Lone Star Legend (23 page)

Miss Tctx: I read that horible story online and I just want you to know that I can’t beleive Papi chulo is such a jerk and
also that Heartthrob Geekboy was never good enough for you and I’m sure he deserved what ever you did. They are both obviusly
jelous of you

Comment left by:
Baby gurl!

Well, now we see what you’ve been up to while on break. I had to come see what all the fuss was about and, all I can say is
good riddance!

Comment left by:
Rocko

Sandy: I don’t care what anybody says. You’re the best thing Nacho Papi has going on and George C is so obviously pissed that
he jumped ship right before you guys hit the big time. As for your ex, I have to assume that you exaggerated his good qualities
on this blog, because he sounds like a total douche to me. Gentlemen don’t kiss and tell.

Comment left by:
Parker Peter

What do you expect from a whore. I hope you get sued!

Comment left by:
Anonymous

Wow. I just came here after reading the article about your ex and I have to say that I’m surprised. I thought it was going
to be all about break-up drama, but I see it’s much more than that. Glad I found you.

Comment left by:
Tomasina

Sandy S., oh my gosh, I’ve been reading this site for months now but never knew that you were the same Sandy S. from Nacho
Papi! Now I have to read everything all over again!

Comment left by:
silly putty

S
andy sat in her darkened bedroom reading comment after comment. Hundreds of comments, taking up page after page in her blog.
She read the good, the bad, and the completely ugly. She couldn’t stop herself. It took her more than an hour, and all the
while new comments were being posted.

She’d rushed home in order to delete her blog in its entirety. Or at least to password-protect the stupid thing. All the way
there she’d cursed herself for having been dumb enough to post her personal problems on the Internet in the first place.

But when she got home and started seeing all those words—all those words written by strangers, about
her
—she’d found herself unable to go through with it.

She refreshed the page and found yet another comment. She read it. She hit Refresh again. Over and over.

In another browser window, she read comments on George’s stupid, hateful article. It was the same story there: some readers
bashed her, and some bashed George or Daniel. Some readers hated her, and some readers loved her.

Sandy flicked back and forth between the two pages, obsessively reading every comment that appeared. It was like watching
a building blow up. Like watching a starlet fall down onstage. It was a veritable train wreck. But all about
her
. Sandy was mesmerized. She couldn’t stop reading.

S
HE WOKE UP
at 10:22
A.M.
on Saturday, eyes sticky and hungover from the night spent staring at electronic eight-point font. She felt
vaguely nauseated. Nervous, even. She sat up from where she’d crashed on the couch, not even bothering to turn it into the
bed first, and looked around the room. Something was tickling at the back of her mind. Something to do with something she’d
left in this room.

Her eyes fell on a peach-colored rectangle facedown on the coffee table. The invitation for her father’s wedding, which she’d
completely forgotten.

A
T
11:08
A.M
., she was sitting in her car in the parking lot of a nondescript, nondenominational church, wearing a crumpled skirt and
blouse and too much dry shampoo. Eight minutes late to her own father’s wedding. She wondered if she should even go in.

The parking lot was filled with other cars, none of which she recognized. No, she recognized one. A gold Lincoln Town Car,
its driver sitting at the wheel, staring through sunglasses at nothing. Holding a cigarette, which Sandy could almost smell
from this distance, even though it’d been years and years since she’d smelled that brand burning in her mother’s fingers.

As if by some familial telepathy, Mrs. Saavedra turned and looked right at Sandy. Then, moving mechanically yet quickly, she
unlocked, got out, and locked her car. Click-clicked over to Sandy’s Malibu, which Sandy hurried to unlock so her mother could
slide into the pas-senger seat, silent as if on some assignation. Were they there to spy or to assassinate? Sandy wondered.
Bad joke
.

There was a long, long silence as the two of them sat in the glare, sheltered in their private thoughts. Sandy let her mother
crack the window to smoke, knowing better than to complain about the scent messing up her car. She knew that her mother must
have been very—sad, angry, something—to be smoking again, but especially to be quiet for so long. She felt sympathy, but also
relief. She wasn’t in the mood for conversation.

Then, finally, her mother did speak, and it was with a more sober, serious voice than Sandy had heard from her since the divorce,
three years before.

“He didn’t leave me, you know. He always said he would, but in the end it was me that left him.”

That wasn’t what Sandy had expected her to say. Her mother went on.

“He always thought I was such a dummy. That was his joke—that I was so dumb he didn’t know what he was doing with me. Then
everybody else joked about it too. And I just laughed it off. But then I started to see that it really did bug him, and I
think I started acting dumber, just to bug him some more.” She took a long, remorseful drag, looking like she already regretted
this lapse into weakness. She flicked the ash hard out the window. “I would say, ‘You’re right, you should’ve married a college
girl. Why don’t you go find one?’ But he wouldn’t go. I think he liked telling everybody what a dummy his wife was. That was
his excuse for when his own life went wrong. It was all her fault—his dummy of a wife.”

Sandy couldn’t do anything but listen. Never had her mother spoken about herself like this. Sandy was used to her talking
about others, or spinning long fantasies for her daughter’s future. She never would have imagined her mother observing anything
so keenly, least of all anything that included herself.

“My mom—your grandma Petra—used to say ‘There’s two sides to every story.’ I know my side, and I know his side. But now I
see that there’s more than just that.” She turned to face Sandy. The sun shone through her darkened lenses, revealing puffy
red eyes. “You’ve been seeing your own side of it this whole time. You think I ran your daddy away—forced him to rush out
the door and leave you with your dumb old mama.”

Shock hit Sandy like cold water over the head. It dawned on her then. Her mother wasn’t this upset about the wedding. She
had read Sandy’s blog. Like a bad TV show rewinding too fast, she re-saw all the words she’d written about her parents. “Mom,
I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Mrs. Saavedra chuckled dryly and took another drag. “You were right. Everything you said was right.” She looked
out the window, as if at everything in her past.

“Mom.” Sandy reached for her mother, for the first time in recent memory. “No. I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

Her mother shook her head. “No, you weren’t. I read the whole thing. All of it. You were whiny, and you were spoiled. But
you weren’t wrong.”

Another car pulled into the lot, peeling around the corner way faster than was appropriate for the occasion. A thin, balding
man in a tuxedo practically ran out of its driver door, only to stop short of the church for a panicked search through all
his suit pockets.

“It’s Dad!” Sandy whispered, having recognized him only when he turned almost to face them. As one, she and her mother ducked
down, eye level with the dash. What was he doing? Sandy wondered. Looking for the ring?

He finally found the right pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. After fumbling to light one, he smoked and paced jerkily
back and forth like a video-game character. “What’s wrong with him?” Sandy whispered as if he might hear them.

Her mother chuckled again, this time in what sounded like real amusement. She sounded kind of witchy, Sandy couldn’t help
but think. “He’s nervous. He’s worried he’s making a mistake.”

Sandy frowned, thinking this was a little uncharitable to be listening to on her father’s wedding day. But her mother was
right—he was incredibly nervous. Why?

“She’s a dummy,” her mother said. “She’s a
real
dummy. She went to college, and she has a big-shot job, but she’s dumber than hell. Dumber than
me
.”

Sandy looked at her mother in surprise as the older woman began to shake with giggles. “He finally got what he deserved, and
I think he’s finally realized it.”

Eventually her father went in to his fate.

“You’d better go in, too. You’re going to miss it.” Her mother seemed completely recovered now. “Go in there so you can tell
me later what everybody’s wearing.”

Sandy shook her head. “I don’t feel like it.” She turned to face her mother directly. “You know, all that stuff I said on
my blog, about you running Dad off and keeping him away from me, that was wrong. I know that now. It wasn’t you, it was Dad
himself. He never calls me. He barely even told me he was getting married.” She sighed. “And… it hurt my feelings. And I guess
it was just easier to believe that it was all happening because of you.”

“Well,” said her mother. There was a pause. “I was probably to blame a little, too. You were only telling it like you saw
it.” Sandy didn’t say anything. Her mother changed the subject. “I’m sorry your dad’s being this way, baby. And I’m sorry
I didn’t realize what a jerk that Danny was. I shouldn’t have nagged you so much about him.”

“It’s okay.” Sandy looked at the church one last time, feeling like its doors had closed on a chapter in her life. “Hey, how
about we go get coffee?”

“At your fancy coffee place? Or you want to just go through a drive-through somewhere?”

Sandy thought about it for a moment. She couldn’t go to Calypso. She was afraid she’d be recognized. “We’ll go to a different
fancy coffee place,” she said. “I know lots of them.”

Her mother threw the last of her cigarette out the window and reached for her seat belt. “All right, then. Let’s roll.”

Time: Wednesday, June 7, 12:34 PM

To:
[email protected]

From:
[email protected]

Subject: Don’t forget this Friday!

Hey girl. You’re still coming on Friday, right? I set everything up in case you want to bring a camera crew with you, and
I’m attaching my bio and some other information in case you want to mention it ahead of time, maybe on Nacho Papi.;)

Can’t wait to see you there!

Oh and I saw that mess that happened with Daniel online. Hope you’re not letting that get you down too much.

Veronica

Post on Nacho Papi’s Web Site, Friday, June 9

by Sandy S.

If you’re someone who’s only been talking to me in public lately… who never calls me, personally, to see how I’m doing, but
who always has time to drop a comment letting everyone else on earth know that you’re my very best friend… then I can’t make
it to your event. And I can’t bring a camera crew with me, either. Sorry.

I’m sure you’ll find a way to talk about it where everyone can see. Break a leg.

Whoa. I don’t know who you’re talking about, but it’s cracking me up.

Miss Da Meaner

I think I know. Does her name start with V?:):)

Carless in Detroit

Hello, how is this news? What is this, the Sandy S show now? If the posts have to be about her, can we at least get more details
on what she does in bed?

Born Again Atheist

Who is this so called attention whore friend? Tell us more! We want to know!

Peachy

Sandy, I’m sorry to hear some of your friends aren’t being supportive and only want to use you to get famous. You know who
you can always call……

The Wild Juan

S
andy regretted her post about Veronica’s show within hours of seeing it on the screen. But, then again, she didn’t, really.
Veronica hadn’t called or written to her since it went up. Best of all, she’d stopped posting those ridiculous comments to
Nacho Papi under the name V for Verguenza.

Just to be sure all bases were covered, however, Sandy decided to call and explain it to their mutual friend Jane. She stood
from her seat at the staff table, where she’d stopped at one of the open laptops to check page views and reader comments before
filming the day’s segment. There was only one intern in the main office at the moment, hard at work on another computer. Sandy
walked into one of the mostly emptied side offices, one that still contained a desk and chair. Closing the door behind her,
she pulled out her phone and dialed Jane’s work number.

“What’s up?”

Jane’s short answer made Sandy wonder if she’d called at a bad time. “Hey, are you busy?”

“Of course. But I have a few minutes. What’s going on?” Jane talked quickly and quietly. Sandy imagined her at the little
desk outside her representative’s office, pretending she was on a work-related call.

“Nothing.” Sandy sat back in her chair. “Well, it’s Veronica. You know her show’s tonight.”

“Right. And I know you’re not going, because you’re pissed at her for all those stupid comments.”

“You saw my post?”

“Yeah.” Jane said.

“Has Veronica seen it?” Sandy’s emotional pendulum swung back to regret, and she wished again that she hadn’t put those words
online.