PART 1
“If she was so sorry to show her illness, Mrs. Carmen better hadn’t even come,” Renata released, with the microphone in her hand, while raising her mother-in-law’s wig like a trophy.
The living room was frozen.
It was an elegant wedding in San Pedro Garza García, Thief of those where the flowers seem more expensive than dinner and people smile even though inside they are taking accounts.
There were white arrangements, high candles, soft mariachi music and waiters passing premium tequila as if it were a social magazine.
At the main table was Carmen.
Santiago’s mom.
She wore a light blue dress that she herself had ordered to adjust because she wanted to look pretty at her only son’s wedding. I didn’t want to get attention. I didn’t want to pity. He just wanted to be there, sitting near him, watching him get married and keep that night in his heart in case life didn’t give him many more.
For 8 months I had been fighting cancer.
The chemotherapies had taken away his hair, the strength and eagerness to look in the mirror. But they hadn’t taken away his tenderness. He kept making pot coffee when Santiago came to see her, he kept asking if he had eaten, he kept saying “my boy” even if he was already a 32-year-old man.
Renata knew that.
The whole family knew.
That’s why, when Renata approached Carmen during the toast, many thought he was going to thank her for something.
But her smile was edged.
“Oh, mother-in-law, wait so long,” Renata said, getting too close. It’s just that he brings something half weird here.
Carmen looked up, confused.
Santiago was a few steps away, next to the pie table.
I was perfect to stop her.
He was able to say, “Don’t touch it.”
He was able to protect his mother.
But he stood still.
Renata put her fingers under the brown wig and pulled hard.
The wig came out complete.
Carmen was exposed under the lights, with her head uncovered, her skin sensitive, some weak tufts and eyes full of a shame that did not belong to her.
First there was silence.
Then a nervous laugh.
Then another.
They weren’t all, but they were enough to break something inside.
“Oh, sorry!” Renata said to the microphone, pretending to be surprise. I thought it was real. Neta, what a bear.
Some guests looked down.
Others looked at Santiago.
He didn’t move.
His face was red, but not with courage. It was shame. Shame on your own mother. As if Carmen’s illness had ruined the perfect wedding that Renata wanted to upload to Facebook.
Carmen looked for her son with his eyes.
He didn’t ask for help with words.
It was not necessary.
But Santiago looked at the floor.
That gesture hurt more than the pull.
Then Don Ernesto, Carmen’s husband, got up slowly.
He didn’t scream.
He didn’t throw chairs.
He only walked towards his wife in a calm that silenced the mariachi.
He took off his bag and put it on Carmen’s shoulders. Then he took the wig from Renata’s hand, without abruptness, but with a firmness that made her back.
“Since the bride wanted to turn my wife’s pain into a show,” Ernesto said, taking the microphone, “we’re also going to make my wedding gift public.
Renata let out an uncomfortable chuckle.
“Oh, Don Ernesto, don’t get intense. It was a joke.
He didn’t look at her.
He put his hand in the inner pocket of his bag and pulled out a black envelope, sealed with red tape.
It didn’t look like a card.
It didn’t look like money.
It looked like a sentence.
Santiago raised his head.
His face changed when he saw the stamp of a Monterrey notary.
Ernesto broke the envelope in front of everyone and pulled out several signed documents.
Renata’s mom left her glass on the table.
Renata stopped smiling.
And Santiago understood, too late, that that night it was not a wig.
It was about everything I had allowed.
No one could believe what was about to happen…
PART 2
Ernesto extended the papers to Santiago.
“Read them.
Santiago swallowed saliva.
“Dad, not here…
“Here yes,” Ernesto replied. Here they humiliated your mother. Here you will read what you signed without understanding that dignity also has consequences.
The room was silent.
James took the first blade with trembling hands. He looked at her just a few seconds and the color of her face went.
“Immediate cancellation of property benefits, future participation in family businesses, property transfers and any economic support conditioned on the respect and care of Mrs. Carmen Salvatierra…”” he read.
The murmurs ran between the tables like a dry light.
Renata opened her eyes.
What is this antics?
Ernesto first looked at her.
It’s not a clown, girl. It’s a legal document.
For more than 35 years, Ernesto had built a construction materials company in Apodaca. It started with an old van, reliasing cement in colonies where no one wanted to enter. Then came wineries, land, premises, departments and large contracts.
It wasn’t inherited money.
It was work.
It was back.
It was debt paid on time.
It was Carmen selling tamales in the early morning when the business was about to go bankrupt.
Santiago had grown up believing that all of that would one day be his.
Renata believed it, too.
In fact, he had bragged it halfway around the world.
“Santiago told me that after the wedding they were going to transfer 2 locals and a house in Valle,” said Renata’s mother, trying to sound worthy, but with fear through her voice.
Everyone turned to the groom.
Santiago lowered his eyes.
There it was finished breaking the facade.
Renata hadn’t just humiliated Carmen for cruel.
I had also done it because I thought I was already above her. Because he thought that when he married Santiago he entered a rich family where he could send, mock and accommodate everyone like old furniture.
Ernesto took another leaf.
The important clause is missing.
Renata tried to take it off.
You have no right to ruin my wedding.
“You ruined it when you touched my wife,” Ernesto replied.
Then he read out loud:
“In case of moral aggression, public mockery, abandonment, humiliation, verbal abuse or act of contempt against Carmen Salvatierra during her medical treatment, all the succession benefits foreseen for Santiago Salvatierra Robles and his spouse are revoked, without exception.”
A lady was persigned.
A cousin of Santiago released a very short “non-stain”.
Renata was stiff.
Then he laughed.
But it didn’t sound safe anymore.
All this for a wig? Really? How ridiculous.
The question fell worse than the insult.
Because at that moment, even James seemed to understand who the woman he had just married was.
“It wasn’t about a wig,” Ernesto said. It was because my wife has been fighting for months to live and you decided to exhibit her to feel superior.
Renata clenched her jaw.
