Carmen María Montiel - Stolen Identity

As soon as my mother was in Houston, I sat down and started explaining everything that had happened: the abuse, the plane incident, even the first and second setups.

My mother, who knows her children and how she raised us, started to cry.

“I cannot believe this has happened. What happened to him? Why does he want to hurt you so badly? You are the mother of his children. You two were so in love when you got married!”

Finally, she said: “Honey, God is good and knows the truth. He will help you, and you are going to be free, and a testament for many other women.”

My mother always expected me to be this bigger-than-life person. Every time she said something to cheer me up, it was a prophecy. Just like when I lost the Miss Universe pageant but came so close. When I encountered her after the event, she hugged me and said: “You were the winner, but our country needs you more!”

My days passed slowly and were very boring. I have worked since I was a kid right up until I filed for divorce. Alejandro fired me two days after the court ordered him to get out of the house.

All I did during the day was meet with lawyers. They were preparing for the first hearing in family court. Alejandro now wanted to take the children away from me. As soon as I recovered from the shock, and with my mother making sure I was well fed, I started going to the gym again. I had exercised all of my life doing spinning, yoga, weight lifting and playing tennis. I always kept in shape, which helped me to maintain my body as it was the day after the Miss Universe pageant, even after having three children. Exercising made me feel good physically and mentally.

I lost most of my friends in Houston during the divorce. They just stopped talking to me! The people who embraced me were the ones I least expected. Friends who were not close to me before became my most loyal ones. And people I did not know at all embraced me when they learned what was going on. They reached out to me. I discovered what true friendship is all about at this point in my life. I realized that I wasted years in Houston with these “friends” who ran away at the time I needed them the most. Friendship should be just like marriage: “for better or for worse.”

I met wonderful, loving people during this time. Real people! I also discovered in this difficult time the value of family more than ever. My family surrounded me and covered me with love. My two sisters put their lives on hold to travel and be with me. My brothers were very protective. My children became closer to me than ever. I began to enjoy time with them that I was not able to before, when my time was dedicated to their father. And they liked it that now I was 120% with them. I did not have to sit on that black sofa with Alejandro from the time he came home until we went to bed. That sofa was my punishment! Not even my own children could talk to me during that time. I was his prisoner in my own home.

I learned many life lessons during that dark period. This proved to be the worst time of my life but also the most beautiful one!

He is walking toward me. I can see him through the bars. His face is familiar and I am happy to see him. He is shaking a baby bottle. My mouth melts… uhm! It is my favorite, Toddy (Venezuela’s chocolate milk by excellence). He is whistling. As he gets closer, he stops whistling and starts singing “ Muñequita linda ” and he has this beautiful bright white smile. The sound is familiar to me and I am soothed by it. I am on my back and cannot stand up. I am so happy to see him. It is a new day. He looks clean and smells like he always does… fresh. This is all familiar to me. He must have been getting my first bottle of the day, my favorite!

My dad is wearing his silk burgundy robe and his slippers. He looks like a king. His face is of pure love when he sees me. I get the bottle with my hand as he says, “ Buenos días .” He smiles while looking at me and then disappears from my eyesight.

This is my first memory of life with my dad, whom I loved so much. I always felt safe with him. I must have been a baby since I was in my crib and could not stand up.

He is the reason I trusted men and never thought anything bad could come from them, because I expected all men to be like him.

There are many memories of my first years. They come to mind like flashes, always the same, always surrounded by family starting in Maracaibo.

Maracaibo is the oil region in Venezuela.

Maracuchos are proud people. We are called “regionalists,” people that like and defend their region.

The country is named for the houses or palafitos in the nation’s biggest lake, Lago de Maracaibo, which is the oldest lake on earth. The palafitos are in the water. When Américo Vespucio saw them, he called us “Little Venice.” That is why my country’s name is Venezuela… Little Venice.

Maracaibo is flat and of course is hot all year around, much like Houston in the summer time. My mother used to look through the window in the morning while having breakfast and say, “Today is going to be hot.” Like there was any difference. What she meant was “hotter.” She said that whenever the trees did not move at all, that meant there was no breeze, a hotterthan- usual day. For her that was a killer. She is from Altamira, Barinas, an Andean town located where the Cordillera Andina starts. The Cordillera Andina is the longest mountain chain in the world and extends all the way down to Argentina, across Colombia, Ecuador, Bolivia, Peru and Chile.

Back then, school was all day. We went in the morning, came back home for lunch, then returned for the rest of the day.

Our favorite was when Mom could not pick us up for lunch and uncle David, my father’s older brother who never got married and had no kids, was sent to get us.

The instructions from my mother were the same every time: “David, please no ice cream before getting home. Remember, they will not eat their lunch.”

But as a rule, as soon as we got in his car: “Ice cream, kids?”

It was paradise. My uncle David always had little wooden spoons in his pocket, because ice cream for him only tasted good with them.

“David, again? Really? They are not going to eat lunch,” my mother said as soon as she found out we did indeed have ice cream. It was impossible to hide.

“But I am hungry. I will eat,” he used to say.

I was the smallest of the “yours, mine and ours” pack. My parents were divorced and remarried, each bringing children from the previous marriage, and then having my sister and me. At that time, we were as modern as can be, for not too many people were divorced and remarried then. That was the modern family of today. We were the Brady Bunch before they ever existed!

I felt like I was living among giants, all of these grown people around, surrounding me. My older sister (from my mother) and the boys (one from my mother and the rest from my dad) were teenagers. My house was always full with family, friends and their friends. And they all wanted to hug me and hold me and carry me.

I imagine I must have been cute and irresistible… hahahaha! They all wanted my kisses.

I kissed and kissed until I got tired, then I would say, “That is it, no more kisses. I ran out.”

“You must have more,” they would say.

“I have to make them.”

“Well, go make them.”

And I went and made more kisses.

The table was the best in our house, especially for dinnertime. At lunchtime it was fast; everybody had to get back to school and Dad to work. However, we all managed to squeeze in a nap. That was the time life was relaxed and beautiful.

But dinnertime was so much fun! The table was full with all the kids and my parents. My mother only allowed us to have a soda at lunchtime and only one, but not for dinner. For dinner, she would make a nutritious drink. That could be chicha , avena (made with oats) Toddy, milk or a fruit shake.