s childhood back again, but she can enjoy the fruits of her labour and the much improved relationship with her daughter. 

But right now, things are tense. Really tense. 

Something else that is common with Pepa, is that she stresses about things before they even happen. If she believes that something will go wrong, it often does.

It’s a self fulfilling prophecy. 

It’s still like that over forty years later. 

Fear is one of her biggest motivators, and even if she’s wrong, her fear will convince her that she’s right.

That’s why they’re in this mess. 

And oh, what a terrible mess it is. It’s only been two days since everything happened, and emotions are raw and painful for all involved. And those who weren’t directly involved can feel the tense and frankly depressing atmosphere in the house. 

And goodness knows how much worse it could have been if Alma hadn’t stepped in. 

She remembers the rain and the thunder, and her own desperate attempt to reach Pepa, thinking that she was hurt or in serious trouble. The weather had been that bad and had deteriorated rapidly. 

That’s never a good thing. 

Alma worries for Pepa, particularly after the incident with the fire that almost claimed Pepa’s life. It happened years ago, but the anxiety and the anguish of it still haunts Alma’s nightmares from time to time. 

Her baby being burned alive is not something she’s likely to forget, and it had been little wonder that Agustín had been such a nervous wreck afterwards. Alma had been too, but she’d also been furious. Furious with the selfish, entitled farmers who were more than happy to let Pepa endanger her life, simply because they’d been coddled for so long and had no idea how to extinguish fires on their own.

Why would they when they had Pepa?

The fury had been a good motivator to make changes to the family workload, although it really shouldn’t have come to that.

Although those days are long gone, Alma experiences the same feelings of dread when Pepa is out of the house and the weather turns all of a sudden.

Pepa may be middle aged and going through the menopause (Pepa being in denial doesn’t make that fact any less true), but she’s still Alma’s little girl. 

The little girl she never got to truly know until Pepa was in her twenties. 

Alma is surprised that she got there as fast as she did (which honestly, isn’t fast enough for her liking. She’s old, and her legs are no longer meant to run), but what she found wasn’t what she expected. 

Although thinking about it now, perhaps she should have. 

Especially when she heard the things that Pepa was saying, to her own daughter, nonetheless.

“Is this what she needs!? All you’re doing is proving that you are the last person she needs!” 

Pepa has a sharp tongue and a short fuse, and honestly, she can be extremely hurtful if she’s angry enough. She’s like Alma in the worst possible way like that. It’s a part of her she didn’t wish that any of her children would inherit, but so far only Bruno seemed to be free from it.

Pepa has spoken to villagers like that, particularly when her children were threatened.

But to hear Pepa say that to Maria left a really uncomfortable taste in Alma’s mouth. Not only her words, but the anger and the disappointment in her voice. 

This went well beyond a mother-daughter argument. Perhaps it made Alma uncomfortable because she remembers talking to Pepa like that on several occasions and she felt shame. Shame because she knows that she never should have hurt Pepa like this, and now because Pepa had experienced it herself, she was talking to Maria the same.

The last thing she ever wanted was for Pepa to be like her, and she knows for a fact that Pepa has spent her entire time as a mother trying to avoid that.

Not that Alma had time to dwell on it at the time. 

She could speculate later. There were more pressing issues.

Pepa wasn’t in danger; Pepa was being a danger.

Not just to herself, but to Maria and Josefa. Definitely to Josefa.

What she’d come across made her blood boil, yet run cold at the same time. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation, and the scene unfolding before her hadn’t been pleasant either.

Agustín used his entire body weight to pin Maria down, while she fought and struggled, clearly in tremendous amounts of distress.

Josefa cried, being held by Pepa, who was so out of touch with her emotions that lightning was imminent. Pepa may not have realised it, but Alma had; and Josefa was soaking wet and at risk of being struck.

Being that young and that drenched, there’s no way she’d have survived being struck by Pepa’s lightning.

In that moment, Alma had seen red, feeling both anger and worry. Worry and fear for Josefa, but also such anger at Pepa and Agustín as she had felt such worry for Maria who was struggling and passing out. Alma had been forced to flee her home mere hours after giving birth. She had cradled her triplets so tightly, afraid of losing them as she had run so fast her legs felt like they were going to give out. She had ignored the pain in her legs, her whole body, and from her labor as she felt like she was cut from the inside. She needed to rest, but she hadn’t as they were chased through the jungle by the men on horses. She had fled the flames of her home, she had fled through the jungle with Pedro, and through the night more and more of her family had been picked off by the men. Her má had died first, trapped inside of the burned family home where Alma had grown up, with the house collapsing over her. Alma never found out if her ma had died from the impact, or from being burned alive. Gloria had died second, being cut with a sword. She was the youngest of her siblings, only sixteen, but the second to die after Gabriel who died as an infant. Then during the night Jonatán had died, then her pa from not being able to run more. Then Simón, her oldest brother, and his wife Joana. They had all been killed with swords as they fell too far behind, not able to keep up since their children got tired. Valentino, Elena and Gabriel had been six, four and two. Pedro’s family had all also died that day.

Alma had held onto her triplets so tightly so deadly afraid of losing any of them. She had seen other mothers lose their newborns that night, and she had spent hours running praying that Pepa, Julieta or Bruno wouldn’t join the list of deaths. Then Pedro had died and she was left alone with her children who she had clung so tightly to that her hands had fused into place, it had taken her ages to let go of her grip on them. Alma knew exactly what it was like to go through such fear, and see her own children in threat of death. No fear she has ever felt could ever compare to it. So seeing Josefa now in direct threat of harm and death, it had changed something inside of her, especially as she could see that Pepa was the danger. She had remembered the absolute terror of that night, and knew exactly what Maria was feeling when she had fought her parents. Pure terror, pure fear. It’s a sensation Alma wouldn’t even wish on her worst enemies. She had understood exactly why Maria had lost it, and just how much danger Josefa was in, and at that moment she hadn’t been able to take it. Not when it could have ended in Maria having to bury her daughter.

Alma keeps seeing the image of Josefa dead in Pepa's arm, her small body limp and unmoving. Charred and burned from the lightning strike which would have killed her if Alma hadn't gotten there in time. She imagined her put into a tiny casket not much bigger than Cristóbal's had been, her body buried next to his, while her death could have easily been preventable if she had just been a little quicker.

When she saw Maria, all she could see was herself, terrified, cradling three infants, running for her life as more and more of her family died around her.

She had to get Josefa away from Pepa and to safety, Pepa was too stubborn and delusional to let go. Alma knows that she thought she was protecting Josefa, but intentions and being right aren’t relevant when it comes to things like this. Good intentions weren’t going to stop Pepa’s lightning, and Pepa obviously thought she was right. When she thinks she’s right about something, it takes something extreme or unfortunate to happen to change her mind. 

And then of course, Pepa feels bad afterwards when the damage is done. 

Alma should know; as she said, Pepa is too much like her. Alma has spent nearly two decades trying to break that habit. 

In those terrifying moments, with Josefa seconds away from death if Alma didn’t do something, she did something she’s never done before, and hoped that she’d never have to do. 

She slapped Pepa across the face. 

No matter how difficult the challenges her triplets presented her with, particularly in their younger years, the most she’s done is slap Bruno’s hand from her hot cup of tea (he’d been going through a phase of wanting to put his hand in things) when he was little and slapping his hand away from the stove. That had come from a moment of panic, and an instinct to protect her child. 

She’d rather have caused her son a few seconds of pain with the slap, than permanent injury and excruciating pain from scolding hot tea or from an open flame. And with the triplets being little, before Julieta got her gift, the damage wouldn’t have been so easily fixed.

That’s where the slap to Pepa’s face came from; a last resort to get her to listen, and to protect Josefa from harm. Again, she would rather have Pepa feel discomfort and pain on a temporary basis, than have Josefa be fatally injured. She didn’t want to live with the guilt and regret of standing by and doing nothing, and she did not want Pepa to live with the guilt of killing her own granddaughter, or Maria to live with the guilt of losing her child. They were supposed to be safe here. The next generation should be spared from these feelings of loss from danger and other people. They shouldn’t have to panic and worry about their loved ones being injured and hurt like this.

Which was almost guaranteed to happen if Alma hadn’t stepped in. That’s why she doesn’t regret her actions. Not at all. Not when she knows first hand what guilt and anguish they would have for the rest of their lives. This is a burden of understanding she does not want anyone else to have.

Pepa was being completely erratic, not thinking clearly and was in no state to think about the consequences of her outright dangerous behaviour. 

Slapping Pepa got Alma the result she wanted; Josefa in the arms of someone safe.

However, that doesn’t mean that Alma feels good about hitting her daughter. She doesn’t feel good about it at all. For the first few hours after it all happened, Alma was too angry about the whole thing to really feel anything else. Her fury with Pepa and Agustín had been so strong at the time that it masked any feelings of remorse. 

It was only after she had a night to sleep on it (not that she slept very much. The events of the evening had not only unsettled her, but they also unsettled Josefa. Maria reluctantly allowed Alma to care for her, but Josefa hadn’t liked the unfamiliar environment, nor did she like being away from Maria. Despite what others may think, Josefa is very loved by Maria and has a close attachment to her. It’s one of the reasons that Alma had been so furious with Pepa; she seemed to forget how much Maria cares for Josefa when she thought that she’d been drinking. It’s like Maria’s good work meant nothing all of a sudden) that the strange sense of guilt crept in.

It’s a strange kind of guilt, because she doesn’t feel guilty for the action itself, not when it was necessary, but she is sorry that her daughter got hurt. Pepa was probably more affected by the shock of it all, rather than the pain. She’s never been hit by her mother before. 

Alma had wanted to speak to Pepa about things in the morning, but Pepa didn’t seem ready (or able) to talk. She can lose the ability to speak for a while when things are too much for her, so there was no point in forcing it. 

Some space and time apart isn’t always bad.

So a second night passed. Alma had Josefa in her room with her again, simply to make sure that Maria got some proper rest.

Judging by the thunder that Alma hears on and off throughout the night, Pepa isn’t sleeping well, if at all. She really hopes that an insomnia bout isn’t imminent; it wasn’t long ago that she had one. It was bad enough to trigger hallucinations, and no one in the house likes those. Even those who are used to them find it unsettling to see Pepa in that state. 

She remembers the first time Pepa had one; she’d still been a child then. At first, Alma thought she was attention seeking (another thing for her to feel guilty about), but it soon became apparent that she wasn’t. The terror in Pepa’s eyes said it all. She was genuinely seeing and hearing terrifying things that weren’t there.

Agustín knows how to calm her when she’s hallucinating; better than Alma ever had (Agustín is kind of an expert), but it’s still a lot to deal with. Being in the same house when Pepa is hallucinating isn’t pleasant, especially when Agustín is the only person who can get her to settle. 

And honestly, Alma has enough on her mind at the moment. 

It’s hard to tell exactly what Pepa is feeling right now. She hasn’t seen Pepa much for the last day or so, but the skies have been dark and it’s been raining on and off. That’s enough to know that Pepa feels shame, at least; at the moment, it appears that she’s withdrawing and taking some time to reflect. That’s a good thing in a way; Pepa is the absolute last person that Maria wants to see right now, and Alma can’t blame her at all. 

And Pepa also needs time to herself to process her own feelings and figure out what she’s going to do moving forward to improve things. She has to do something, because the way she behaved was unacceptable and can’t happen again.

Even Pepa herself must know that. 

Maria is still very shaken by what happened, and she’s going to need time to recover from it. Right now, she just wants Josefa with her. She seems ready to have Josefa back in her room tonight, at least, and Alma of course agreed. Keeping Josefa with her for the past two nights was never a punishment, but to give Maria a chance to get some sleep so she can function properly. 

Hopefully Josefa will sleep better in her own room and with her mamá near her. 

She’s seen Agustín more. She can tell by the look on his face that he also feels very guilty. He and Alma exchange words here and there, but things are still off between them. They’ll probably stay that way for a while longer.

He told her that Pepa is speaking again, but she’s still keeping her distance. 

There’s only so long that Alma can let Pepa hide away and avoid having the conversation that needs to be had. When Alma says she wants to talk, no one gets away from it.

And now is the time. 

So she heads up to Pepa’s room, knocks and waits a few seconds before opening the door.

Pepa is sitting on her bed; she’s not alone. She has Princess Whiskers for company, at least. The elderly cat is sprawled out on her back as Pepa pets her stomach. God, she looks like she’s lost more weight (the cat, that is, not Pepa) and she looks even more of a wreck than usual. Princess Whiskers’ age has really caught up with her. She’s turning into a bag of bones, despite the fact that she’s constantly hungry and screaming for food. 

It’s a miracle that she’s still alive, honestly. Stubborn, that’s what that cat is. 

She reminds Alma of a certain someone else she knows. 

Pepa simply looks exhausted by everything; Alma was right to assume that she hasn’t slept. The dark circles under her eyes and her paler than usual complexion shows that. Pepa knows that Alma is there, but she hasn’t fully acknowledged her. She’s tense. 

It’s like she’s waiting for her mamá to make the first move.

Or she’s simply waiting to be scolded again. 

A cloud has appeared over her head that wasn’t there before.

Alma rolls her eyes and perches herself at the edge of Pepa’s bed. If she’s going to get anywhere with this, she’s obviously going to have to make the first move. And honestly, it’s a little frustrating when she’s spent all these years working on how to open up and communicate effectively. 

At times, it feels like Pepa is still stuck where she was in her twenties. 

As far as Alma is concerned, Pepa has no reason to look so worried right now. It’s like Alma’s hard work over the past years has been forgotten and now Pepa is back to behaving like a frightened child around her. 

In a way, she does understand. The fact that Alma slapped her probably didn’t help; Pepa had looked so frightened. 

“Look, I am partly here to apologise for hitting you. I didn’t like having to do it, and I certainly don’t enjoy the fact that I hurt and startled you. That much I will apologise for, but I won’t apologise for why I did it. You were out of control and too entrenched in your anxiety to see what was best for anyone, least of all Josefa. It was the quickest way to get you to let go, and doing that saved her life. So for that, I’m not sorry. I’m also here to get your side of the story, and to get an idea of what on earth was going through your head that evening. I want us to talk about this when we’re both calm and rational, because believe it or not, I want to understand you. You are still absolutely in the wrong and I think you know that, I can tell by how guilty you and Agustín are acting. But despite what you think, your feelings do count and you deserve to be heard. I’d like you to stop being so frightened and communicate with me so we can work through this. I am not here to scold you.” 

Pepa looks up at her mother, her cloud growing a little smaller when her gaze meets her mother’s face; she doesn’t make eye contact. She’s always found that exceptionally difficult. 

“I understand why you hit me.” Pepa says after a few more seconds of silence. “I can see now that I was in no fit state to be holding a baby, and talking to me and shouting at me wasn’t going to do any good. It never does when I’m like that, so I know you had to do it. But at the time, I was so frightened and I couldn’t think clearly, and all I could think about was how I thought I was doing the right thing, and how in my mind, you’d slapped me for trying to do something good. It frightened me so much and I felt so hurt because it felt like the world was against me. I couldn’t see how erratic I was and that you were doing it for a reason. And all I could see was how angry you were with me, how angry you always were with me when I was a kid and I couldn’t be the person you wanted me to be. I know what happened that night wasn’t the same thing and that I was wrong. I know that now, but that’s the problem, isn’t it? I always realise these things too late, or I don’t realise them at all until someone else points them out to me. Karina had to do it, for fuck sake. My own child had to tell me where I fucked up with something as simple as Josefa’s nap, when it’s not even her responsibility. She shouldn’t have to parent me and explain to me that I’ve done something wrong. And then you had to tell me where I went wrong with Maria and I finally got it, but it’s always when it’s too late and I’ve caused the damage. It shouldn’t have to take someone else to tell me and it shouldn’t have to take days of reflection for me to come to the right conclusions. I should be able to do it myself, but it’s like I’m too impulsive to do it and I don’t know how to fix it. And by saying all this, it just looks like I’m making it about myself and feeling sorry for myself when it’s not even me who was wronged. It was Maria. I don’t have a right to feel bad and there’s no excuse for what I did, but I feel like I’m making excuses anyway.”

Alma nods, listening to Pepa’s words carefully. 

“Pepa, you're not wrong for how you feel. You feel remorseful about what happened. I would be more concerned if you didn’t feel anything. And I want you to be honest with me about everything you feel, but it’s the timing. You feel things too deeply and too quickly and you get a distorted view of reality. When Maria was the one being wrongly accused and you were trying to take her baby away from her, you made it about how you felt betrayed, how you felt she was lying to you. You were too scared to see the whole picture or even listen. You couldn’t see what was right in front of you and that’s concerning to me. It’s like you’re so stuck in the past and how Maria used to behave that you can’t believe that she can ever really change. It’s not only you, but Agustín as well. You’ve both had difficulties with her in the past and that is clouding your judgement, but it’s wrong of you to hold it against her forever and it’s not an excuse for how you acted. What happened then is in the past and neither of you seem to be able to let go and you still hold it against her; you’ve seen evidence of how she’s changed since having Josefa. Why isn’t that enough for you? You know how much she loves Josefa and how frightened she was of being separated from her after she choked, but all of that disappeared when you saw her with that group of people and you assumed the worst again. You were getting a bond with her when she became pregnant and had Josefa, why would her being in the wrong place at the wrong time change that for you now? If anything, I would have thought the improved relationship would make you more likely to listen to her, not less.”

This is exactly what Alma said to them that night; the more that Pepa and Agustín expect the worst of Maria, the more they’re going to push her away. Maria is going to see no point in being good if her own parents don’t believe in her. She’s just going to feel betrayed if she finds out they see her as a lost cause.

They’re still not getting to the bottom of why Pepa acts this way. There’s clearly an underlying reason, just how there was an underlying reason with Julieta when she acted out. 

“I don’t know.” Pepa sniffs. Her eyes are filled with tears and it’s clear that she’s becoming upset. “The time Agustín and I spent with Maria then and forming a bond with her meant something to us. Everything, really. We hadn’t had anything like that with her for years. I’d given up on it at one point; Maria hated me and I had to accept that. But then she got pregnant and she didn’t seem to hate me as much anymore. She needed me, and I liked it. It was like I was getting to know her and understand her in a way I hadn’t before. I was so afraid of losing it and of things going back to the way they were that when I saw her with them and it looked like she was going back to her old ways, something in me snapped. I felt like the entire thing had been a lie and that I couldn’t trust her and that she never actually cared at all.”

“But don’t you see? You’re projecting your own trust issues to such a degree that you’re making up your own conclusions and making problems that don’t exist. That was you being delusional and letting your fear take over all of your rational thoughts. There was no solid evidence that she was lying about anything and you still let your emotions take over. You go from zero to a hundred in less than a second and this level of fear is not healthy. It’s damaging and not only to you. If you’d remained calm and listened to Maria, the whole thing would have been resolved and you and Maria wouldn’t be in this mess right now. We’ve been over this and there’s only so many times I can repeat myself. Your anxiety makes you cause everything you’re trying to avoid. And what we need to figure out is why and what you’re so scared of, because at the moment, you’re acting how I used to, and that’s very frightening to me. I don’t want you to have to spend twenty years making things up to your children. I want you to sort this out now.”

Her words seem to hit a raw nerve in Pepa, and she visibly tenses.

Alma made so many mistakes with her children, and especially with Pepa. The way she behaved is still something she regrets, even after all the years she’s spent trying to change it. She may have changed, but she will never get those lost years back. She doesn’t want Pepa to suffer in the way that she still suffers, and she doesn’t want her to inflict this suffering on her own children either. 

But there is only so much that Alma can do; Pepa needs to want to accept help and be responsible for her own healing. 

She clearly feels uncomfortable in her own skin, and she’s allowing that to affect other people. 

At the mention of her children, Pepa seems to tense up even more, and she looks even closer to crying. Alma knows that Pepa doesn’t want a bad relationship with any of her children.

Pepa sniffs, before she begins to speak. 

“When I got pregnant with Karina, the last thing I wanted was to be like you. I always felt so out of place, like everyone around me spoke a different language and I was never allowed to learn it. Each time I thought I had it figured out, it turned out I didn’t and I felt like even more of a failure than before. It was even harder when I realised that not even you could understand me. I felt so helpless and alone in my own home sometimes, and it felt like you didn’t even try. I’d get so anxious and insecure and whenever I would express it, it just felt like it was an inconvenience to you. I didn’t know why certain fabrics felt weird, or why I couldn’t eat chickpeas if they hadn’t been cooked long enough, all I knew was that if I got upset about it, it would make you mad. And then I got mad because you didn’t do anything to make things easier for me. You more or less told me to stop whining and to stop being a problem. Now all I can see when I look back on my mistakes is a redheaded version of you, who is perhaps even worse, and I hate it. I hate it and I hate myself.”

Alma listens to her, feeling her stomach knot uncomfortably. She feels attacked, and she isn’t sure whether this feeling is valid or not.

These are all things that she and Pepa had already worked through. At least, that’s what Alma had assumed. It feels like Pepa is saying things out of spite and stubbornness; she isn’t willing to let go of the past, no matter how much Alma has tried to make up for it. It makes her feel like Pepa is blaming Alma for how she lashed out at Maria. As if it’s her fault and that the blame is being shifted.

Twenty years ago, she would have snapped immediately. She would have gotten defensive and ended the conversation; she couldn’t handle criticism and avoided it like the plague. However, that was the old her. She still feels these intense emotions but she’s not acting on it and is not going to act on them and just lash out.

She’s learned how to listen, and to not jump to conclusions, even when it’s hard. That’s what Pepa needs to learn, and learn desperately if recent events are anything to go by. 

Alma wants to understand, and she wants Pepa to have a voice. 

“I understand, but I’ve spent many years trying to make it up to you.” Alma says.

Pepa nods. 

“You have. I’m not trying to blame you. I can’t blame every ugly thing I do on you. You’ve put in so much effort and you’ve changed. I can’t ask more of you when you’re already giving me everything you can. I’m just saying that this is probably where everything came from. I know it takes effort on my part as well, but I’m not making any progress. I just feel like I’m stuck in the same place, making the same mistakes over and over again, but each time it gets worse and worse. The more times I fuck up, the more of a failure I feel, and then the more anxious I feel. It’s a vicious cycle and I don’t know how to get out of it. I never know how the anxiety is going to manifest, either. Sometimes I cry, sometimes I freeze like I did when Josefa choked, and sometimes I get angry. And with Maria, I got really angry. I imagined the worst, and my heart started racing, I was sweaty and the weather was shit in an instant. I always feel horrible when I’m anxious, and the thoughts overlap in my brain and it’s so loud. I can’t think straight. All I know when I feel that way is that I can’t handle the sensations and I want them to go away. I can’t sit comfortably with them. It’s probably what stops me from stepping back and thinking clearly. And when it’s all over, I know that it’s not a case of if it happens again, it’s when. I dread it, and I can never relax. I’m always waiting for the next time. And the way I handle things never does any good, it makes things worse. Yet, I still repeat the same thing over and over.”

Alma looks at her, feeling a sinking sadness in her heart at the thought of Pepa feeling like that for such a large portion of the time. It’s a miserable existence, and it’s one that’s making other people miserable too. It's absolutely affecting Maria, no doubt about it.

Again, this is why they’re in this mess. 

“When I had children, I was determined to understand them and be there for them.” Pepa continues. “I wanted to be the opposite of you. I didn’t realise how hard it would actually be when it came down to it. I was great with them when they were babies. It wasn’t until Maria turned two that I realised just how much I don’t understand as much as I thought I did, and it only got worse as she got older and harder to handle. To be honest, I’ve failed to understand all of my kids at one point or another. Look at how Agustín and I fucked up with Diana and her word blindness. Camila and her fading into the background. Nicolás and his anxiety. And that’s one in a long list of examples.”

“We’re not meant to understand our children all of the time.” Alma says, gently. “No parent does. Any parent who tells me they’ve never made a mistake is a fool or a liar. That’s why we need to talk so that we understand.”

Pepa doesn’t look comforted by these words; if anything, she looks even more uncomfortable. 

And honestly, this is good. Not that Alma wants her daughter to feel discomfort, but in order for things to finally get somewhere, things need to get worse and more uncomfortable first. She’s learned it the hard way herself with the countless hours for years that she spent either talking to Antonia and Carlos, or Marco and Angelica, or Mariana Guzmán, and even the priest for some counseling. She can’t avoid the emotions that make her feel pain, she needs to go through them to move on and figure things out. It just gets worse if she avoids it and buries it.

“But I was never allowed to make mistakes.” Pepa says. “And whenever I did, you’d hold them against me for years afterwards. I was never forgiven, and sometimes it’s still hard to forgive myself for things. It’s like I wasn’t worthy of forgiveness in your eyes.” 

Again, Pepa’s words hit a nerve, but she isn’t wrong. 

Pepa was always scolded and berated for minor mistakes, and it remained that way until Alma realised she had to change her ways. That hadn’t been until Pepa was in her twenties.

And yes, Alma will admit to holding grudges and never really letting things go. Pepa obviously learned it from somewhere. This is absolutely her doing.

And while Alma acknowledges that it’s not that easy to undo years of learned behavior, Pepa is forgetting something very important, and it’s really frustrating. 

Something that Alma has been saying this whole time, but apparently it needs to be repeated in a different way for Pepa to get it. 

Again, Pepa isn’t wrong for how she feels, but her timing is way off. It’s a recurring theme with her. 

“Pepa, you talk about making mistakes and feeling like you were never forgiven. You talk about how I would hold things against you, and I admit to that, but aren’t you doing the same thing to Maria? Think carefully for a moment and listen to what I’m telling you, because I’ve already said this; you came to the conclusion that she’d been drinking and was lying to you because of things she did in the past. Agustín said himself that you both find it hard to trust her because of the harm she’s caused before. And now you’re saying that you were never forgiven when you did something wrong? It just sounds hypocritical to me. What you’re describing is the same thing as what is going on with Maria, but it’s like you’re not seeing it. You don’t hear me when I talk and it’s starting to really irritate me. What’s more, I’ve heard you tell your children countless times growing up that it’s okay to make mistakes and get things wrong, yet Maria is still paying for her past years later? You can’t have different rules for different kids, regardless of what Maria has done before. And then you tell me that you can’t make mistakes because I made you feel bad decades ago? You’re giving all of your children mixed messages. You either forgive Maria or you don’t. You either forgive me, or you don’t. You can’t say that you forgive us and then change your mind whenever it’s convenient. You’re doing what I did, whether you realise it or not.”

Is she being harsh? Yes. Is she frustrated? Absolutely. 

This conversation is going way differently than she’d originally planned. At first, it had been going well and it felt like they were getting somewhere, but with Pepa’s comment (a comment that Alma considers to be passive aggressive, although it’s more likely that Pepa hadn’t intended it that way) about how she was never allowed to make mistakes, Alma feels blamed all over again. It’s truly as if Pepa doesn’t get it, that she’s too hurt and anxious about the past to think clearly and rationally. She’s always on the defense, waiting to be hurt all over again and ready to react whenever the inevitable happens. 

This is something that Pepa has literally just described herself. She knows that she does it, and she doesn’t like doing it.

Yet, she ends up doing it again somehow. It’s really frustrating and hard when all Alma wants is to be trusted and feel like her daughter can communicate with her without falling apart. After all this time, it still feels like Pepa is holding a grudge against her. 

And with her words, Alma sees how Pepa’s expression changes; she has that fear in her eyes. The one that she has when she’s about to start spiraling. This is what Alma had been wanting to avoid; she doesn’t want to be frustrated. She doesn’t enjoy it, especially knowing that she’s just reinforced Pepa’s feelings of failure and rejection. 

Pepa looks like she desperately wants to cry (and the drizzling cloud about her head is a big giveaway), but she’s trying to contain it, like she’s internalising things and pretending to be okay, which never gets her anywhere. 

Trying her best to soften her voice, Alma speaks again. 

“I can see how anxious you’re getting. I need you to not speak for the next five minutes. I am not going anywhere, I am not abandoning you. If you need to cry, then cry. Be upset. But I do not want you to speak until I give you permission.”

Pepa looks confused, but for once in her life, she does as she’s told. It’s as if a secret prayer has been answered, because Alma remembers the first time she was told to do this by the priest during counseling. She hadn’t done as she was told and lashed out at him instead, and she’s happy that Pepa isn’t as foolish as Alma had been.

Alma has her reasons for this, although seeing Pepa going through about ten different negative emotions over the next five minutes isn’t entirely pleasant. 

But it has to be done if they’re ever going to get anywhere.

Anger, sadness, fear, anger again. It’s obvious by the look on Pepa’s face, as well as how much the weather around them is changing from freezing cold wind, to heavy rain, to thunder and back again. 

But Alma does not want Pepa to say a word. Pepa’s emotions are too big and too overwhelming for her right now, and that isn’t good for someone who already isn’t good at controlling her impulses. Not allowing her to speak is forcing her to do something that Alma should have taught her to do years ago; to step back, to assess and realise what she’s feeling, before she reacts and says and does things that she will regret later on. 

And oh, it is hard for Pepa. At least in the beginning. For the first three minutes, it looks like she’s struggling to contain herself. She’s being forced to feel the anxiety and the pain that she dreads so much. She isn’t doing all of the unhealthy things she usually does to release the emotions faster; lashing out and crying. 

However, as the five minutes nears their end, Pepa’s demeanor changes. She appears to be less tense, the tears have slowed and her breathing, once rapid and shallow like she was on the verge of a panic attack, is returning to normal. 

Even the cloud above her head is smaller.

In that time, Alma has also had time to cool off and her frustration has simmered down. This has apparently been effective for them both; Alma was able to stay with Pepa and reassure her with her presence, without feeding into Pepa’s anxiety. On the other hand, Pepa doesn’t feel abandoned, but she’s forced to take responsibility for her own actions and behaviour. 

Pepa can’t help having anxiety, but she needs to handle it better, for her own sake as well as everyone else’s. 

“How are you feeling?” Alma asks, gently. Once more, she offers her hand to Pepa. Before, Pepa would have rejected such a gesture after a perceived “telling off”, but now, she takes it without hesitation. She wants to be comforted. 

“Weird. It’s not really weird in a bad way, but I do feel weird. When you said that to me, I felt so panicked. It felt like you were against me and making me out to be a bad person or something. And had you let me speak, I would have voiced that and escalated the situation even more.”

Alma can’t help but smile a little at this.

She’s getting it. 

It took some tough love, but she’s getting it. 

“You made me stay quiet, so I had no choice but to think about things.” Pepa continues. “To think before I opened my mouth. It was horrible at first, I felt sick to my stomach and I was shaking and my hands and feet were numb because I felt that if I didn’t speak I wouldn’t be allowed to do it at all, but then I started to process and I could see that you were being firm with me because you actually want to help me, not criticise me. And I could also see how fucking hypocritical I was just now. I don’t realise in the moment how self centred I sound, all I care about is voicing my hurt and disappointment. I think the world is against me, when most of the time, it’s not. My anxiety tells me it is, which isn’t the same thing. You’re right, I can’t talk about how I’m not allowed to make mistakes and how they’re always held against me when I literally haven’t moved on from something Maria did years ago. It’s like there’s one rule for me and another for her, and it’s not the best example to be setting when I’m supposed to be the parent. And I literally blamed you again after saying ‘I can’t blame you for every ugly thing I do’ minutes before. These are always things I realise after I’ve already reacted badly.”

Alma nods. Good. This is good. 

Pepa does still look upset. Her nose is running and she’s stroking her braid to try and ground herself, but the difference is that she is talking normally, and not sobbing so hard that she can’t be understood. 

This isn’t a panic attack. She feels bad, but she isn’t out of control. 

“And what is the difference between now and the other times you’ve had these realisations?” Alma asks her.

“I didn’t react immediately and I came to the right conclusions before I did further harm, not after.” Pepa says.

“And that is easier to resolve, yes?”

Pepa nods. 

“Much.” She sniffs, wiping her eyes again. She’s starting to cry again, but this seems to be more from relief than anything else. A little bit of sadness, since of course, the damage with Maria has already been done. 

“Everyone who loves you knows you can’t help having anxiety. Agustín knows that. He got angry with you, but he loves you in spite of your anxiety.”

Alma has heard the couple over the past two days; a lot of raised voices, followed by silence, and then raised voices again as neither of them knew how to handle the emotions and the fallout of everything that happened.

She didn’t really know what exactly was said; she was not going to eavesdrop. It’s their business to sort out, after all. Still, it was quite surprising to her that she heard Agustín sound so frustrated. Out of the two of them, it’s Pepa who has the worst temperament, and Agustín is the one to calm her down and comfort her.

It probably isn’t the healthiest thing for them, now that Alma thinks about it. It’s not an equal balance; Pepa expresses herself too much, and Agustín doesn’t express himself enough. Alma imagines that after a while, it gets tiring for him to have to manage her, while feeling unable to have the luxury of letting off steam. 

The two of them don’t really argue. Well, they do argue quite a bit, but most of the time, it's about silly, petty things. Such as who left their wet towel on the floor, or who ate the last cookie or whose turn it is to do the laundry. In terms of more serious matters, they’ve always appeared to be a good team. They complimented one another. They still do, of course, but everything that happened with Maria has clearly brought some unaddressed issues to the surface.

Again, Alma didn’t hang around to listen to what was said, but it’s a good thing that things are being addressed now.

The two of them love one another. There’s absolutely no doubt about that. She knows her daughter, and she knows that she can be hard work. She’s stubborn, opinionated and she hates being wrong. It’s only natural that Agustín would find that hard sometimes.

Still, listening to them argue like that hadn’t been pleasant. Necessary as it was, Alma knows that Pepa will be affected by it. She’s almost certainly going through feelings of rejection. Agustín has always been one of the most important people in the world to her, even before they married. She’s not going to feel good about herself knowing that she made him angry and frustrated, and she most certainly hasn’t done it for fun. However, that doesn’t mean that Agustín should keep walking on eggshells around her.

Pepa looks at her mother in slight confusion. 

“You heard us, I’m guessing.”

Alma shakes her head. 

“I haven’t been listening as such, but I’ve heard the raised voices and the tone. It’s obvious that you were arguing.”

Pepa sighs; she looks exhausted and sad.

“I don’t blame him for getting angry. He was more or less saying what you said, but I didn’t want to listen and lashed out instead. My guard came down and I went on the defence like I usually do, and my emotions were too much. I said some things that hurt him. I didn’t mean them, but I said them anyway because I couldn’t control myself. There was no excuse for it on my part, and of course he’s going to be hurt and frustrated with me. I’m so ridiculously stubborn, and he shouldn’t have to repeat himself over and over just to feel heard. He’s as important in our relationship as I am, and he has feelings and opinions and he should be allowed to voice them without me exploding and making it about me. And then his emotions boiled over and he’d had enough, and he said some things that triggered feelings of abandonment. It frightened me because I felt like I’d finally pushed him to leave me, and losing him has always been my worst fear.”

Alma nods. Yes, that absolutely sounds like Pepa. But at least she’s admitting it. 

“Why would he do that, though? He loves you. He’s not likely to throw two decades of marriage away. Have you considered that he got frustrated and said things because he wants things to be better for both of you and he desperately wants you to stay together and thrive? All couples go through hardships. Look at Félix and Julieta. They almost got a divorce, but they talked about it and they’re making it work. And you know Julieta’s outburst came from decades of hidden emotions because she didn’t communicate properly to people.”

“You have a point.” Pepa nods. “I guess it scared me because we don’t normally argue about big things. Maybe we haven’t been having enough serious conversations and that’s why it all exploded at once. I love him so much. I love the life we’ve built together and I get anxious about losing it all and being all alone with no one who understands me. He understands me so well that he knows that I’m frightened of that, so he probably doesn’t tell me his frustrations out of fear of my reaction.”

“And he fears your reaction because he loves you and he doesn’t want to lose you either.” Alma says. “But there is only so much a person can take. Having a difficult conversation once in a while isn’t going to doom your marriage. It will strengthen it.”

“Deep down, I think I know that, but I’m scared to test that theory in case it backfires and he stops loving me. And I know that if that was going to happen, it would have been long before now. I don’t even think this thought process is fully because of the past or you, so don’t think I’m blaming you. I think I got this warped idea of how marriages work in my head. I obviously never saw your marriage to papá, but I saw Angelica and Marco as an example and how I hardly saw them argue. But then again, why would I have? I didn’t live with them. They probably disagreed plenty of times. And even though I’m saying that my idea of a good marriage is one where there’s no arguments, I’m still being hypocritical because I lose my temper and argue with him. I even threw a fucking candle at him. It’s like I’m allowed to argue, but if he argues back it’s the end of the world and he doesn’t love me anymore.”

“Which is double standards.” Alma points out. “It really concerns me how you think it would be so easy for him to walk away, though. It’s like even after twenty years of him proving himself, you still don’t trust him when he hasn’t done anything to make you distrust him. That’s bound to frustrate him as well, you know.”

“Yeah, I think it does. And I don’t even know why I feel like that. He gives me more love and makes me feel more secure than I could ever imagine, and yet I still get anxious over it. It’s ridiculous. I doubt people’s love for me when I don’t have any reason to, and the last thing I want to do is sabotage things with my behaviour.”

“Do you think it’s because I pushed you away so much as a child, and you questioned whether or not I love you?” Alma asks her. 

It would make sense if that was the case; Pepa didn’t receive the love she needed from the person who was supposed to give it to her the most. 

“It could be, but as I said, you’ve been trying to fix that and I can’t blame you for everything. It could be because people pretended to like me when I was a kid, and then days later, they tell me it was an act and they never liked me at all. I already have a hard enough time reading people, but that made it impossible to figure out if people were being genuine. But I know that Agustín is. Why would he waste two decades of his life for some big joke? He wouldn’t. Maybe on a deeper level, I don’t like myself very much. I act like I don’t care what other people think of me, but we both know that’s bullshit and I care too much. I joke about how great I am, but inside, I see my every flaw and think that everyone else can see them too and are judging me somehow. With how Maria used to be, I used to think it was because she hated me and nothing else. That she wanted to hurt me and that it was all me, but I was too self absorbed to question whether or not it could be anything else. For example, when she told me how she missed her friends, and the only thing I could do was question why she would, when they weren’t worth missing in my eyes. I could only see my perspective and no one else’s. I just thought of what I thought of her friends and that she would be better off. I didn’t think of what she felt like because I don’t enjoy too many friends because that’s more people to hurt me. I didn’t think that she might feel differently and I didn’t try to understand why something might be important to her. I just felt like she didn’t know how much better she had it now and just thought she’d figure it out eventually and that I knew her better than she did, when I knew I hated it when everyone assumed they knew me. The same with Agustín the past couple of days, I suppose. Him telling me how something I did made him feel and why, but me translating it into him hating everything about me and wanting to leave. It’s a really self centered way of looking at the world. Not everything is about me.”

Although this is obviously extremely difficult for Pepa to admit, Alma can say that this is the most honest she’s been with herself in years. She wishes it hadn’t taken something so drastic, especially since Maria and Josefa had been hurt by it in the process, but at least Pepa is seeing all of this now, and not when she’s on her deathbed with no one holding her hand because she’s driven everyone away. 

“Well, I can assure you that you are loved and you are wanted. Agustín certainly loves you.”

“And I love him. And I love our children, and I don’t want them to doubt my love for them.”

As much as Alma hates it, they’re already way past that with Maria. Recent events have proven to Maria even further that she’s not loved, and she’ll always be the villain no matter what. 

“Maria thinks that you don’t love her, Pepa.” Alma says.

“It should be obvious that we love Maria.” Although Pepa doesn’t look entirely convinced by her own words. Not after everything she’s just said. 

“But it’s not obvious to her. You’ve not made it obvious. Like how I never made it obvious to you.”

Pepa doesn’t get defensive; it’s clear that she’s thinking about this carefully. 

Just because Maria is Pepa and Agustín’s daughter, that doesn’t give her automatic reassurance that she’s loved. 

Alma didn’t learn this for years, but Pepa felt as though Alma didn’t love her for more than twenty years of her life. Why? Because of how Alma treated her. Like Pepa, Alma assumed that a kind word once in a while and a smile was enough. It’s nowhere near enough. Not to a child who is only really noticed when they’re doing something negative. 

After a while, Alma assumed that Pepa didn’t care or want her love. In reality, she’d given up on trying to get it because Alma had rejected her so many times. Seeing this cycle repeat is utterly heartbreaking, and Alma feels strongly. To her, this is personal. 

She still feels pain from this now, and she loves Pepa so much (she always has. She wasn’t always able to show it, but she has) that she doesn’t want her to make the same mistakes and cause irreparable damage. 

“It’s a lot easier to see why Maria thinks we don’t love her now that I’m really thinking about it.” Pepa bites down on her bottom lip, twisting her hands together. “Especially after we started to make a bond with her. It probably hurt her so much more because she thought she could trust us, and we let her down. We didn’t trust her when she’s already done plenty to earn our trust. I felt like she broke our trust from an assumption, but I didn’t think of how we could have been breaking hers. And do you know what else? I can’t actually remember the last time I told Maria that I love her. I feel it. I feel it so strongly. I love her so much, but I thought she hated me so much that she wouldn’t want to hear it, so I never said it. I never showed it either. Subconsciously, I’ve kept her at arm’s length. I say that it should be obvious, but what have we given her to go on? Nothing.”

Alma feels her heart ache at this. Honestly, she can’t remember the last time Pepa said it either. She’s said it plenty of times to her other children, but not to Maria. 

Maria isn’t stupid. There’s no way she wouldn’t have noticed that. 

“Pepa, please don’t make the same mistakes that I did. I love you. I don’t want you to suffer. I don’t want anyone in your family to suffer.”

“I don’t want to be like this.” Pepa says. “I don’t want any of my children to hate me, but I’m so full of fear that I either overcompensate or I push away. I don’t know which is worse but it’s just so extreme. I’ve fucked up so badly with Maria, and I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me for it. I’m not just talking about recently, but this is spanning over years.”

Honestly, Maria’s forgiveness isn’t going to be won easily, if at all. 

Pepa and Agustín have their work cut out for them, that’s for sure. 

“You need to seriously consider what we’ve talked about today.” Alma tells her. She still has a hold of Pepa’s hand, and although she’s being firm, she gives Pepa’s hand a reassuring squeeze all the same. “This is serious. There may not be more chances to put this right. And this is going to be a long process and there are no quick fixes. If you want Maria to trust you and if you want to have a relationship, you need to put the effort in. I will help you, and I will tell you to walk away if you’re feeling anxious again. But you have healing of your own to do, and no one else can do it for you. There cannot be a repeat of what happened the other night. Do you understand?”

Pepa nods. 

“I know, mamá. Thank you. I just know that we owe it to Maria to actually try, and I don’t expect it to be easy after everything we’ve done, but giving up would just do even more damage.”

Despite the difficult conversation they’ve just had, Alma feels genuine pride as she sits and holds Pepa’s hand, and she sincerely hopes that she can continue to be proud moving forward.