I skip my usual morning red and have a double shot of espresso, hoping that a nice hit of caffeine will save me from the total exhaustion I wake up with. After spending the entire night tossing and turning over Cal’s surprise midnight appearance, I’m tempted to crawl back into bed and sleep the rest of Saturday. I totally would if I wasn’t expected to be in mom mode all day.
Cami loves constant attention and affection, and I’m happy to spoil her with that. After growing up with a father who abandoned me and a sister who didn’t give a shit about me, there’s nothing I want more than for Cami to always feel loved.
Usually, I can make arepas con queso from scratch without a problem, but today, my feet are dragging as I head to the pantry. It’s days like today that make me wish I’d bought colorful, sugary cereal at the grocery store like most families and called it food.
I’m barely able to finish preparing breakfast. By the time I finish cutting up some fruit and pouring Cami a small cup of juice, I’m almost ready to tip over.
“Do you feel okay, Mommy?”
“Just tired.” I lean against the counter.
His forehead wrinkles. “Do you still want to watch the game?”
I gesture at our matching yellow soccer jerseys. “Of course. Your grandmother wouldn’t expect anything less.” My mom’s love for our national team never faded even after we moved to the United States from Barranquilla when I was seven years old. Cami and I honor her memory by continuing the tradition to watch the games together while we eat one of his favorites, pandebonos.
“Hurrah!” Cami’s bright smile with her missing front tooth warms my heart.
“It’s fixed then. Now eat while I do your hair. Braiding Cami’s hair is a relaxing task to keep my mind occupied. Throughout the day, I probably do her hair at least three different times. It doesn’t matter what kind of Whatever hairstyles you try or what products you use, it only takes an hour for your hair to become a mess of knots and flyaways.
He puts pieces of food in his mouth while I brush his hair. In the middle of me finishing her French braid, my stomach growls, so I reach out to steal a piece of her fruit.
She knocks my hand away. “Hey! Get one of your own.”
I tickle him until he stops hoarding his strawberries. Her cheeky little sigh makes me smile as she stabs a piece of a cut strawberry and offers me her fork. I’m about to take a bite, but the doorbell rings, interrupting me.
“I have it!” Cami jumps off her stool.
“Not so fast there.” She caught her before she ran out of the kitchen and placed her back on the seat. “What did I say about opening the door?” “Don’t open the door to strangers.” Her legs swing back and forth beneath her, still too short to reach the ground.
I touch his nose. “Exactly. Why don’t you finish while I go see who’s there?” I point to his plate before leaving the kitchen.
On my way to the front door, I check the doorbell app on my phone. Cal paces around the front porch. You go from shoving your hands in your front pockets, running your hands through your messy hair, and assessing the wood planks on your porch, all in a single minute. I’m not sure if his ADHD or anxiety is to blame for all the sudden movements, but damn, he can’t sit still to save his life.
As much as I resent the thought of talking to Cal after yesterday, I have to give him credit for showing up bright and early this morning, looking for answers. He earns a modicum of respect from me.
Maybe he cares after all.
I quickly push the thought out of my mind. Her showing up today has nothing to do with me and everything to do with finding out who Cami’s father is. She probably wouldn’t even be here if she hadn’t left things the way I did last night. Since I chose to avoid dealing with Cal and the emotions he stirred up, this is my consequence. It was not my moment anymore
mature, but I had no idea how to handle it thinking I would have sex with someone so soon after we broke up.
I know we only dated for a few months, but they meant the world to me. And for a while, I thought he felt the same way.
I should have known better.
Although I’m tempted to leave him out for a few more minutes so he can ponder his thoughts, it might as well put us both out of our misery.
His lips moving silently catch my attention, and I turn up the volume on the app just enough so I can hear him.
“What if I suck at being a parent?” he asks himself.
“Well, it’s not like you can be worse than your father,” he replies to himself.
“He is a narcissistic psychopath. “The bar wasn’t very high to begin with.”
I don’t want to find him affectionate, not even in the slightest, but I find my lips curling upward at the sight of him having a full conversation with himself.
Why are you smiling at him of all people?
The thought is sobering, and I lock my phone to avoid stealing another glance.
I roll my shoulders back before opening the door. Cal looks up as he hears the hinges creak, revealing his reddened eyes and her haggard appearance. I would bet on the fact that she is most likely hungover rather than sleep deprived like me. It’s obvious in the way he flinches at the bright light hanging above me, illuminating the entrance. My nails dig into my palms at the evidence of his addiction.
It’s not your problem.
So why does the stabbing pain in my chest intensify at the thought of him continuing to suffer throughout his life?
“We have to talk,” he snaps.
I check to make sure Cami isn’t sneaking around the corner before closing the door behind me. “Right now?”
“Yes right now. I would have liked to have had this conversation last night, but someone kicked me out before we had a chance to clear anything up.
A sigh escapes me before I have a chance to crush it. “All good.” I open the door. “Cami! “I’m going to grab the mail, so I’ll be back in a few minutes!” My voice echoes from the high ceilings.
She shouts her response, but it comes out muffled, most likely due to stuffing her mouth full of pancakes.
“Do I really only have a few minutes for a conversation like this?” I can’t leave her alone for long. The last time she was working outside, she stole my mascara and ended up with an infection after stabbing her eye.”
“Well.” He doesn’t even crack a smile, which is unusual for him.
He is nervous. Without him taking a drink to calm his anxiety, the truth becomes apparent as we walk to the mailbox in silence. The mansion looms behind us, casting an enormous shadow across the overgrown front lawn, making the property seem even larger than its fourteen thousand square feet.
Part of me wants him to take over the conversation and force me to respond, but his lips remain pursed as I grab the mail.
What are you waiting for? Just tell him the truth.
That’s the thing. I’m not sure how to do that without having a breakdown over my sister. No matter how much time has passed, I still can’t talk about Antonella without crying or getting angry. I hope there is a day when she can look back on our memories and smile.
Except today is not that day.
Instead, I am inundated by a wave of negative emotions. pain _ Worry _ Anguish. Each one hits harder than the last. I usually have a good understanding of them, but I’ve always been weak when it comes to my older sister and her challenges.
Fighting drugs is not a challenge, Alana. It’s an addiction. My hand holding the mail shakes, making the envelopes shake. Cal places a hand on mine to stop my task. “Hey.”
I find the idea of looking him in the eye impossible, so I keep my gaze focused on the open mailbox. Any response gets caught in my throat.
“Is Camila mine?” The way she asks it, soft and nonjudgmental, almost breaks me.
I wonder for a smaller second what he would do if she were. Is he the kind of man who would step forward and offer to help, or would he walk away like always, proving once again how disappointed he is?
None of this matters.
I strengthen my spine and look him straight in the eyes. “No, she’s not.”
He lets go of my hand as if his skin might catch fire if he touches me for one more second. A dark look passes over her face, completely unusual. “Who’s the guy you slept with?” Her question has a sharp edge.
I take a breath. “Are you seriously accusing me of this again ?”
“I know how babies are made, and if I’m not the dad, someone has to be. So I’m curious who caught your attention not even a month after I left.
My mind goes blank as I charge forward and stab him in the middle of his chest with my index finger. “You’re okay. Someone has to be Cami’s father, although I’m not sure who since my sister was on drugs for most of her pregnancy.” The words come out loud and clear despite the ringing in my ears.
His lightly pressed lips open and the wrinkles on his forehead smooth out until they disappear. “I’m sorry, Alana. I was stupid to assume that you slept with…
Whatever expression is on my face makes him take a few steps back. “Excuse me? Did you think I slept with someone right after you left and then had her child?” My voice booms.
Raise your hands in submission. “If you did, it’s not for me to judge.”
“Do you really think that little of what we had together?” I think getting a thousand needles in your heart would be less painful than this conversation. I’m careful not to let my emotions show on my face, but inside, I allow myself to feel every twinge of pain. If I hold on to the pain, then I won’t risk falling into their usual nonsense, the kind that makes my heart soften and my knees weak with a single smile.
Take a step forward. “Fuck no . But you had every right to do whatever you wanted after I left.
“Which includes connecting with someone just a month later? Are you serious right now?
His eyes open. “I told you to move on.”
“The more you say that, the more I wonder if maybe that’s what you wanted.”
Take a big step back. “What? No. I mean—” He lets out a frustrated exhale. “It wasn’t like that for me.”
“So, how was it ?” My heart beats against my chest. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion. “How was what ?”
My voice drops, barely louder than a whisper. “Get away from me”. Regret hits me instantly, making me wish I had never opened my mouth and asked my question in the first place.
He avoids looking at me while focusing on something over my shoulder. “I can’t answer that.”
My heart stutters in my chest. “Why not?”
He moved on, right?
Of course he did. He was the one who broke up with you, not the other way around. While you were waiting for him to come back, he was hanging out with all the people from all over Chicago.
“You know what? Forget I asked. The thought of him being with someone else makes my stomach turn, and I’m suddenly desperate to get away from this conversation. “I’ve been gone for over five minutes, so I should come back.”
He clings to my elbow as his pained eyes roam over my face. “You always deserved better than me.”
I pull my arm out of his grasp. “No. I deserved better from you.
