Isabela
**Today**
I stopped by the market to grab some things my grandma likes and take them to her place. I'm all messed up, my head is in a bad space. I spent the night listening to music, trying to clear my mind after kneeing Nate in the groin and running away before he had time to react. I pushed a dresser in front of my door so that idiot couldn’t get in and surprise me. As crazy as I am and don’t back down to anyone, that jerk also doesn’t like to let things slide. I know he’s going to get back at me as soon as he can, and honestly, I’m terrified about it. I have no clue what he’s planning, and it’s been driving me crazy.
I just parked the red Mini Cooper in the spot in front of the high-end building by the beach in Leblon, with the scorching sun beating down on the city, but making the beachgoers happy as they enjoy the sand. I grab the basket from the passenger seat and walk into the six-story building with brown tile facades and large glass balconies.
No need to introduce myself because the doorman, Seu Carlos, unlocks the automatic gate with a big smile on his round, tanned face.
"Hey, Dona Isa, how’s it going?" he greets me with a wide grin.
"Aside from this hellish heat, I’m good. How about you?"
"All peaceful. Your grandma just got back from the beauty salon."
"Oh, great! So I won’t have to wait."
As soon as I step into the elevator, I chuckle, realizing he still keeps tabs on the residents' lives. I bet he knows everyone’s routine by heart. While pressing the button for the penthouse, I adjust the wicker basket on my arm and play the WhatsApp audio Ana sent while I was driving:
"Remember, the first wedding rehearsal is on Friday, okay? No skipping out because I’ve scheduled your doctor’s appointment for a few hours before."
Her voice was upbeat and rushed, making it obvious she was working out while speaking, with the unmistakable hum of a treadmill in the background.
I’m stressed about both things she mentioned, not to mention Nate's potential revenge floating around in my head now and then.
I’ll have to face my first gynecological exam, and there are two possible outcomes. I could confront my trauma and walk out feeling victorious and emotional, or I could freak out, back out, and be reminded of how broken I really am. And the other mess in my head is that Bill is my partner for the wedding. He’s going to be one of Jow and Ana’s groomsmen, so we’ll have to walk down the aisle together. How am I supposed to do that without feeling the urge to tell him off?
Before I know it, the woman with a kind smile and coppery red-dyed hair is beaming at me. Dressed in a black patterned midi dress, she pulls me into a tight hug, her scent of wildflowers bringing me the kind of safety that reassures me she’s my true and only mother.
"Come to see Grandma, Isa?"
Her voice is a bit hoarse from years of smoking. Her lungs are messed up now, so she had to quit. And the idea of Grandma being a smoker is the weirdest thing, considering she’s a renowned cardiologist. Plus, she’s wealthy because she comes from a long line of important doctors. She owns a massive medical solutions company that invests in medication research and vaccine development. I always thought it was ridiculous for her to smoke so much while preaching healthy living to her patients when she used to practice. Thankfully, she quit years ago.
"Hi, Princess!" I smile as I speak, letting her pinch my cheeks, making me feel like a little girl again. She loves the affectionate way I’ve called her this since I was a kid. We loved watching Disney movies together, so I’d call her that because I admired her the same way I did the princesses we watched.
"How’s school going?"
"A total mess!" I admit, handing her the basket.
Her oval face, tight from years of plastic surgery and cosmetic procedures, contorts slightly, but doesn’t wrinkle—thanks to all the Botox. She quickly glances at the basket, then back at my outfit, giving me a little smile.
"What a lovely outfit!"
When I moved out of my mom’s house and into the penthouse in Ipanema she gave me for my eighteenth birthday, Hellen was shocked by the way I started dressing. Sure, I’d been rebellious since I was about fifteen, but I really embraced the alternative style when I moved out. I started wearing the looks I’d seen online and loved, ditching the oversized hoodies that used to hide every inch of skin from my stepfather’s creepy eyes.
Away from him and his disgusting gaze, I could finally dress more boldly. It was liberating. But it also brought a lot of questions from my grandma.
"Your mom didn’t let you wear the clothes you wanted?"
"Why do you call her ‘the wretch’ now?"
"I never understood why she was so against you having the freedom a girl your age should have. Is there something you haven’t told me, sweetheart?"
Grandma seemed to have memorized those phrases. She’d say one of them now and then, switching up the words but always with the same intent.
"There’s apricot jam, your favorite truffles, Brie cheese, and I found those coconut sweets you love, plus some other stuff," I explain while pointing at the basket and following her inside the house, the smell of Palo Santo incense filling the air, ignoring the amount of evil eye charms and amulets she has scattered around. Grandma is superstitious.
I pop a grape-flavored candy in my mouth that I just grabbed from my red crossbody bag. The burst of sugar on my tongue brings a little comfort to the broken thoughts swirling in my mind.
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