The Lesbiana's Guide to Catholic School(21)

I confirm some more jewelry orders before getting back to my homework. We sold two friendship bracelets, a beadwork necklace, and a pair of traditional gold earrings since the last time I checked. Before I get a chance to move on to my homework, someone else sits down next to me.

“Hey, you need a ride?” Bo asks. It’s three thirty, so Cesar should be out any second. I’m surprised Bo’s even still here.

“Trust me, you don’t want to give me a ride. I live far.”

“I don’t mind. I don’t feel like going home yet, anyway.”

“Really, it’s okay. I don’t have any gas money or anything.” I don’t want to take the light rail home, but I really don’t want to make Bo drive forty minutes out of her way and then make the drive back home.

“Don’t worry, my parents pay for my gas, so that’s not an issue.”

Someone squeezes between me and Bo and throws arms around both our shoulders.

“My sister is incapable of accepting acts of kindness. We would love a ride,” Cesar says.

“We’re fine taking the light rail, seriously.” It’s not that I don’t want Bo to know where we live. Or maybe it is.

Cesar glares at me so hard I can almost feel the daggers stabbing me.

“Okay, what if you just drop us off at the light rail?” That’s about all I’m comfortable with.

“Sure!” Bo seems happy for a field trip to the light rail.

“Shottie!” Cesar shouts. Dammit. I don’t usually care about sitting in the front seat, but I kind of wanted to sit next to Bo. I file into the back seat instead.

“Hey, since our mom works late on Wednesdays, you think you can drop us off at the light rail every week?” Cesar asks as soon as the door closes.

“?Sinvergüenza!” I whisper-yell, but I’m laughing. I reach forward to push him. He pushes me back. That boy has absolutely no shame.

“Yeah, of course.” Bo does her cute little eye-smile thing at me through the mirror, and I want to die.

Mom joins me filling jewelry orders in the living room when she gets home. We have a system going. Mom’s much faster, so I make the earrings first while she does the beadwork necklaces. I take my time beading an intricate flower design into a pair of earrings. Even considering how delicate and slow my hands are moving, my fingers are already starting to cramp. I push through the pain, because I’ll never reach my mom’s level if I don’t. By the time I finish beading one tiny set of earrings, she’s finished a whole necklace. We eventually meet in the middle and work on friendship bracelets together.

Her telenovela plays on the TV while we work. Instead of watching, I pay close attention to Mom’s hands. If I wasn’t seeing this in real time, I would think it was sped up. I don’t know how her fingers move so quick. She’s not even looking at what she’s doing. Somehow she’s going this fast without taking her eyes off her telenovela. I take a short video of her quick-working hands and post it to Instagram and TikTok to fish for more orders. Then I try to keep up with her speed making my own, but I keep messing up the patterns when I go too fast. Instead I have to take my time and thread my bracelets with love.

“?Cierra los ojos!” Mom gasps at the TV and throws a hand over my eyes, all dramatic.

“Ay, Mami, stop!” I push her hand away to see two women kissing on the screen. Something swirls in my stomach at the sight. I’d be happy if it wasn’t for the fact that my mom didn’t want me seeing it.

“She just murdered her good twin and this is what you’re shielding me from?” I don’t know why I’m bothering. This isn’t a battle I’ll win.

“I won’t have that ungodly crap in my house.” She clicks off the TV, cementing my refusal to ever tell her about myself. No ungodly lesbians in her house. Maybe she didn’t mean it like that. Or maybe she did. It doesn’t matter, since I’m saving all my extra earnings so I can get by on my own if she finds out about me and kicks me out.

She replaces the telenovela with cumbia music, then dances her way into the kitchen to make dinner.

Woosah.

I shake it off and take a moment to admire the bracelets I’ve made so far. If I stare at them too long, the colors might put me in a trance and make me forget. It’s easy to get lost in the vibrant angular patterns. My bracelets look just as good as Mom’s, even though I took longer and finished fewer. I let myself appreciate my handiwork before I move on to making miscellaneous stuff. But I don’t get much done before the smell of frying tortillas wafts through the room. After an excruciating and barely productive wait, Mom finally comes back in with a plate of chicken flautas and beans for us and kisses my forehead.

“Oh, I love this, mija. Me and you take care of things now, and your brother will take care of me in my old age.” I hate how despite her homophobia, my chest still warms at her attempt to bond with me. Still, I can’t help but read into it.

“I can still take care of you then, Mami.” I prick my finger with the earring wire I’m shaping, and she chuckles.

“Oh, I don’t think you’ll have to. Your brother’s going to be the next Bill Gates. He can take care of us both!”

I start eating so I don’t have to talk. I wish she wouldn’t be so obvious about how much more potential Cesar has than me. Yes, he’s a prodigy and a genius, but I’m the one staying up late doing homework and working, while he stays up talking to girls. I’m the one working 24/7 to pay my own tuition, while Cesar doesn’t even have to try for her approval. She’s right, though. If one of us is going to “make it,” it’s him.