FLORES AND MISS PAULA

In gentrifying Brooklyn, a mother and daughter grapple with the death of their small family's patriarch and the ways his death cause them to reconsider their lives and values.

Three years after the death of 33-year-old Mónica Flores’ father, Martín, Mónica finds a small piece of paper tucked under his urn in the Brooklyn home she shares with her 63-year-old mother, Paula. In Paula’s handwriting, the paper reads: “Forgive me if I failed you. Remember that I always loved you.” This discovery—which Mónica keeps secret, despite her shock at its message—sets up the stilted relationship between mother and daughter and their navigation of grief and regret. Mónica (a.k.a. Flores, the name she adopted at work) is overworked and underappreciated at the Bowl, a tech startup selling “aquatic creations” (a refreshing break from the digital media startups that saturate millennial workplace fiction). Flores’ six-figure debt, as well as the impending end of her lease, weighs heavily on her mind, and she experiences a crisis of conscience when her colleague presents a plot to increase share prices at the expense of their boss’ position. Meanwhile, Paula spends her days working at a local discount store; taking walks with Vicente, a married friend with whom she shares a complicated past; and trying to figure out how she wants to spend “la tercera edad” of her life—years she’d imagined would be spent traveling between New York and Lima with Martín. Each judges the other’s decisions, and the disconnect and grudges they’ve carried since Flores was a little girl, once mediated by Martín, are amplified in his absence. Paula’s narration is the more affecting of the two perspectives; her insights about motherhood, marriage, and how both can feel like traps are simple but profound. Precarity—of identity, money, shelter, relationships, health—is the central tension for both women: How do we muster the strength and hope to move forward despite life’s fragility and disappointments? It’s a question rich enough to stand on its own; unfortunately, it’s crowded by side characters and minor plots. Still, Flores and Paula are so vibrant and endearing that they minimize these narrative frustrations.

An abundance of heart makes up for underdeveloped side plots in this story of life after loss.