He remained still.
The doctor lowered her gaze, respecting my pain.
I continued.
—He didn’t force you to leave with Paola that same night. He didn’t force you to post photos saying that life had taken away a lie from you. He didn’t force you to send me papers to take my house and charge me for years of marriage as if I had been a bad investment.
Paola looked at him.
—Charge him/her expenses?
Diego closed his eyes.
—It was a legal strategy.
I laughed.
—What a lovely name cowards give to cruelty.
I grabbed my bag.
The doctor handed me the printed ultrasound images. I clutched them to my chest like armor.
“I’ll continue my prenatal care with you, doctor,” I said. “But don’t give him any information if I’m not there.”
Diego raised his head.
—I am the father.
I looked at him.
There it was.
Late.
But there.
Suddenly he wanted the word.
—An hour ago you came to hear how many weeks pregnant “someone else’s child” was. Fatherhood doesn’t just happen when the outcome suits you.Baby Monitor
I left the doctor’s office without waiting for an answer.
My legs were trembling in the hallway. I walked to the elevator with my back straight, even though inside I was breaking.
Diego followed me.
Paola too.
—Laura, wait.
I didn’t wait.
He reached in to stop the elevator door.
-Please.
That word sounded strange coming from her.
I never used it when I thought I was right.
“I’m going to get tested,” he said. “DNA, semen, whatever you want. We’re going to fix this.”
I looked at him from inside the elevator.
—Don’t confuse fixing with returning.
The door closed.
And finally, without him in front of me, I bent down.
I cried with the ultrasound images pressed to my chest, while a strange lady in the elevator asked me if I was okay.
It wasn’t right.
But my babies did.
And that day that was enough.
I got home and locked the door.
Then I pushed the chair back against the door, out of habit, though I no longer knew if it was fear or courage. I left the pictures on the table and stared at them for hours.
Two little spots.
Two heartbeats.
Two lives.
My mother arrived in the afternoon. I had sent her a message with a photo of the ultrasound and a single sentence:
“There are two.”
She came in crying.
He hugged me without asking anything.
—Oh, my child.
I broke down in his arms.
I told him everything.
Vasectomy without supervision.
The twelve weeks.
