Chapter Text
One more book should be fine, you think. As your feet lead you to your school library, safe within the confines of your imagination, you hope that the librarian is in a good mood.
Usually prickly, she lifts an eyebrow before allowing you to take an extra book exceeding the borrowing limit. You've already checked out three, but you're afraid you'll speed through the two Hardy Boys books before the weekend is over.
The harsh, ocean breeze slaps across your cheeks, but you're immune to its brutality growing up on the peninsula. Besides, the freezing San Francisco winds are no match to your icy exterior.
Excelling in your studies is never an issue. Your teachers rave about your brightness as a student and how you surpass your peers in nearly every area.
All except for one. Each year, at every parent-teacher conference, you could count on your mom's knowing gaze whenever the subject of socializing makes its inevitable appearance.
It’s never for a lack of trying. Maybe you even try a little too much. And that's why eventually, you stop. The comfort of loneliness slowly outweighs the lasting sting of rejection and abandonment. By the time you’re seven years old, you put the pieces together that you aren’t like many of your peers who enjoy playing house or dress up. Who are loud and understand each other’s jokes and aren't afraid to get their hands dirty.
You aren’t completely helpless. Many times you try assimilating, compromising, or even pretending to be enthusiastic about your friends’ interests. It only lasts so long until they catch on that you aren’t having fun.
Your personality and demeanor aren’t the only things that separate you from most kids, your family is different too. In your younger years, you matter-of-factly share with the few friends you have that your dad isn’t around. You pick up on the sympathetic looks from adults and your peers, but it never phases you. Because having your mom and your older sister are enough. They’re all you have, and all you know.
Growing up, you're not only told, but you accept that you and your sister, Carla, are complete opposites. Where you excel in school, she struggles. While she has a flourishing social life, you prefer the company and solace within the pages of your mystery books and shows like Carmen San Diego.
But your favorite shows are the ones you watch with your mom and sister on Friday nights over popcorn and pizza.
Even though you know you may be a little different, you’re accepted and loved by your family. As much as they encourage you to make friends or to get out of your shell, they will always respect your limits.
Maybe it's because she’s six years older than you and has a head start developmentally, but your sister is always protective and patient with you. Your age gap and difference in interests means that you seldom clash when it comes to sharing toys or fighting over your mom’s attention.
No, your conflict and differences as siblings will come later in life.
When you’re eight years old, Carla is in middle school and somehow manages to make even more friends. Wanting to spend more time with kids her age, you see less of your sister at home. Except when she brings her friends over. None of them want to play with an eight-year-old girl, especially the ones that already have younger siblings.
One day, your sister brings home a friend a year younger than her, Deborah. You remember the first time you meet her. It’s a moment that’s seared into your memory. Like your first time watching a movie in the theater. Or the time your sister holds your small, trembling hand as you walk as a family across the Golden Gate bridge. Or the last time you see your dad.
Your brain has a way of storing away pieces of information, making it almost effortless and all the more satisfying when solving puzzles. So you don’t find it questionable when you memorize what your sister’s friend is wearing the day she comes over and introduces herself to you and your mom.
You tell yourself that the reason she stands out from the rest of Carla’s friends is because she’s kind and personable for someone her age.
Unlike the other friends your sister brings around, Deborah or “Didi” as she prefers to be called, actually acknowledges your existence. When she sits down on the empty couch space next to you, you almost redirect her, assuming she's lost. But she strikes conversation about the book your face is buried in.
Is it a good one? Are Nancy Drew books your favorite? Do you prefer them to the Hardy Books?
You don’t answer her right away, shocked and confused that she’s even talking to you. Instead, you take in the stranger who’s invaded your space in her black Nirvana t-shirt and ripped jeans. You notice the bounce of her curls that look incredibly soft. There’s a moment where you feel intimidated by her heavy eyeliner and mascara, but her tone is as gentle as her eyes as she waits for you to respond.
When you finally tell her that you do prefer Nancy Drew to the Hardy Boys, she replies that she should start reading books again. Before you can ask why she stopped, Carla interrupts your conversation and hurriedly drags the strange girl away to the television to watch music videos. You give a small wave of your hand when she tells you it was nice to meet you, laughing and excusing herself as she’s pulled away by your sister.
After that encounter, you turn the volume of the radio or television louder each time you hear a Nirvana song.
You’re nine when Carla is in high school. And having a single mom means that your sister has to stay home and take care of you while your mom picks up extra evening shifts.
Because babysitting is the last thing a teenager wants to do, your sister negotiates a deal that allows her to have only one friend over while your mom is at work.
And because your mom is unsurprisingly charmed by Didi, she's approved to be your sister’s regular guest.
By the time you’re ten years old, Carla and Didi are juniors in high school. You learn that drama is inescapable for teenagers. While you’re relieved you aren’t involved in all the social chaos, a part of you craves for the type of connection that comes naturally to your sister and other girls her age.
The intersections of your identity, personality, and strengths mean that the few friends you’ve got usually have a hard time fitting in too. Often picked on for standing out too much, for their awkwardness, or for being too smart.
Although you have people you can call friends, you notice the deep emotional bonds that girls your age seem to develop so easily with each other. You wonder why it’s so difficult for you to connect with others in that way.
One evening while your mom is away at work, your sister is in a heated conversation with Didi. You learn what the term dyke means. That it’s not a nice word. And even though Didi insists she doesn’t care what other people call her, your sister is more upset for her friend. She tells Didi that she should’ve punched the asshole that talked to her that way. And that if Carla ever hears anyone else calling Didi out of her name, they won’t live to receive their high school diploma.
When Didi goes home later that day, you ask your sister in private why someone would call Didi such a thing. Carla explains to you that Didi had recently come out as a lesbian. That she likes girls, not boys.
You've heard the word lesbian before and you know what it means for someone to be gay. But it’s in that moment when you learn that people could be cruel about it.
Your mom and grandparents teach you and your sister the importance of treating others with kindness and respect - regardless of their race or religion, their identity, or where they come from.
So you don’t question your sister for reacting the way that she did.
You file this piece of information away about your sister’s friend in the back of your mind. Her nonchalance doesn’t surprise you at all.
Because noticing patterns comes naturally, you pick up on details about their friend group. About Didi.
You notice that she’s a leader. Not the bossy, demanding kind. A quiet leader. It’s in the subtle ways that she influences their group. Like when one of their friends comes over to your house for the first time. And your sister rushes her friend to hang out in her room while Didi stays behind to say hi to you and your mom - enthusiastically taking a bowl of your mom’s pozole. You notice the next time that friend comes over, she properly introduces herself to your mom.
Or the time their group is planning for their homecoming school dance. And one friend is sad that she doesn’t have a date. You observe that Didi unabashedly embraces going stag herself. And makes it a point to take her school dance photos alone.
Weeks after their dance, you see the studio pictures on your sister’s wall: one of Didi solo and looking smug in a silk button up blouse with dress pants. There’s another photo of their friend, also proudly solo, with the widest smile, like she's caught mid-laugh.
Your sister and Didi will always have each other’s backs. Even when the rumors start to spread about Didi’s promiscuity with other girls. Carla is always the first to defend her, even when Didi insists she doesn’t need it.
A year later when you’re eleven, your world turns upside down when you open your front door, confused to see policemen asking for your mom. You’re trembling and crying, held by your sister, as you both watch your mom being taken away in handcuffs and escorted in a police car.
Later at the police station, you learn that your mom isn’t working at department stores or restaurants like you thought she was. The cops reveal that she’s been on their radar for years for fraud and theft.
You and your sister have to go live with your grandparents. And even though everyone thinks it’s a good thing your grandparents live close enough for you and Carla to stay in the same schools, you almost wish that you could move somewhere far. Because the looks from your classmates. From your teachers, it’s all unbearable.
The first time you visit your mom in prison, after relentless persuasion from your grandparents, you barely look her in the face.
Seeing her in an orange jumpsuit with handcuffs fills you with an overwhelming amount of shame. And anger. It's all too much.
Your grandparents encourage you to sign up for gymnastics, which you’re less reluctant about. To everyone’s surprise except your own, you’re outstanding at it. There’s something about getting out of your head and harnessing all your focus into your body that carries you through your family tragedy. Through the humiliation.
You thrive in the sport. Because it requires literal balance: in the physical sense, and an individual and team level. You appreciate the isolated practices. The development for your own craft and skills while being around athletes who are just as competitive as you are.
So in addition to the comfort of your mystery books, gymnastics is your safe space.
When you start high school, your sister is commuting to college at San Jose State University. The loneliness persists even though she’s technically living with you and your grandparents.
After your mom’s arrest, Didi continues to show up, providing unconditional support for your sister. She and Didi’s friendship remains steadfast even as they attend different colleges.
One day you’re at home with your grandparents and Didi gives you a high five.
Your sister told me you’re killing it at your sport, she says. Kids in high school can be stupid and mean, but don’t let that shit get to you, she tells you.
You remember her words and they carry you through many difficult social encounters.
Later on, you don’t mean to - but you overhear a conversation between Carla and Didi talking about their dating lives. A sharp pang strikes through your chest and runs down your arms when you hear Didi talking about someone she’s been seeing. The physical sensation feels something like jealousy, although you have no idea why.
You just started high school and she’s in college. Why would she ever pay any attention to you?
By your sophomore year, you notice the butterflies in your stomach when the pretty girl in your English class smiles at you. She’s nice to you and tells you that her older sister is on your gymnastics team. She sees you at the practices and meets. Tells you that you’re really good. You notice the way that the blood rushes to your face at her compliment. The way your hands get all sweaty and your throat dries up.
The opposite effect of when a boy compliments you. How you just scowl and roll your eyes. Unimpressed.
So it’s highly probable that you might be a lesbian. But you keep this to yourself. No one needs to know. Not that you’re ashamed of it. Why would anyone else need to know? It’s not like there are any girls knocking at your door wishing to be your girlfriend. It’s not like there’s anyone you trust anyway. Opening up to anyone is too dangerous.
You can barely open up your mom’s letters from prison.
The first time you and your sister have your biggest fight, it’s because of your mom. You start to stay behind during your family’s visits to see her. You use your studies or exhaustion from gymnastics as an excuse. But your sister sees right through it. She tells you how much your mom misses you. That you could try harder to forgive her. That she’s trying to be a good mom.
How can she be a good mom if she’s a criminal, you ask. How can she be a good mom if all she’s done is lie.
You hardly understand what a credit score is, but you find out yours is already ruined because of her.
To your relief, your sister doesn’t push the topic any further. Neither do your grandparents.
The rest of high school breezes by as you bury yourself in your studies and your sport. Before your eighteenth birthday, an opportunity to be recruited by Cirque de Soleil arises. But your heart is shattered when you’re somehow turned down.
What the hell does being whimsy have to do with anything when you’re nationally ranked in high school?
You pretend the pain of rejection doesn’t sting.
Besides, reality hits your senior year when it’s time to decide what you’re going to do for college.
You’re offered a full ride at Cal State East Bay. And their Criminal Justice program sounds promising. So you go. And even though it’s close enough to commute from your grandparent’s, you want the full college experience. So you stay in the dorms.
You’re granted to be on a work study program and you work part-time as a library assistant. You tuck your paychecks away in a rainy-day fund and help out your grandparents when you can.
College is everything you wish high school would have been. You flourish in hyper-independence and isolation. Group projects are the bane of your existence.
Ironically, it’s also how you meet a friendly blonde girl in your General Psychology course with eyes so blue and a smile so kind it reminds you it’s okay to let your guard down once in a while.
You learn that her name is Emily and her dad is a professor of engineering at your college. She laughs when you ask if she’s also planning to be an engineer, but not in a mocking kind of way. She tells you that she’s studying to be a social worker, a fit that seems to land perfectly in the middle between her very cerebral dad and her much too intuitive and artistic mom.
There’s an ease that comes with being around Emily. You think it’s because she’s something in between intelligent but not snobby. Gets your deadpan, dry humor. Is curious about you but not annoyingly nosy. Or judgmental.
You surprise yourself when you open up to her about your family background. By your first spring semester, she gracefully helps you climb one foot out of your hardened shell.
After much coaxing, she’s driving you to a party. Because it’s a Friday night and college students, apparently, are supposed to have fun every now and then.
You both end up at someone’s house and his name is Joel. And when Emily introduces you to him, you immediately understand why she dragged you out there. You aren’t mad about it because Joel seems like a nice guy and Emily has hearts in her eyes.
One of Joel’s guests is hitting on you. And even after telling him you’re not interested, he’s persistent. Emily notices your discomfort and places herself between you and the intolerable guy, reminding him that “no” is a complete sentence. She turns to you to apologize and promises she’s going to make up for the terrible night to you.
On the drive back to your dorm, there’s a part of you that wants to be honest with Emily. Not just because she stuck up for you. But because a rare feeling of trust is building between you and the aggravatingly kind woman.
You tell her that you appreciate what she did. And that you haven’t told anyone, but you think you might be into women. That maybe you knew from a very young age that you’re a lesbian.
She pulls the car over on the shoulder of the highway and for a moment, you think she’s going to kick you out of her car. But she takes you by complete surprise because she’s unbuckling her seatbelt and leaning over to wrap you in a hug. When she settles back into her seat, she takes your hand and sincerely thanks you for sharing that part about you.
For the first time in your life, you understand what it means to truly have a friend. Someone you can trust.
Unfortunately, after such a pivotal disclosure, Emily is unrelenting. She insists you open up to the possibility of dating. Or even something casual. Because you’re in college after all. And if there’s ever a time in your life that you should have fun and explore what you like (or don’t like), it’s in college.
She has a point, you think.
It’s the middle of your second year when a tall, dark-haired classmate in your Criminal Investigations course brazenly shows interest in you. She takes the empty seat next to yours immediately at the beginning of each class and is almost always wearing either leather pants or a leather jacket. She flirts with you, not just through compliments about your looks. But with consistent praises about your intellect.
She invites you to her apartment to study for your midterms together. You say yes, even though you know you don't need a study buddy. You know what you’re really saying yes to.
When you tell her you’ve never been with anyone before, she’s surprised. But understanding and patient. You’ll remember her forever as the woman who gave you your first non-self-induced orgasm.
She patiently guides you through your first time touching her. Your first time touching another woman. She directs you every step of the way to her own orgasm. And that’s when you learn something about yourself. You like being inside another woman. Of hearing and feeling a woman’s pleasure imposed by your touch.
The first time your tongue presses against her wet center, the moment she comes in your mouth, confirms every clue you ever had about your sexuality and identity. You enjoy having sex. With women.
You both agree to a no-strings-attached situation because neither of you are willing to commit to anything emotionally. In a weird but satisfying way, Emily is thrilled for you and insists on celebrating your milestone by going out into the city.
Several months later, Emily invites you to her birthday celebration and that’s how you meet Charles and Victoria. Meeting Emily’s family reminds you about how not-normal your own family is. Not that they ever directly make you feel out of place. But being in a traditional home with a mom and a dad only highlights the gaping absence of your own parents.
Your mom has less than a year left to her sentence. And you still choose not to talk to or visit her. You pretend that the relationship between you and your sister isn't affected by your decision to ice out your mom. But it does.
The obvious reason for you majoring in Criminal Justice is because you love solving puzzles. But there’s a part of you that never admits it to yourself or to anyone else, that studying the behaviors of criminals - helps you understand your mom. In your own weird and distant way.
During your fourth and final winter break of college, you’re twenty-two years old and you have the second-biggest fight with your sister. She tries too much, pushing you to see that your mom is changing and trying her best since she’s been released from prison. But you’re not ready. You don’t know if you ever will be. You and your sister don’t talk for months until she shows up at your graduation ceremony.
Even before completing all your upper-division courses, you decide that you’re definitely not getting into law enforcement. You never worked well with others anyway.
No, you want to go solo. So you develop a plan.
After graduating college, you move back in with your grandparents. You work for several private investigation companies for five years to gain some experience. You save up enough money. And with a little extra help of your grandparents, you fulfill your dream to open up your own firm at twenty-eight years old.
In those five years of working for other PIs, you meet a red-headed receptionist by the name of Megan. You bond over a shared despise for your lazy boss who gives himself all the credit for your hard work. She tells you that you’re too good for him and that you should open up your own firm someday.
So when the position opens up for an assistant with Kovalenko Investigations, you call her. And she quits her job with your former boss the same day.
You invite Emily, your grandparents, and your sister to a small celebration on the opening day of your firm.
You and Carla both come to an unspoken understanding to not broach the subject of your mom. She doesn’t push you to invite your mom to your milestone celebration. And even though it’s been six years since the big fight, there’s a strain in your relationship. And because it’s so easy, you place the blame on your mom.
Two years later, your sister gives birth to your niece. Something inside you crumbles the moment you see your newborn niece in your mom’s arms. And maybe, just maybe. You might be ready.
After another year of vigilantly tracking her movements, you decide to hire your mom as a source for your firm. And that’s exactly what she is. A source. A safe and reasonable place in your adult life.
You notice the gentle gaze from Megan when she learns overtime about the true nature of your relationship to Vanessa. But she never comments on it.
By the fifth-year anniversary of your firm, you’re ready to take on bigger cases. Your love for solving puzzles remains resolute. But there are only so many cases of cheating and tax fraud you can solve before you start to get bored.
Three years later, the universe hears your wishes.
A big, juicy case is presented to you. But before you accept it, you do some research.
Your stomach sinks and your camera nearly drops from your shaking hands as you aim at your subject.
Of all the people in the world, your lens captures Didi Santos Cordero walking down the street into her role as Director of Pacific View retirement homes.
Thinking you must be mistaken - you look through the photos again. But your eyes don’t deceive you.
And you can’t help but think that the universe has the worst sense of humor.