A Rare Night in the Gomez Household
written by Ella Lehane
A short story on how different women from the same family view love
Last Updated
05/31/21
Chapters
3
Reads
464
Other Answers, And the End
Chapter 3
“I disagree,” said Catarina, firmly, but politely. It was her favorite phrase. She said it so often that anyone at the table could hear it perfectly, even without her actually saying it.
“You can’t disagree with science, abuelita. I mean, you can try to disprove it, but-“
“Okay, then I disprove it. I disprove your science.”
“How, abue?”
“Me. My life. I’m 74 years old, even if I don’t look it, and I was married for a good half of those years. And love isn’t chemicals, mija. It’s work.”
She laughed then. “Only you don’t get paid. It’s like that thing you did last summer, Nuria, the… what’s the word?”
“Internship?”
“The internship. You don’t get paid, but you’ve got to keep working anyways, so the company still likes you. It’s hard work, hard, hard work. I got married when I was 18. Just a little girl. Do you think I always felt like I loved your abuelito? Of course not! There were days when I wanted to pack my bags and run away, back to my mom’s house, and hide for months on end. But did I, ever? No! Because I loved your abuelito, really loved him, even if the chemicals you talked about, Nuria, weren’t always swimming around in my head. Sometimes, most times, sometimes years on end, if a doctor had looked inside my head, they wouldn’t have found a drop of them. But I stayed, and I worked hard, and even harder during the worse times, and that, that is what love is. It’s choosing to do hard work because you know that the person you chose, and the life you have together, is worth all of that hard work. That, not serotonin or dopamine or any of those things, is what real love is.”
“Mami?”
All heads turned away from Catarina and to Juanita, who had just wandered into the kitchen, blinking sleepily at them and dressed in footie pajamas.
“Nita!” said her mom, rushing to pick her up. “¿Estás bien? ¿Qué paso?”
She yawned into Irma’s face. “I’m okay, mami, I just heard noises.” Irma smiled at her, reassured. “Let’s get you back to bed, then.”
“Wait!” Everyone turned once again to Catarina. “Before you do, we should ask her too.”
Irma looked at the clock on the stove, but shrugged. A minute more wouldn’t hurt.
“Nita, hermosa, we have a question for you.”
“Mhm?”
“It’s a hard one.”
“That’s okay! Miss Anita says I’m really smart.” Miss Anita was her first grade teacher.
“Nita, what do you think love is?” asked Nuria.
Juanita laughed. “Oh, that question is easy!”
“It is?” asked her aunt, surprised.
“Yeah.” She buried her head in her mom’s shoulder. “It’s knowing that when Mom picks me up, she won’t drop me.”
And with that, everyone went to bed.
“You can’t disagree with science, abuelita. I mean, you can try to disprove it, but-“
“Okay, then I disprove it. I disprove your science.”
“How, abue?”
“Me. My life. I’m 74 years old, even if I don’t look it, and I was married for a good half of those years. And love isn’t chemicals, mija. It’s work.”
She laughed then. “Only you don’t get paid. It’s like that thing you did last summer, Nuria, the… what’s the word?”
“Internship?”
“The internship. You don’t get paid, but you’ve got to keep working anyways, so the company still likes you. It’s hard work, hard, hard work. I got married when I was 18. Just a little girl. Do you think I always felt like I loved your abuelito? Of course not! There were days when I wanted to pack my bags and run away, back to my mom’s house, and hide for months on end. But did I, ever? No! Because I loved your abuelito, really loved him, even if the chemicals you talked about, Nuria, weren’t always swimming around in my head. Sometimes, most times, sometimes years on end, if a doctor had looked inside my head, they wouldn’t have found a drop of them. But I stayed, and I worked hard, and even harder during the worse times, and that, that is what love is. It’s choosing to do hard work because you know that the person you chose, and the life you have together, is worth all of that hard work. That, not serotonin or dopamine or any of those things, is what real love is.”
“Mami?”
All heads turned away from Catarina and to Juanita, who had just wandered into the kitchen, blinking sleepily at them and dressed in footie pajamas.
“Nita!” said her mom, rushing to pick her up. “¿Estás bien? ¿Qué paso?”
She yawned into Irma’s face. “I’m okay, mami, I just heard noises.” Irma smiled at her, reassured. “Let’s get you back to bed, then.”
“Wait!” Everyone turned once again to Catarina. “Before you do, we should ask her too.”
Irma looked at the clock on the stove, but shrugged. A minute more wouldn’t hurt.
“Nita, hermosa, we have a question for you.”
“Mhm?”
“It’s a hard one.”
“That’s okay! Miss Anita says I’m really smart.” Miss Anita was her first grade teacher.
“Nita, what do you think love is?” asked Nuria.
Juanita laughed. “Oh, that question is easy!”
“It is?” asked her aunt, surprised.
“Yeah.” She buried her head in her mom’s shoulder. “It’s knowing that when Mom picks me up, she won’t drop me.”
And with that, everyone went to bed.
