The Way You Make Me Feel(68)

July 24

To: Juliana Choi

From: Adrian Shin

Jules,

Does Clara know this Tulum trip is for work? She seems to think it’s just a vacation for you two. Mind clearing that up so she’s not so pissed about not being able to go?

-Adrian

I frowned. Okay, clearly my dad was waiting for my mom to tell me. Which she never had. I scrolled down and skimmed the e-mail subjects. My dad had been sending them regularly for years, it seemed. I clicked one from six months ago, in February.

February 10

To: Juliana Choi

From: Adrian Shin

Jules,

Clara’s sad about her breakup with that loser whatshisname. Thought she could use some Mom time when Valentine’s Day comes around. Probably less awkward than me talking to her. Give her a call, okay?

-Adrian

Whatshisname. My dad’s least favorite boyfriend of mine, Leo, he of the no teeth-brushing. He always called my dad “bro.” Although he wasn’t the love of my life, I had been pretty bummed when we broke it off. So it was nice when my mom called. We had Skyped while watching the least romantic movie we could think of on Valentine’s Day. (Blackfish—nothing kills romance like a documentary about animal cruelty!) I had chalked up the timing to Mom instincts.

I went even further back, to two years ago.

September 3

To: Juliana Choi

From: Adrian Shin

Jules,

Hey, I didn’t hear back about whether or not you can make it to Clara’s birthday this year. Here’s the wish list I promised of things she wants. She’s going through a spectacular phase in puberty of hating everything, so this was a serious undertaking.

? The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath

? A Venus flytrap

? A neon sign shaped like a cat

? New pair of Vans, high-top black ones

? Colored pencils

? Something called “primer.” I think it’s makeup??

? Pasta maker

True mystery, our daughter.

-Adrian

My breath caught in my throat. I got every single thing on my birthday list that year. From my mom. My dad took me to the beach, and I remember thinking my mom was so much cooler than him. How she was so good at knowing exactly what I liked. He had let her take all the glory for the presents.

Always.

I went as far back as ten years ago in e-mails and found birthday lists then, too. From my dad to my mom, every time. Dozens, hundreds of e-mails. Reminders for my mom about school recitals and upcoming visits. Photos of me on the first day of school in slightly bizarre outfits. Horrible class pictures. Holiday and birthday photos when she couldn’t make it—posing with the gifts she sent. Updates on my health, including medications I was taking when I got sick. Every lost tooth noted. The first day of my period and the sheer panic that came with it. Questions about birth control and makeup and clothes.

This folder was a record of my entire life.

My food arrived: a whole grilled fish with buttery rice, beans, and a fresh salad. I looked up and the same woman from behind the counter looked concerned. “?Estas bien?” she asked.

I touched my face; it was wet with tears. Good God. Crying in public was my new thing now? “Yes, I’m fine! Just allergies.” She gave my shoulder a little pat, and I stared at the screen for a few seconds before shutting it off.

When I took a bite of the food, I immediately thought of how much Pai would like the seasoning. Sitting there eating fish on a white sand beach with a cool breeze drifting over me, more than ever I wished I were on the KoBra—enclosed in an overheated truck with my dad and my best friend.





CHAPTER 32

When I got back to the hotel, my mom was getting her hair and makeup done in her villa.

“Clara! You’re just in time. I’m about to start this interview for Pleat and Gather,” she said as a stylist tugged viciously on her hair with a curling iron.

I plopped onto her bed. “What’s Pleat and Gather?”

“You don’t know PLEAT AND GATHER?” she yelped, whether from incredulity or pain, I couldn’t tell. “It’s only the biggest fashion website, kiddo. Anyway, wanna stick around?”

“I have no life obligations, so sure.” I was a little dazed from my afternoon snooping, and passively watching my mom get interviewed seemed like a great idea at the moment.

The interview took place outside, where my mom lounged on a pale pink sofa, the white sand beach and sparkling blue ocean as her backdrop. Her hair fell in waves over her tanned shoulders, and she wore a long white linen dress with thin spaghetti straps, her legs tucked under her casually. She looked like a fancy mermaid.

With a camerawoman behind her, the interviewer—a young Mexican blogger with a bleached-blond bob named Teresa—started asking M?e questions.

“We’re here with influencer and tastemaker Juliana Choi in gorgeous it destination Lotus Hotel in Tulum.” Gotta get that product placement. “Jules, as her fans like to call her, does it all with her four million followers—travels the world, sits in the front row of every major fashion event, and collaborates with designers to add that extra. She’s also a mom to a very chill teenage daughter who’s here with us. Can you even?”

Luckily, I was sitting in a chair behind the camera woman, so they couldn’t swing the camera over to me or anything. Nonetheless, I still felt uneasy being discussed. My mom winked at me, and I was sure her fans would love that authentic private moment between mother and daughter.