After the experience in Heredia, I made the decision to stay in the United States and continue my relationship with Ted. David was now gone as he could not stop picking up men at Mr. Henrys and I was not to follow Jacky Kennedy’s steps.
While I was preparing for the Christmas holidays, I called my sister who, at this time, lived in Sebastopol, an insignificant town in California. She had a new friend, Azucena, a Jew. While we were talking, an ope-rator interrupted and told my sister that she had a call from Costa Rica.
“What happened? Why did you talk for over an hour?” I said anxiously to my sister.
“I have bad news,” a cold voice said, “they found cancer in mom’s breast.”
The worst news in the world: my mother with cancer. How could I maintain my sanity? I started crying and couldn’t stop. That night I took two Valium to be able to sleep; I dreamt that my mother was in Auschwitz, bald.
“Ted, my sister called me. Mom has cancer, I have to leave New York.”
“Do you want me to take a plane and be with you?”
“I don’t have time. I’m leaving tomorrow. I’ll call you when I arrive.”