In fact, Elena’s so set on me getting good grades that after we learned my school couldn’t provide a laptop for remote learning she spent hours desperately making calls to see if anyone could loan us one. Even a great public school is still a federally funded one. Our computer broke down months ago, which, honestly, wasn’t that big a deal because I usually just typed my papers at school or at Parisa’s house anyway. And I use my phone for the internet. If it were up to me, they could dip into my college fund as much as they wanted. I am not interested in suffering through another four years of a formal education. I’d be more content finding a cheap studio somewhere in Oakland and selling paintings on Telegraph Avenue to Berkeley undergrads who need affordable art for their dorm rooms.

Eventually, one day, I’m hoping I’ll have enough saved up to move to Mexico City. My dream is to get an apartment in Coyoacán, where Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera lived, and a job working for the Zona Maco art fair. And maybe one day, I’ll even have a painting hanging in the Soumaya Museum. My grandparents (on Julia’s side) grew up in Bernal, a picturesque village just a few hours outside Mexico City, and apparently, before they ended up moving to California, my abuela wanted to go to art school at the Academy of San Carlos. I don’t know if it would be poetic or psychotic for me to live out the life she didn’t end up pursuing. Probably psychotic, considering I’ve never met her.

I hear a door slam, then Julia storms into the living room, grabs her keys, and says she’s going on a drive. I wave goodbye and count how long it takes Elena to blast Tori Amos from their bedroom. Four seconds.

My moms went to high school in the nineties and were obsessed with musicians like Tori Amos, Fiona Apple, and Ani DiFranco. Sometimes it feels like, inside our tiny apartment, they’re living in a state of arrested development and I’m being raised in a time warp, but they like to remind me that we wouldn’t have Olivia Rodrigo or Billie Eilish without Fiona or Tori. I hope one day people say the same thing about me and María Izquierdo. But it won’t be today.