Searching for Love, Found Wealth

My eyes widened. Is Martinez some big shot? Why would someone ask me for money only cos I bear the name?

“Umm… no. No one asked me for money. Are they supposed to?”.

My mom had the look she usually had when she was looking for a way to break a sad news. I braced myself for the impact.

“You are a big fan of Korean movies right?” she started. Yeah, it was surely a bad news and she was trying to break it in the mildest way.

I shrugged, “The action ones anyway”.

She lifted her head to start but brought it down.

“I just need to know. Martinez is grandpa’s name. Is he some kind of big shot that he’s name stirs rumors?” I was slightly excited.

“Your real grandpa is. He’s named Martinez” she said quietly.

Real grandpa? My butt elevated from my bed. The grandpa I knew wasn’t my real grandpa.

I had never even seen him before bit just heard about him and had video called him severally.

My mom was hesitant to tell me but I was so eager to hear it. If my real grandpa was a big shot, one that my English teacher was specially interested in, then it was a good thing.

I kept on nudging her to open up but she looked anxious. It began worrying me.

“Your grandpa, the one you know, is actually Bob. Martinez is my real family name. Your mom is half Spanish, half American” she began her story.

So, in an unboring summary, my mom’s dad was actually a Spanish man who fell in love with an American woman, much to his family’s dismay.

They had wanted him to marry another Spanish lady that was a family friend.

I get why my mom referenced Korean movies but I think French movies are more better at featuring forced marriages than Korean movies. My own opinion.

As I was narrating, my mom’s dad had ran away from home to be with her lover who he eventually got married to.

My grandpa’s marriage was beautiful and only cut short when he died untimely.

My grandma then tried remarrying but she died soon after too, giving birth to the ‘runaway aunt’ of mine.

Her widowed husband, actually Bob, took care of my mom like he’s own. And since my mom was only eight when he became her dad, she bonded well with him.

So, mom always knew her real father’s family was named Martinez and when she found out about them, they were also searching for the daughter of their son cos they heard he was dead.

But mom also emphasized she didn’t want anything to do with them cos they were to demanding, traditional and had strict rules even about love.

Well the interesting part of her narration was, the name Martinez sparked reactions cos her family were generational multi-millionaires.

Very few answered Martinez here at America cos the name is usually seen as to belong to her family. Other families called Martinez were called “copycats”.

For short, my mom’s family were called the Martz.

I did remember a junior mocking her friend saying that a snack was too expensive that only members of the Martz family could afford it.Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org exclusive © material.

I didn’t take it much to consideration and termed it with the millions of things I don’t know. Or a very rare idiomatic expression.

So it was, technically, my family that were called the Martz.

So mom’s an illegal member of their family? Illegal? Does it qualify as illegal?

I was excited for one, I have cousins and I came from a rich home.

But mom didn’t want me to tell a soul and just reply that my name was Martinez. If I wanted I could say I wasn’t from around or just accept being called a copycat Martinez.

Perfect Pilipino movie to me.

I asked her if Charles knew and she said he did. As he was the one who helped her get a house that wasn’t a property of the Martz.

They owned so many properties that it would be difficult buying a house that wasn’t theirs at our area at Washington.

She apologized for the pressure I would be on to hiding my identity even when I’d meet my family members.

I asked again if any of them were at my school. And she said none were. They mainly schooled abroad.

Well, something worth boasting about but I got to keep shut. When mom brought up if Charles and I were quarreling, I quickly dismissed her with excuse of a homework.

I couldn’t even tell Sheena and Chloe about the real origin on my name, Martinez.

At school the next day, I was quiet cos I had something on my mind which I couldn’t voice out.

Reuben came around sharing a graph book the principal gifted to all grade twelve students for his birthday.

I heard the principal had given grade seven big jotter books instead, I’d have preferred that.

I stretched out to Reuben to get my graph but he skipped me and handed it to Sheena.

Sheena was confused but took it anyway. Chloe smiled brightly and said thank you. I called to him but he just kept on going.

“He’s playing” Sheena told me.

I shrugged and kept on watching him. It remained only one more and he gave it to Chris.

I stood up subconsciously. That thing didn’t give me any. I quietly sat back as he just walked out of the class.

“Now, where did you go wrong with Reuben?” Sheena asked, scratching her head thinking of what’s wrong.

Our teacher was speaking with a colleague so I sneaked out of our class and followed Rueben.

I didn’t know what I was doing but I was curious to know how Reuben lived knowing he brutally ignored and denied me of my rights.

Halfway, I stopped. Was I going to have a fight with me just cos he didn’t give me a graph book? I could just buy one and ignore him.

I didn’t even know where he had headed to.

I turned back and saw him coming out of the principal’s office, possibly to tell him how he gave “everyone” his gifts.

He waved to me and I wanted to ignore him but then someone called “Martinez”. I looked over and sighed.