Chapter 152 - The Matriarch (1/2)
”Mom, what are you doing here?” Gabriel stammers.
”I should be asking you boys that same question,” Matilde says. ”What are YOU doing here? And why is Miguel in this hospital room? Oh, wait, I know, because I watched your tearjerker of a confession on the TV.”
”Then why are you still asking those questions? It's not like my own love life is your business.”
Matilde scoffs; she glances at Claire, who looks like some deer in headlights. ”It becomes my business when I see you have chosen poorly. What happened with Michelle? Why did you leave that poor girl?”
”Didn't you get the memo, Mom?” Miguel buŧŧs in, sitting up on the bed. ”It was Michelle who left him. She cheated on him.”
Matilde rolls her eyes. ”That's rich coming from the boy who left Michelle ten years ago.”
”That's not the whole story,” Miguel says, his voice quaking. ”You should get your facts straight.”
”In any case,” Matilde says, as she begins walking around the room, looking around, throwing dagger looks at Claire. ”You should get back with Michelle. She's the only one I like for you. She will be a good match.”
Gabriel laughs derisively. ”Oh, no. Not in my life. I'm done with her.”
”What are you talking about?” Matilde points a finger at Claire. ”Is this woman so much better than Michelle? How can that be? You only hired her!”
”That 'woman' has a name. She's Claire. And I don't approve of you disrespecting my fiancée like that, right in front of me.”
It's Matilde's turn to laugh this time. ”Oh, my son. My son. Why have you forsaken reason? Are you really that naïve? What fiancée? What true love? Have you forgotten that we've thrived, succeeded even, because every single thing in the big world out there is for sale? All of it. You've only bought her so-called 'love.' I wasn't born yesterday. Don't you dare try to convince me this union is innocent.”
Gabriel says nothing, but it's obvious he's gritting his teeth by the way his lips are clenched tightly.
”Excuse me,” Miguel sheepishly says. ”But Mom, but really, what are you doing here?”
Matilde glares at her younger son as though a ċȯċkroach had crawled out of his lips. ”Do I need to spell it out for you, Miguel? I'm here because I think both of you have gone nuts. I don't see the point. I don't get what you're seeing in this woman—”
”Jesus, Mom!” Gabriel says, exasperated. ”You talk as if Claire isn't here. She's here. She hears you. Will you stop this right now?”
”No,” Matilde says. ”I'm here to put an end to all your drama. Since when did you start doing press conferences about your personal life, Gabriel? What's your precedent for that? Did you ever see me go all emotionally nȧkėd in front of the entire world? We never do that. Never. We keep our cards close to our ċhėsts. We keep our enemies guessing. And the fact that you actually did that most execrable thing—that confession on national TV—it means you two boys have lost your minds. It also proves I can't really leave you two completely to your own devices.”
Gabriel looks at Claire with that pained face, as though wordlessly trying to apologize for his mother's behavior.
Claire gets it. This is the most that Gabriel could do, unless he risks getting the full wrath of his mom, who seems hell-bent on putting Claire what Matilde thinks is Claire's rightful place: in the dumpster.