Another time I was accused of not loving her enough. She had gone on a weekend trip to Boston and called me when she arrived. She called me as she ate dinner to ask me what I had cooked. She even called me before she went to bed. The next day I didn’t hear from her. I didn’t call. The following day was no different. Soon after, my mother arrived unannounced on my New York doorstep. “Ya veo que no me quieres,” she cried. “Porque no te hago falta?” Her lower lip trembled as I went in to give her a hug and reassure her that I did love her. The woman deserved an Oscar.
