Diego didn’t expect a response.
He walked straight into the trash can.
He shoved his hand between greasy napkins, broken boxes and food scraps.
He took out 2 empty boxes of medication.
Then another.
Then a small bottle, still with drops in the background.
He read them carefully.
Iron.
Prenatal vitamins.
Medication for pressure.
Diego’s face changed completely.
It was no longer anger.
It was horror.
What do these medicines do in the trash?
No one spoke.
The turned-off TV left the house too quiet.
Brenda swallowed saliva.
Karla stopped recording.
Sofia looked at Doña Carmen.
And Doña Carmen, for the first time in the night, had no quick response.
Diego lifted the jar.
These drops were not empty. The doctor sent them to Lucia for her pressure. Who threw them?
“Oh, my wife, don’t start with dramas,” said Doña Carmen, slowly rising. That girl gets too much into it. In my time we didn’t need that much birthing pill.
Diego felt his eyesight cloud.
Did you throw them away?
Doña Carmen raised her chin.
“I just took away what was making her weak.
Brenda stepped in, nervous.
“Mom said it was like a test, Diego. That if Lucia stopped depending on medicines, she would prove that she could with the house and with pregnancy.
“A test?” Diego almost spit out the word. Did you have a test of an 8-month-old pregnant woman?
Karla wanted to sound brave, but the voice trembled at her.
“For she always said that she was getting dizzy, that her head was hurting, that she needed to rest. Neta, it looked like pure theater.
Diego hit the table with his hand.
The glasses jumped.
He had anemia and high pressure! That’s why the doctor sent him that!
Sofia started crying.
“We didn’t think it was that serious…
“They didn’t think anything,” Diego said. Because they never think. They just demand.
Doña Carmen approached him with the hard gesture.
“Don’t talk to your mother like that. Everything I did was for your sake. That woman’s got you manipulated. Since he arrived, you’re not the same anymore.
Diego let out a bitter laugh.
No, Mom. Since Lucia arrived, I started to see who you were.
Brenda crossed her arms.
Now what? Are you going to run us for some medicine?
Diego pulled out his cell phone.
Abrió la aplicación del banco.
The screen lit up his tired face.
“No. I’m gonna stop keeping them.
The 4 women were still.
—The additional cards are blocked from now. Uber, nails, clothes, private college, outings, food orders… it’s all over.
“Don’t stain!” cried Karla. I have to pay a monthly payment tomorrow!
“Work.
“I have a trip to Mazatlan in 2 weeks!” Brenda slashed
“Cancel it.”
Sofia cried louder.
What am I going to do without money?
Diego looked at her without blinking.
“The same thing millions of people do in Mexico: get up early and earn it.
Doña Carmen took her hand to her chest.
You’re killing me, Diego. I’m your mother.
He pointed up.
“My wife is in bed because you humiliated her, weired her down and threw her medicine. Don’t talk to me about death, Mom.
At that moment, a blow was heard on the second floor.
Then another.
Diego looked up.
Lucia was on the stairs, holding on from the railing.
His face was white.
His lips were shaking.
And a thread of blood was down his leg.
“Diego…” he whispered.
Then it collapsed.
He ran up.
He caught up with her before she completely fell.
He loaded it like it was glass.
“Open the door!” he shouted.
No one moved.
Doña Carmen was crying.
Brenda repeated “can’t be.”
Karla was paralyzed.
Sofia prayed.
Diego came down with Lucia in his arms, took the keys and went out without looking back.
Doña Carmen tried to stop him.
“Son, please don’t leave us like this…
Diego turned with his eyes full of tears.
When I get back, I don’t want to see them at my house. They have 24 hours.
“We are your family,” her mother sobbed.
Diego pressed Lucia against her chest.
My family is bleeding in my arms.
The road to the hospital was a nightmare.
Diego drove along almost empty avenues, touching the horn, begging quietly.
“He hangs in, my love. Hold for our baby.
In the emergency room they took her immediately.
The doctors spoke quickly.
Pressure at 180.
severe anemia.
Risk to the mother.
Risk to the baby.
Emergency C-section.
Diego was left alone in the waiting room.
With bloodstained clothes.
With his hands shaking.
With guilt biting his soul.
For years I had thought that being a man was to endure.
Hold on to the mother.
Hold on to the sisters.
Endure claims.
Hold on to blackmail.
But that night he understood something brutal: endure abuse does not make you noble, it makes you complicit.
It was 12 hours.
At 14:00 the next day, a small but strong cry came out of the operating room.
Emiliano was born.
It weighed 2 kilos.
It was fragile.
I needed care.
But he was alive.
