The-Spanish-Love-Deception-www.indianpdf

“Lina?”
What are we even talking about? “Yes, Mamá.”
“Well, you’ll have to check the voucher yourself; you know I am not
good with this internet thing.”
“Of course,” I said, still not knowing what I was agreeing to.
“Unless he has a tie already?”
He.
All my attention returned to the conversation.
“Does he?” she insisted when I didn’t answer. “Your new boyfriend.”
Small beads of sweat formed on my forehead at the prospect of
discussing this.
Him.
The boyfriend I didn’t have but my family believed I did.
Because I had told them.
Lied to them.
All of a sudden, my lips were magically sewn together. I waited for my
mother to conveniently change the topic in that chaotic and speedy way she
always did while my mind went on a panicky frenzy.
What am I supposed to say anyway? No, Mamá. He can’t have a tie
because he doesn’t even exist. I made him up, you see. All in an attempt to
look a little less pathetic and lonely.
Perhaps I could hang up. Or pretend to be busy and terminate the call. But
that would fill me with remorse, and frankly, I didn’t think I was able to take
on any more of that. Also, my mother wasn’t stupid.
She’d know something was up.
This was the woman whose womb I had come out of.
More seconds ticked away as nothing came out of my mouth, and I
couldn’t believe that for the first time in probably ever, the Martín matriarch
was waiting for my answer in silence.
Shit.
A few more seconds ticked away.
Shit, shit, shit.
Confess, a little voice in my head said. But I shook my head, focusing on
one of the little droplets of sweat trailing down my clammy back.
“Lina?” she finally said, her voice unsure. Worried. “Did something
happen?”
I was a horrible, lying human being who had unquestionably put that