“My wife, 8 months pregnant, is washing your frets while you eat pizza and laugh like nothing?”
At 22:45, Diego opened the door of his house in a fractionation of Guadalupe, Nuevo León, with his shirt glued to the body by sweat and hands full of workshop fat.
He had worked 14 hours in a row fixing cargo trucks.
He just wanted to get there, hug Lucia, kiss her belly and ask if her baby had moved a lot that day.
But as soon as he came in, he felt something break inside him.
The room looked like canteen after the game.
There were 3 pizza boxes open on the table, soft drinks pulled, greasy napkins on the floor and a bag of potatoes crushed by the armchair.
On television, a gossip show played at full volume.
In the armchairs were his mother, Doña Carmen, and his 3 sisters: Brenda, 24; Karla, 21; and Sofia, 18.
They all laughed.
Doña Carmen had her feet on a cushion, wrapped in a blanket.
Brenda checked her new phone.
Karla recorded stories for Instagram.
Sofia complained because Diego hadn’t put her to her nails.
Everything in that house was paid by Diego.
The mortgage, the food, the electricity, the gas, the internet, the tuition, the medicines of his mother and even the exits of his sisters.
He thought that was being a good son.
I thought keeping everyone was a form of love.
Until that night.
“Where is Lucia?” he asked, his jaw tight.
Brenda didn’t even look up.
In the kitchen, dude. According to her she was tired, but we already told her to help with something.
Karla let out a mocking laugh.
“Oh, Diego, don’t overdo it. No more are some transtectites. Also, pregnant does not mean useless.
Doña Carmen sighed as if she were teaching a life lesson.
“Mijo, when I was pregnant with you, I washed, I would mop, cook, and still go to the market carrying bags. Now the girls believe that by having belly they are already glass.
Diego didn’t answer.
He walked to the kitchen.
Every step weighed more.
When he arrived, he was frozen.
Lucia was barefoot in front of the sink.
Her huge belly hit the bar.
He had one hand on his back and with the other he carved a burnt pot.
Her maternity blouse was wet.
His eyes were red.
His face, pale.
His legs were shaking.
Seeing it, he tried to smile.
“Love… you have arrived. Give me 5 minutes and I warm you up dinner.
The voice broke.
Diego closed the water tap and took the fiber out of his hand.
“It’s over, Lucia. You’re not going to wash one more plate.
She got scared.
Please don’t do courage. Your mom’s gonna get more angry.
Diego felt his chest fill with anger.
“More? Since when do they treat you like this?
Lucia looked down.
A tear fell straight on his belly.
—For 3 months. They say I’m a maintained one. That you kill yourself while I make the sick.
Diego clenched his fists.
Before he could say anything, Lucia doubled in pain.
He took the 2 hands to his belly and let out a dry groan.
“It hurts me… Diego, it hurts a lot.
He immediately loaded her and took her to the bedroom.
He called the doctor.
The answer left him cold.
At 8 months, that level of effort and stress can lead to an emergency. Watch her. If there is bleeding, bring it now.
Diego went down the stairs with his breath cut off.
In the living room, his family kept laughing.
He walked to the TV and ripped the cable from a pull.
Everything was silent.
“What’s wrong with you?” Sofia shouted. I was watching my show!
Diego looked at them one by one.
“Right now they’re going to tell me what they’ve done to my wife.
And just as Doña Carmen opened her mouth to become the victim, Diego saw something in the trash can of the kitchen that froze her blood, because it was impossible to believe what was about to happen.
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