I walk out and down the stairs, crossing the room to the dining room entrance.
Miguel is sitting in his usual spot, reading the paper. I suddenly feel awkward and a little less confident about my negotiating skills.
I sit in my chair and smile at the maid, who sets down some boiled eggs on the table. I start to crack one, glancing at Miguel periodically.
He shakes his paper and closes it before looking at me. “Are you going to keep staring at me or say something?”
“I don’t know what to say,” I admit, blushing slightly. I take a bite of an egg but continue to look at him.
“Good morning, for starters.”
There’s a trace of a smile on his mouth, and I return it. “Good morning, Miguel.”
“Good morning, Kira. Now, I think it’s in both of our interests to discuss the current situation and what it means for us.”
“For us?” I ask curiously.
“Yes, because there are two parents to every child, generally.” He starts on his own egg, and I don’t respond. This is what I feared.
“See, I want to be a part of my son’s life….”
I cut him off. “What’s his name?” I ask.
“Sorry?” Miguel raises an eyebrow.
“You want to be a part of a child’s life that you don’t even know the name of,” I say. “Don’t you think that’s a little crazy?”
“I realize I didn’t ask for his name, but you can imagine that I was in a bit of shock. I intend to get all his details from you.”
I shake my head. “No. I told Raphael that he could get to know you when he was sixteen and that it would be his choice if it happened or not. I wasn’t going to force a relationship.”
“Is this you talking or your father?” he challenges me, “because the Kira I knew would have had no problem with me having a relationship with my child whose name I love, by the way. Ironic that my ninja-loving son is named after a mutant turtle.”
“This isn’t a joke, Miguel. The girl you knew was naive. I have raised him, and I know what’s best for him,” I say, trying not to get angry.
“Kira,” I can see he’s also trying to reel himself in, “this isn’t a request. He is my child. I have a right to see him.”
I stand up. “Miguel, you are not seeing my child.”
“Sit down,” he commands.
I slowly sit down, but I glare at him as he continues, “If you don’t come to an agreement with me so that I can see my child, then Kira, my negotiation with Alessandro will simply be a trade. You for Raphael, and you can see him in twelve years after I’ve kept him from you.”
“I didn’t do it intentionally,” I retort.
“You are now. You are denying me my right to have a part to play in Raphael’s life, and I will have what I want.”
It’s a reflex, really. I grab the egg cup and hurl it at him. It crashes behind him, and before he can say anything, I toss a glass at him. He moves out of the way quickly.
“Stop acting like a child,” he yells.
“Like you?” I shout, throwing a plate at him. I work my way through everything close to me, but in my rage, I don’t notice that he’s getting closer to me. When I turn around to grab something else, he grabs my wrists and holds them so tightly it hurts.
“Stop it,” he growls, “you’re being ridiculous.”
“I have spent a lifetime protecting him, and I will die for him.’’
“You once promised to die for me,” he says quietly. “Remember that promise? You promised you loved me and that we would build a life together for the rest of our lives. Why do you get to pick and choose what you’re going to follow through with.”