I experience a moment of pure joy at the thought of seeing my little boy that’s quickly followed by the dread of having to see his father. After washing my hands, I ask Dee to keep an eye on the moro for me and go out through the garage to greet my son.
He’s doing a lot better than he was, but he’s still got a long way to go in his recovery from brain surgery to remove a cancerous tumor. Thankfully, Jason got it all, and he recommended a course of radiation that’s now completed. But the damage to his fine motor skills, another English term that has become familiar to me, was significant, thus the ongoing physical and occupational therapy.
Nico pulls up in his father’s truck as I emerge from the garage into bright South Florida sunshine. Marlene sent him to pick up the keg from a nearby liquor store. He approaches Joaquín’s old red sedan, which is parked in the driveway. “I’ll take him,” he says to Joaquín.
I stand back and allow Nico to intervene on my behalf, not willing to admit what a relief it is to have him deal with Joaquín so I don’t have to.
“I need to speak to my wife,” Joaquín says in Spanish as he tightens his hold on Mateo.
“She’s not your wife any longer,” Nico reminds him, also in Spanish, as he reaches for my son.
“Back off, dude.”
I step forward before the two of them get physical. I wouldn’t put it past either of them. “It’s okay, Nico. I’ve got this.”
Glaring at Joaquín, Nico takes a step back but stays nearby. Just in case.
I take Mateo from Joaquín and hold him close. He smells like cigarette smoke, which enrages me. How can Joaquín
smoke around him—or allow anyone else to—after what he’s been through? “What do you need?”
“I want you to come home for Christmas,” he says in Spanish. “Where you belong.”
“I’m sorry, that’s not possible,” I reply in English.
His scowl turns a face I once found handsome ugly. “You’re so fancy now, you can’t even speak your own language?”
“I’ll see you on the twenty-seventh.” I turn away from him to carry Mateo inside. He’s looking forward to swimming in Marlene’s pool before the party begins later this afternoon.
“Don’t take another step,” Nico says to Joaquín.
I continue on as if I didn’t hear that. I trust Nico to make sure Joaquín doesn’t follow us inside. But the minute I’m safely in the house, I rush to the front window to look out to make sure the situation isn’t escalating. Mateo snuggles into my embrace, seeming relieved, as he always is, to be back with me. I cringe to think about what goes on when he’s alone with Joaquín, but the court requires one overnight a week with his father.
The two men are exchanging words, but that’s all it is.
After Joaquín makes an obscene gesture at him, Nico walks away, his fists rolled tightly by his sides. My heart races at the sight of him, angry on my behalf. Why does that mean so much to me? Maybe it’s because for years no one was ever angry on my behalf while Joaquín was bullying me into doing everything his way.
Nico comes to find me in Marlene’s dining room where the huge table is covered with serving dishes and other party items.
“Gracias,” I say to him. “Lo siento.” When I’m upset, I revert to my native language.
“Don’t thank me or apologize to me,” he says in a harsh tone that’s not directed at me.
How do I know that? I couldn’t say other than he has never been anything other than sweet to me, but Joaquín can make the sweetest person angry in a matter of seconds. I never saw that side of him until after we were married.
“I don’t like the way that guy acts as if you still belong to him.”
“He knows I don’t.”
Nico puts his hands on his hips, frustration apparent in his pose and expression. “Does he?”
“If he doesn’t, that’s not my fault. What else can I do besides file for divorce?”
“I hate the idea of you guys not being safe,” he says, softly so as not to alarm Mateo.
“We’re safe,” I say, but the waver in my voice tells the true story. I never feel truly safe except for when I’m at work, surrounded by people like him who care about me. And Nico doesn’t even work at Giordino’s. He’s just there a lot, especially when I’m working.
“I wish…” He stops himself and shakes his head.