We wait until we hear the door closing behind him before we continue our conversation. Pilar shakes her head at me but smiles.
“You could stand to be nicer to him,” she says.
“He could stand to be nicer to me,” I counter.
“I just wish you could get along better.”
“I don’t.”
“Valentina!”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Let me just say this one last time. I know you don’t believe it, but just because he doesn’t physically abuse you doesn’t mean he doesn’t abuse you—”
“Not this again—”
“Please hear me out. Pilar, I love you, and if cancer has taught me anything, it’s that you shouldn’t waste your time on things and people you don’t love.”
“What makes you think I don’t love him?”
“Please,” I scoff. “I know you don’t. Heisabusive, Pilar. He has isolated you, made you lose all your friends, and even limits how much your own family can see you. He belittles you. It’s subtle, but it’s there. This is psychological warfare, and you need to start fighting back.”
“Did you start watching telenovelas with Chema? Is that where this hysteria is coming from?”
Pilar knows all about Chema and Nicolas and the gym. Not because she is friends with them or interacts with them, or because she’s ever come to the gym. She knows about them because her only connection to the outside world is me, and she doesn’t realize she lives vicariously through me, but she does.
“Pilar—”
“I heard you. Okay? Thank you for your concern, but I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself. Okay?”
I nod. “Okay.”
This is a discussion we’ve had many times before. We fought the first time. Then I kept bringing it up, hoping slowly I could open her eyes. For now, I decide to change the subject.
“Where are you going to hang the painting?”
We both look around the walls of the grand room. For a cage, this mansion is rather lovely.
“I don’t know,” Pilar says and stands while holding the painting and admiring it. “Who did you say the artist is?”
“I didn’t say. It’s Mandy. You know, my friend I told you about. She helped me quite a bit when I was in Kansas City.”
Pilar’s gaze snaps from the painting to me. “Oh,” she says thoughtfully.
“Is that a problem?” I ask.
“No. It’s great. I like landscapes. You know that.”
“Pilar, come on.”
“What?”
“Wait, are you jealous of Mandy?”
“What? No!” Pilar scoffs and sets the painting down again. “Why would I be jealous?”
“Gee, I don’t know. She was there when you couldn’t be. I confided in her instead of you. She visited when I was in the hospital—”
“Okay, okay. Maybe a little. I do wish I had been there, Tini. I swear.”