Page 52 of Reverence

Amala

After going undercover last night, we now had an inkling of information regarding the Dominion case.

Granted it wasn’t much and it still felt like we were trying to find a needle in a haystack, we at least had some sense of direction.

“Mamá, estoy bien.”

I held the phone against my ear, plopping onto the couch. I held the bowl of strawberries in my left hand and placed it onto my thigh. “I’ve just been extremely busy with work.”

The memories of last night kept replaying in my mind and it irked me. I could still feel him pressed up against me. Talking into my ear.

Touching me so tenderly.

That’s not my buckle.

“Work.” She muttered and it snapped me back to the present, the disapproval evident in her voice. “At least check in with me. Todos los días me preocupo por tu seguridad.”

“Can we please not have this conversation again?”

My mother and I clashed every time I called or saw her. She’d nag about my occupation, reminding me of the dangers that came with the job.

“You’re just like your father. Stubborn and hardheaded. Santa María.”

I bit into the strawberry, the sweetness overridden by the bitter memory of my deadbeat father and Ares because he used those same words to describe my personality.

Fuck them both.

The common denominator of my hatred would always be men.

My mother, Marisol, refused to discuss anything pertaining to her ex-husband, though—except when she’d compare me to the man in these situations.

I didn’t know what his line of work was but apparently it was extremely dangerous and that’s why she left him.

She couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to him and gave him an ultimatum.

Unfortunately, he wanted the best of both worlds but she wasn’t willing to lie awake every night, wondering if the man lived to see another day.

Made me wonder what the fuck he was doing.

“You’re intelligent, Amala. You’d be successful in any career path, why do you have to put yourself in harm’s way?”

She sighed and I shook my head, twirling strands of hair around my index finger.

I needed to keep my free hand moving or I would’ve ripped my hair out of my scalp.

“Mamá, we’ve already talked about this. I enjoy my job and I’m good at it.” I frowned. “Please don’t compare me to your ex-husband.”

“You mean your father?” She asked.

“I don’t know who you’re referring to but that’s no father of mine. All I remember about him is his name but what I do know is that you’ve been divorced for twenty years and in that timeframe I haven’t seen him ever again. Some father he is.”

She knew this subject pissed me off but she kept pushing. “Forgive and forget.”

“Forgive him for what exactly?” I questioned. “I can assure you I’m not spending my days thinking about him but you’re always bringing him up. Why is that?”

“You’re resentful, that’s why. Let it go.” She exhaled softly. “Harboring those feelings won’t change anything. When we were married he was a good man and a great father. Besides, you had me didn’t you?”

I laughed humorlessly. “I’m resentful?”