That distinction mattered to her.
It mattered to Alejandro too.
One evening, when Isabela was six, she found an old photograph.
Lucía in the blue housekeeping uniform.
Pregnant.
Standing beside Gabriel and two other employees.
“Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“You cleaned hotels?”
“I did.”
“Was it hard?”
“Very.”
“Were you poor?”
Lucía smiled.
“I didn’t have much money then.”
Isabela looked at Alejandro.
“Why didn’t Daddy give you money?”
The room went quiet.
Alejandro crouched beside her.
“Because Daddy didn’t know where Mommy was.”
“Why?”
“Because someone lied to us.”
“Why did you believe him?”
Alejandro looked at Lucía.
She did not rescue him from the question.
He answered.
“Because I was angry.”
“And proud.”
“And I didn’t ask enough questions.”
Isabela considered that.
“That’s dumb.”
Lucía laughed.
Alejandro nodded.
“Yes.”
“It was.”
“Did Mommy forgive you?”
Alejandro looked at Lucía.
Lucía answered.
