Angelica’s Daughters

Chapter 2

It was 3 o’clock in the morning when Tess finally heard Tonio’s key turn in the lock. He didn’t try to be quiet because

what was the point? Tess would be up, waiting. Crying.

She had spent the afternoon running errands for Tonio, mindless busywork that had nevertheless made her feel like a good spouse. She had picked up his dry cleaning and then stopped at the store

for his shaving cream, his deodorant, his this and his that. On her way back to the car, she saw Tonio standing with a young woman—almost a girl, really—outside a bakery on the opposite

side of the parking lot. Tess could see, even at a distance, the girl’s resemblance to herself, but her concerns remained vague. The two of them were coworkers, quite obviously on a lunch

break. But then Tonio reached out and stroked the girl’s hair, and the girl smiled bright as sunshine, tilted her head, and kissed him full on the mouth.

Tonio wasn’t the first to see Tess; the girl was. She must have felt the sensation of being stared at because after they kissed, she wouldn’t allow herself to be held. She turned her

head and looked at Tess, who saw her mouth form the words oh my God. And just as Tess was wondering how the girl knew who she was, Tonio turned. He was clearly panicked, but even so his face bore

traces of what he’d been feeling just seconds before: complete happiness.

Tess had run away. As fast as she could, she slid into her car and drove off. Tonio had not attempted to follow or, if he had, she didn’t know it. Tess’ shock registered slowly as

she looped in an endless circle around the city. There were no tears, yet. Only the sobering realization that of course, of course, Tonio had a girlfriend. After two hours of driving, Tess walked

through their front door and knew immediately that he wasn’t there. And that was when the crying began.

For the next several hours, she wandered in circles around the condo, picking up objects and fixing them in time and space. A pair of tea lights on the mantle was the first thing to catch her

attention. She fingered the smooth glass and frowned. From that time they went shopping on Union St. and Tonio’s leather jacket was stolen out of the car. After that, she touched nearly

everything. She ran her palms over the spines of books, one by one. War and Peace? Where had that come from?

In the kitchen she opened every cabinet, taking quiet inventory. Butter dish from co-worker. Breadmaker from unknown wedding guest. Small oval platter from Tonio’s mom. She threw the

platter in the garbage can, but it didn’t break. She pulled it out and threw it harder so that it would.

By the time Tonio came home, she had reacquainted herself with all of their belongings. She was laid out on the sofa, exhausted. When she heard the door shut, she sat up and brushed away her

tears.

Tonio said, “Hi.” He sat down in the chair across from her and settled deep into the cushions as if to signal that he would talk for as long as she needed to talk. Tess stared at him

until he swallowed and looked away.

“You weren’t worried about me? After what I saw?” she asked, her voice flat, devoid of any emotion. Tonio reached across the coffee table and handed her his handkerchief. She

swatted it away, angry that her humiliation was being compounded by a runny nose. Her breathing was shallow, her chest tight as if someone was gripping her violently from behind. She couldn’t

look at him anymore; she stared, instead, at the intricate pattern of the Oriental rug which she had spent time vacuuming that morning.

“To tell you the truth,” said Tonio, “I thought you knew about us. You’ve met her before. At the picnic thing last summer.”

Yes, of course: the girl with the long hair who wore a pair of silver sandals that Tess had admired. “Oh, I love those,” she had said to the girl, joining her at an otherwise empty

table. A few minutes later, another woman introduced herself and then asked—it made Tess nauseous to think of it now—if the girl was Tess’ younger sister. Had she seen Tonio

talking to her that day? She couldn’t remember.

“I didn’t know. I’m the stupid wife who didn’t know. She’s what—twenty-three? How original, Tonio.”

“Don’t be that way. Don’t make it ugly.” He shifted in his chair, a movement that had the effect of catapulting Tess from sadness and bewilderment to an anger so complete

it frightened her.

“Me?” she yelled. “You’re sleeping with someone else, and I’m the one making it ugly? Why don’t we call up your family, Tonio? Why don’t we ask them

who’s making things ugly? Ha?” Again she felt that violent hold across her chest, again it felt like she was gasping for air.

“I’m not going to talk to you if you’re hysterical. We won’t accomplish anything like that.” He stood up then and began to pace the room.

He had always been like this, Tess thought. Calm—almost sedate—under even the most stressful of circumstances. When his father was diagnosed with lung cancer, Tonio simply headed to

the library to research the subject, while Tess could barely speak through her sobs. Maybe that’s why she always believed they were the perfect match: everything about him was unflappable,

and it balanced out Tess’ own surfeit of passion.

“You know what? You don’t get to tell me how to react, Tonio. You don’t get to do anything but sit there and deal with the consequences of all the s**t you’ve

done.”

“What about what you’ve done?” he said. “I’m not the only one to blame here. You’re going to have to face it sooner or later.”

“What?! I haven’t done a thing. Not one god damn thing.”

“Exactly. You depend on me for everything. Everything. Isn’t there anything you wanted for yourself, Tess? Anything you wanted to do on your own? It’s been so much pressure for

me to be . . . I don’t know.”

He was tired. Tess could see it, and it softened her. “I thought that was what marriage was all about, Tonio.”

“It’s like you were so focused on being a couple that there wasn’t a ‘you’ anymore. There wasn’t anybody left to love.”

And just like that, her anger was back. “Get out,” she said. “Just get out.” She stood and went to the bedroom, shutting the door behind her. She crawled into the bed and

pulled the blanket up over her head. She stayed like this for a long time, safe in the heat and the darkness. After awhile, there was a tap on the door.

“Tess, it’ll be a clean break, at least,” said Tonio, his voice muffled and strange. “It’s not as if we have children.”

In the morning, he was gone.

Later that afternoon, Tess’ mother and sister, Luz, arrived bearing tea and a package of Stella Dora cookies. There was only one way they could have known what had happened. Tess greeted

them by saying, “I can’t believe he called you.”

“Of course he called us,” said Luz. She kissed her big sister on the forehead. “He’s worried about you. So’s Dad. But you know him; he can’t deal. He’s

at home reading the paper.”

Tonio and Luz were close. They always had been. It was Tonio who helped Luz through her statistics courses at college, Tonio she called for career or romance advice. Tess knew her sister would

know. “Luz?” she whispered. “Is he coming back?”

Luz’s eyes filled with tears. “No, Ate. I’m sorry.”

Tess shrugged, feigning indifference. She gathered her hair in a ponytail, suddenly conscious of how shabby and careworn she must look.

Their mother brushed by them both, waving the box of fancy French tea over her head. “Look!” she said cheerfully, “It’s Mariage Frères!” She immediately

busied herself boiling water and rinsing out cups and opening cupboards in search of the teapot. When the tea was steeping, the kitchen filled with the smell of almonds. Tess began to cry.

“Hush, hija, it’s not the end of the world.” Her mother put a hand to her hair. It was still thick and dark, the source of great personal pride. This, combined with obsessively

manicured hands and perfectly groomed eyebrows, lent Tess’ mother an air of regality that was not easily perturbed. She had remained oddly unmoved during Terms of Endearment; did not

care for the company of babies; and eschewed floral prints, pleas for help from food banks, and the plight of endangered species. There were moments when Tess believed her mother’s heart was

as shriveled as the lemon drops the woman sucked when she thought no one was watching.

“It is the end of the world. It’s the end of my world. I’ll cry all I want. My God, Ma.”

“Hay naku, Tess! Here,” she said. Though Tess knew that her mother had no patience for drama or self-indulgence, she thought for a moment that she might be the recipient of a

sympathetic hug. But instead, her mother reached into her purse, retrieved an envelope, and slid it across the table with the tips of her fingers.

“What’s this?”

“A ticket to Manila. Go see your Lola. Stay until the fiesta in Tayabas—Luz and I will go, too. You haven’t experienced the fiesta firsthand.”