Conquistador Blood

         At nearly 18, there wasn't much left in the world that could surprise her, but her mother had found it. Christina sat in the chair and stared blankly at her mothers most serious face. This is a joke right? Her mother wasn't laughing. Christina bowed her head. Her mother had just told her the man she knew as her father wasn't who he had claimed to be. The mere fact he had walked out on them when she was a baby had been bad enough.
         "So who is he?"
         "I'll get to that. After he left, he made me promise to wait till you were 18 to tell you. The Spanish last name you grew up with isn't even your birth name. After your father told me the truth, I had to chose what to do in regards to your future. Once people found out your pure Spanish heritage I was afraid it would hurt your chances of going to the college I work at."
         She didn't get it. So what if his last name wasn't the one she carried? Some people have the same name as serial killers and they managed fine. But then her mother took her hands. "There is more. Your grandmother wasn't his mother, she was his grandmother. the woman you knew as your aunt was his mother. It was shameful for a teenage to have a child out of wedlock for the Roman Catholic Church. Your father was born believing his grandmother was his mom. In doing so your father was cut out of the family fortune. But when your grandmother died she repented and your father left to reclaim the fortune." She paused."Your father is Santana Hernando Cortes, proven blood descent of Hernan Cortes"
         It hit her. Most people her mother worked with were those descended from the natives that were suppressed by the conquest. Even after 400 years tension existed. Her fathers' family came out of the Castile region of Spain, she was once told. She knew they were deeply connected to the history. She seen photos, heard stories but was always told to forget. Yet somehow a part of her always knew, had always felt it. Suddenly Christina was sad and angry. In school she had a parents night project a year ago on the conquistadors, a project she had been drawn to, and her mother had walked out of the classroom claiming a headache. Suddenly she knew she had been lying. Lying to hid the truth.
         "No wonder you never taught me Spanish! You didn't want me to know did you? Do you also know Cortes and Francisco Pizarro were related? And Pizarro was crazy!" She moved her long dark hair from her eyes. Since childhood she had been proud of her light skin and dark hair. Now she felt it was tainted. "You lied to me. The man I knew growing up never existed."
         "My dear, Christina, it is ok."
         She turned on her mother. "No it is NOT ok. My ancestor raped and murdered half a world, destroyed shops, villages, a history! I even read how he was suspected of murdering a friend, Luis Ponce De Leon. I've read all about him and I have his blood! And my father turns his back on his family, this family, to return to Spain, to take the money from the gold and blood and doesn't bother telling me why himself! I hate you both!"
         She stormed out of the house.
         Hours later a cool rain hit her as she remained hurdled on the edge of a cliff. She wasn't going to jump. She just needed to think. It had taken this long for the fury behind her eyes to dissipate to the point she could actually see. She once heard that everyone is connected in some way to a famous person whether they like it or not. Christina knew it was her choice to decide what to do with the knowledge.
         She looked back across the miles in her mind and wondered. She couldn't go back to school and hide it. It wasn't her nature. Friends would ask what was wrong. She always prided herself on being able to keep her head up and face lifes challenges head on along the way. She still held dreams of crossing the globe, being a treasure hunter, of being famous.
         Famous.... Wait a second...
         She decided in those seconds what to do. She had heard of an after graduation trip to the Yucatan Peninsula being planned. The need to learn more, to be where Cortes himself had walked was suddenly very strong. She turned away from the cliff and marched home at a steady pace. As she walked she planned.
         Once back in the house she faced her mother. "I'm a Cortes, I'm going to use it to my advantage."
         "What do you mean?"
         "I'm going to get my birthright. I'm going to earn it. I'm going to Mexico and Spain. I'm going to demand certain historic items to be returned to where they belong. Maybe I'll go on a dig. I want to put things right." She kept talking as she walked off. Her mother just stared. Somehow the little mixed blood girl she loved was never going to emerge from this angry driven spirited woman she had become.

Word Count 890