in which fear humanizes a garrido.
001. because she’s scared of frogs
Valentina disliked many things in life ( the meat dress, poorly-done balayage, and sequins among other things ), but nothing inspired a seething hatred quite like Preuilly-sur-Claise. If her mother sent Val and her siblings to France on the odd summer, it wasn’t so that the four of them could fall over themselves acting like tourists, so why was it that her auntie dearest insisted on spiriting them away to some commune in southern France?
The woman had claimed that the Garrido children would love the surprise, but Val just saw it as an additional headache. Her brothers were a handful as it was, and detours like this usually saw Valentina losing her mind in an attempt to corral the three of them.
Unfortunately for all parties involved, the trip wasn’t exactly optional.
After dragging her feet as much as she’d been allowed, Valentina had rounded up the gremlins she called brothers and followed her aunt out the door towards certain doom. The car ride was terrible ( of course ) and she’d broken up at least two fights in the process— their mother’s overbearing presence was mitigated by the distance, and it showed.
So soon as they had arrived in Preuilly-sur-Claise, the kids had poured out of the car as if the thing was on fire. None of them really wanted to be here, but it was much better than sitting in a car for an extended period of time. She’d sooner stare at the same five castles than try to break up another fight about one brother ‘not touching’ the other.
But the novelty of it all was really lost to her. They’d be walking around here until their feet hurt and beads of sweat were already collecting along her hairline. Val would have much preferred a drive to Toulouse.
In hindsight she should have been paying more attention to her brothers instead of dreaming of a different part of France. She was unprepared and all too annoyed when the eldest of the boys waltzed up to her, calling out “hey Valiente,” to grab his sister’s attention. Val had rolled her eyes at the nickname and turned, but any words had died on her tongue at the sight. A scream filling the space instead.
AJ was holding a bright green, slimy creature with big black eyes so close to Valentina’s face that she nearly fell back in her attempts to put some distance between herself and the thing.
“Oh my god, get that thing out of my face!” As annoying and persistent as AJ was, this was a losing battle, but that irrational fear of the green thing pushed Val forward. All that got her was a smile from the boy as he pushed the frog closer to her face again. “Stop it, I’m not kidding, Arturo.” Each step she took back was mirrored by her brother— he’d been particularly cold-hearted in these past years. It had to be the puberty.
And this is how one trip to the south of France goes downhill fast. Val doing her best to sidestep her brother and his new friend, and AJ using the poor frog as a weapon.
The kid must think it’s a joke, but the longer the chase goes on the harder it is for Valentina to breathe and her cheeks are getting redder and her eyes wont stop watering. Those slimy little green things are nightmarish.
Somehow, some way, she’s able to find the other two Garrido kids and her aunt, diving under the arm of the latter and using the older woman as a barrier between herself and AJ. The kid is waving the amphibian around, talking about how he’s found a frog for the Coolsville princess to kiss but Valentina’s genuinely shaking in fear of the small creature, “stay away from me you freak!”
There’s some laughter in the background and her aunt’s shrill voice talking about how boys will be boys; Val tries to hold on to the woman but she disentangles her niece’s arms from around her body and leaves the siblings to have some ‘fun’. Valentina was never coming back here.
Now at the mercy of her pubescent brother, she tried using the smaller two as fodder.
To make matters worse, she’d forgotten that Esteban was currently acting like AJ’s clone. He charged out of the way so soon as his older brother was at arm’s length, and left his older sister vulnerable to attack, “Esteban what the fuck is wrong with you?”
In the chaos, Tomas’ small voice pipes up for just a second as he pointed out, “mami says cursing isn’t ladylike.” And if Val had any mental bandwidth to spare she would’ve rolled her eyes and debated the fact. Sadly, all she can focus on is keeping AJ as far away from her as humanly possible.
Why did her aunt have to run off? Like, Valentina is arguably her most accomplished niece, and she just leaves here in the middle of these rural streets on the verge of a ranidaphobia-induced panic?
Almost as rude as the street giving way to grass and causing the eldest Garrido’s steps to fumble. Another one of those rare shrieks is filling the air as she tripped over her own feet and landed ass-first in the muddy floor beneath her— soiling a perfectly good pair of white jeans. On top of that AJ had tossed the frog onto her chest and Valentina burst into tears, fully panicking about the proximity of the frog. Yeah, she’d kill that kid one day.
002. because she’s lowkey scared of her mom
She was going to die here. Really truly, she was going to die here— and if she didn’t leave this world on her own, her mother would surely do the honors...
Valentina must have stood ruminating at the front of her home for an hour and more, before the door swung open. If she was the slightest bit relieved to see her father, the feeling soon went away as he regarded her ( or didn’t ). One passing look at his eldest child was all he allowed before making his way around her to his car. He didn’t even spare her a second glance.
It shouldn’t have hurt her as much as it did; the last time she’d shed tears over his love or lack thereof, her mother had called her a weak, silly girl. Valentina remembers that day in the car with the woman, tears streaming down her face as she sat in her leotard and skirt, screaming into the empty space about the fact that she was unloved, forgotten, a peach turned brown and ugly.
More importantly, she can't forget the way her mother brushed her off, told her to clean herself up and stop being so childish, so weak. The woman's words were as disdainful as her voice...and in the aftermath of all those feelings there was only pain. She was only eight years old when she’d found that loving things ( loving people, loving anything ) only brought her pain.
She guesses that she’s still that same dumb girl, begging her parents to see her.
Had that been the reason for this short lived rebellion? Would she have allowed herself to indulge in Charlotte’s stupid little dramaticisms had she been different? All those years had passed and Valentina had just become a weaker girl.
Whatever venom her mother would throw then was well deserved.
Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking as she made her way into the home. The house had always felt so clinical, and now its pristine surfaces only served to exacerbate her anxieties. This version of Valentina didn’t belong here— not with her disheveled hair, red eyes and torn stockings, but the longer she stood outside the higher the risk of one of the neighbors seeing her. Valentina couldn’t put this off forever.
One step and then another, right? That’s what she told herself as she crossed the foyer and closed the door behind her, the movements slow as if to prolong the inevitable ( if only for another minute of calm before the storm ).
So soon as her mother spotted her, she had closed the distance between them, a hand reaching out to grab Valentina’s face, “and where have you been?”
There’s no worry behind her tone, that much she knows. There’s only rage, and resent and disgust. How dare Valentina embarrass her in any way? How dare she think she had any free reign to do as she pleased? “Do you know how many people were asking me where you had gone? You disappeared with that little Milder girl, and I had to tell everyone that I sent you home.”
Cecilia’s grip on her daughter’s face is biting, but Valentina doesn’t dare voice the pain. A mistake was made and she was a big girl, she’d take it in stride.
“You are a disgrace to me, Valentina.” I know. “We have given you everything and you’re still so ungrateful!” I know. “Trust me when I say that I would have shipped you off to France for good if we hadn’t invested so much in you.” I know. “Explain yourself.” I-
How could she? Wasn’t Valentina’s appearance evidence enough? “Explain yourself, now.”
“I...we...I mean...” She always felt so small in the presence of the woman. Tomorrow Cecilia would be telling her daughter that the words were a necessary evil, that she loved her and needed to help Valentina rectify her faults but this love was so painful. Sometimes, she just didn’t want it. Most days, she realized it had played a part in her successes. If weakness bore failure, then her mother simply wanted to make her strong enough to accomplish her goals.
But as the tears in her eyes cloud her vision, she pretends that the look in her mother’s eyes is one of worry. “I’m sorry mama, I...I went out with Charlotte and...and we stayed out all night...and I know I have curfew and I’m so sorry that I didn’t ask for permission-”
“Are you high, Valentina?” The shrill tone hurts her ears in such close proximity, but she doesn’t do anything to confirm or deny the hypothesis. Still, the woman releases her, if that’s of any consolation. “Give me your phone. You don’t know how to use it, obviously, so why should you have it?” Her mother held her hand out, waiting for the device, but her words kept coming, “you’re gonna go to your room, and you’re gonna wash the filth of off you. You’re going to throw out that blouse and those stockings and then you’re gonna think about what you did. You’re grounded.”
Val reached into her bag and placed the phone in her mother’s hand...she wouldn’t argue, the woman was right.
Her steps are slow and lethargic as they carry her to her room and Valentina keeps her gaze on the ground as she passes the many mirrors in the home. In this moment, she’s an ugly, imperfect thing, staining the pristine image of the Garrido family. In this moment she is every bit a failure, just like her mother warned her she could be.
