Alleluia never sounded more welcoming, Mora thought as she glanced at the proud faces of parents seated in the auditorium.
It's been seven fucking years...seven fucking years of grief, juggling four jobs to pay off tuition and sleepless nights. A relief it was finally over and it all paid off. She muttered one last curse underneath her breath just as the graduates were asked to toss their mortarboards and tassels high into the air. The hall erupted with cheers.
"Words have failed me Hermosa..." her father's voice cracked as he pulled her into his arms. She hugged him tightly, her chest pressed against the fragile weight of his aged frame. This was a kick start to the realisation of her dreams. She was finally going to help him get rid of the cancer and by all means find a way to help the addicts at the ranch.
"The entire village will be proud. Besides, before I tell you, your sister invited the entire ranch" he muffled under his breath still holding her in his embrace.
Mora pulled back in shock. "You're joking!"
"Unfortunately I'm not"
"Aiyaiyai..." she groaned "I told Lupita—small, private, only family."
"Well," he chuckled, "to be fair, you don't have much family."
"So invite the entire ranch!" Mora exclaimed
"Lupita will always be Lupita gringa"
"Gringa! Papa ...that's not fair"
"You haven't been home in ten years, what do you call that?"
"I call it not dying in a small town," she shot back, "and opening yourself up to the world's opportunities."
"Ohh same old same old...still a Gringa"
Mr López shook his head with a tired smile. "Same old, same old... still a gringa."
Tequila-Mexico
June 2015
_______________________________
Times like these were what gave Mora déjà vu back in London. She smiled faintly at the line of family members and loved ones crammed around the long dining table, their plates full of pescado a la veracruzana—her mother's signature dish.
Her mind drifted to friendly memories of her mum; she sighed within her as she reminisced.
Oh, the life this place had when Mamá was here.
She sighed, blinking away the ache in her chest. Without her mother, the restaurant felt drained of color—no spark, no music, no rhythm. Even Lupita tried keeping up with her recipes but no one cooked Pescado quite like Mrs María José López.
"Love is my secret ingredients Morena" she could still hear her mother's voice; still see her smile as she hummed over the stove.
"In one of your blackouts again?" Lupita nudged her arm, balancing a jug of tequila in her grasp. When the López family meant to feasts, they did it like it was Navidad.
"She's been in a lot of those since she came". One of the cousins; Juan muffled under a huge jug of tequila raised to his lips. Boy did that one know how to drink. Eighty per cent of the time, he was usually drunk; Him andJosé; the rats and cats of the family.
"So what's our Doctor thinking about"? Aunt Lupe's screams was heard from the kitchen as she scooped the last of the Pescado into a serving dish.
"Nothing," Mora replied. "Just remembering how much life this place used to have with Mamá here—the Jarabe Tapatío Uncle Nesto used to play with his band, the decorations... the food—"
"Ahhh....the most important....the food....!" Mr. López cut in, his old, clouded eyes staring at nothing as his mind wandered back to his wife's cooking. . Around the table, everyone fell quiet, slipping into their own memories of María José and who that woman was to each individual there.
"It's more like a shadow of itself now" Mora murmured, her eyes traveling the dim room.
"Well, we've been waiting for your smart doctor ass to come give it the life you think it deserves" The others laughed at the joke Lupita made but Mora knew fully well that that statement wasn't made for humour. She could hear the sting beneath it. She was being a little bratty by saying that. She left that place to her dad and her for almost eight years now. They did what they could to make sure it stayed alive. Part of her tuition came from that struggle. All Mora could do was show a little appreciation. She thought of diverting the topic when Aunt Lupe cut in.
"It's hard to keep up a place like this when we have funny people running the district"
"Funny people?" Mora turned to her father, frowning. This was new. They'd talked about everything on her flight back to Tequila—except this.
"Hahhh..., Hermosa" Mr. López's voice was soft
"It's barely been easy keeping the house....soon we will be fighting for th-" Aunt Lupe cut in.
"Lupe!" he barked suddenly.
"Papa what is she talking about?" Mora pressed.
He glared at Aunt Lupe one more time before answering Mora. Mora noticed the others were tongue-tight too, everyone suddenly busy with plates and cutlery.
"The 'big people' want the land for construction and growing tequila" he finally said.
"Which land?"
"The one on which MariaRosé is on and the house"
"And they have the right to just demand it-I don't get that!"
"They are big people Hermosa, big people don't ask. They take. They already own most of the ranch"
That statement sounded just vile. Mora's educated instincts bristled. No one has the right to just walk up and order someone to take off their property from land on which mortgage and taxes are paid. Except-she turned to Lupita; her face was flushed red from anger. Her earlier statement coupled with her father's lies made her move aimlessly over the table in an attempt to distract herself.
"Lupita"? Mora turned to her direction for answers
"Oh, Papa, just tell her the truth" Lupita snapped.
Mora scanned the now quiet table with a stillness she didn't like. She was very intuitive and her intuition was telling her she didn't like what she was about to hear next.
"We haven't been able to pay the mortgage or taxes for months now" Lupita spat.
"Guadalupe!" Mr. López barked.
"How many?" Mora's voice was tight.
"Six."
"And no one cared to tell me?"
"What were you going to do?" Lupita shot back. "Come home from your precious medical school and work yourself to death trying to pay for it?"
Again with the sarcasm but Mora understood. Lupita is the youngest. She'd been the one staying behind, looking after their father, running the place, giving up her own dreams while Mora chased hers and all she could do was complain about how much of a poor job she did.
While hers was saving lives, Lupita's dream had always been cooking. She was more like their Mama. There's no one in Mexico who could come close to her cooking except Lupita. She always dreamt of polishing those genetic talents in a proper culinary school but being her dad's favourite, Mr López preferred Mora takes the first go at hers, calling it more "lucrative."
To salvage such 'injustice', as Lupita use to call it, he left her with MariaRosé which she happily took hold off, warding off any prospective plans of pursuing that dream again. So hearing Mora be-little everything she met especially when most proceeds they could have used in fixing up the place went to her tuition was annoying.
"Someone should have told me at least" Mora insisted quietly.
"Well, you know now. I hope you do something soon cuz we're about to be homeless. Now that we no longer have a cash-absorber squeezing us dry, maybe we can hold the place off."
There was a chorused Lupita and Guadalupe from the table as she made that statement.
"What?" Lupita muttered, stacking dishes "She asked, we told"
She retreated to the kitchen, grumbling under her breath. Mora watched her go. Guilt rising in her chest. It had been a hurtful thing to say—though true. She would talk with her later and resolve things but first, the real problem: saving the house and MariaRosé. Mora had worked through school, taken freelance consultations, saved enough to cover the taxes and mortgage on the house—but the restaurant? She may need to find something else and find that thing fast. If all the proceeds from this place were invested in making her what she was today, she'd rather die than let anything happen to her mother's legacy or God so help her, her spirit and Lupita's wrath will never forgive her.