|Rosario Ortiz (reluciente) wrote in nevermore_logs,|
@ 2021-07-30 23:53:00
|Entry tags:||rosario ortiz|
WHO Rosario Ortiz
WHEN Wednesday 21 July, after this
WHERE Bushwick, Brooklyn
WHAT Aftermath of a revelation
|In the early evening, Rosario slipped back into the apartment to be met by a waft of melting cheese. The scent caught on a memory that swelled in her when she caught sight of the pot and cooking implements soaking in the sink.|
When they were kids, Abuela had done most of the cooking. Amparo’s cooking style, if she had one, could best be described as ‘Dominican home cooking by way of the 99 cent store’, a mix of pantry staples and whatever happened to be on sale at the time. She’d top her pastelónes with Tater Tots and sub ramen noodles into espagueti. Admittedly, it was cost-effective, and most of the time it only looked alarming, though it had also given all three of the girls an added impetus to learn to cook for themselves. Mami mostly only cooked dinner on holidays or days off, when she wasn’t worn out from being on her feet all day, which meant she hardly ever cooked.
And maybe her meals weren’t anything fancy, but there was a kind of comfort associated with them, like being wrapped up in a warm hug. Rosario had been cooking mac and cheese since she was old enough to be trusted with the stove, but she could never manage to get it as golden or as cheesy or as creamy as her mom’s was.
She didn’t even notice the background murmur of the TV till it clicked off. “Charo…?”
We wanted you to be safe and happy, m’ija. That’s all we wanted. Her mom’s hands folding around her own. Her mom’s eyes shining with tears.
Rosario had ripped her hands away. So you lied to me? My whole life? I’m twenty-four, how long were you gonna wait to tell me?!
I- I— Her mom’s lower lip had trembled. In the faltering silence, Rosario had heard the answer loud and clear.
Never. They never would’ve told her.
She couldn’t even remember what she’d said to that. She’d been so angry (or hurt) she couldn’t even see straight, her vision blurring with stinging (or furious) tears. She thought she might have yelled. She’d definitely made a point of slamming the door when she’d stomped out.
And her mom… her mom, who’d risked walking out on a shift to be there for her, who she’d left crying in their apartment… had cooked her dinner.
Rosario hugged her middle, feeling a sharp spear of guilt.
She was still angry, and hurt. Some of it at Mami, some of it at Dad and Abuela. A lot of it at Archer stupid Goldenhawk the stupid Second and the stupid unfairness of everything.
But she had a plan now, and Lyra’s support, and the smell of Ma’s mac and cheese cooking in the oven, and she didn’t wanna fight about it anymore, she just… she really wanted a hug. It was surprisingly easy to sink into her mom’s arms.
She stuck around for dinner. It was just the two of them; Cam was busy and Abuela had rejigged cards night and Ma had arranged for Dad to take Chicky out (and hearing that, Rosario had felt another pinch of something that might’ve been love or guilt or both). Ma fussed and apologised and offered to talk about it, and Rosario told her it was fine, it was fine, really, it was fine.
And later, at Lyra’s, long after her best friend had fallen asleep, Rosario opened the notes app on her phone, ducking under the covers to hide the light of the screen. And she started a new list.
She began with what she knew, which was almost nothing.
ARCHER GOLDENHAWK II
- son of AG1 and ???
- Columbia 1996-1999 (alpha pi omicron)
- AG1 also alum (70s??)
- son born ~2000 (wife? other kids?)
- ~based in Dubai these days~
- no web presence??
That was it. The entirety of what she had on her supposedly bigshot rich guy bio-dad. Google barely seemed to know who he was. Wikipedia, which had annotated entries on dozens of so-called “reclusive billionaires” (she’d checked), came up empty. It was like he was deliberately hiding from her, the jerk.
Well, she’d just have to look harder.
- what business is he in?? business registries, family trusts, newspaper archives, web archives
- company names? employees?
- school - yearbooks, student papers, graduation records 1996-1999 (70s?)
- alpha pi omicron - alumni network? facebook?? who went to school with him? history of frat (AG1 bankrolled??)
- family - birth/death/marriage announcements
- where did $ come from?
It was only a rough plan, but it was a start, something to build off, and seeing the words laid out in black and white helped ease a knot in her stomach.
Starting tomorrow, she’d hit the books. Lyra would hit up Archer, try and get him talking. Information, that was the key to everything. Once she had it, once she cracked this bastard open, then she’d have her way forward. No question.