He hadn’t let me display any of it at our old house. Forbidden me to talk about it in ‘company’ as if we were the type of people to have ‘company’. That was his father, he threw the fancy dinner parties, benefits, galas. And I had to attend all of those in pre-approved outfits with conversation plans.
Small talk that did not involve auras.
Needless to say, the small house that we’d been living in for the past three years was full of crystals, dream catchers, astronomy charts, incense, books on the art of divination.
I didn’t believe in magic, exactly, but I believed in auras, energies. I believed I was sensitive to some. Obtuse or blind to others, of course, otherwise I never would have married Robert.
But this man in front of me. I wasn’t blind to him. I was blinded by him. Darkness, menace seemed to cover me just by proximity.
I stepped back slightly out of instinct. His eyes followed my retreat blankly then went back up to where the bruise on my face masked a lot of my features. I might have imagined the small change into a glint that wasn’t just blank.
“No,” I said, my voice a rasp. I cleared my throat. “My husband did it.” I paused, thinking of the way the officer at the precinct told me that we were still married, legally. He still had rights as a husband and a father. “Ex-husband,” I corrected. I didn’t give a shit what the law said.
He had no rights.
He had no rights to come to our home, the shabby, but safe and cozy place I’d created for my son and I. The home that I’d made after leaving Robert with nothing but a small bag for me and Nathan and two hundred and fifty dollars in a secret checking account. I drove us as far away as I could, to the other side of the country, to be exact. I’d had to sell the fancy car I’d driven away with, and because the title wasn’t in my name, I had to sell it at a less than reputable establishment for significantly less than what it was worth.
But it didn’t matter.
It was enough to get me and Nathan the rest of the way to California, set us up in a house in a little town just outside LA.
I didn’t have family to support me.
No friends.
I was alone.
And terrified.
But I’d made it.
For the first year, I’d lain awake at night, clutching my sleeping baby, staring at a watermarked ceiling, body taut, waiting for the sound. Waiting for the bang on the door, or the breaking of a window to signify that Robert had found us.
But he never did.
I didn’t wonder if it was because he just didn’t care to look or he was a really shitty detective.
The specifics of it all hadn’t mattered. All that had mattered was that we were free. My son was safe. I was fed. I got a job at a café, found a decent daycare, made ends meet, barely, but I did it.
And last night, when I wasn’t expecting it, when I was at home cleaning, happy, enjoying rare free time while Nathan was at a playdate, he came.
As if he sensed that happiness.
That peace.
And he tore right through it.
I answered the door smiling because I thought it was Marie bringing Nathan home early.
“The spawn set something on fire or steal nuclear codes?” I joked, opening the door. My five-year-old was well mannered but not exactly well behaved. He liked mischief.
And he got away with all of it. Because he was cute. And I wasn’t just saying that because he was my kid and I was supposed to think he was cute. He’d gotten the magical mix of Robert and me. A slight olive skin tone from my Cuban roots, but not as deep as mine because Robert didn’t have ‘ethnic’—his word—ancestry like I did. Just good old colonists. Nathan had midnight black hair, like mine, with a slight wave. He had piercing green eyes like his father, the thing that attracted me to him in the first place. Somehow looking into them, I never saw Robert. All I saw was Nathan. Because there was something about that kid. He was a fully realized human. Since he was born, he had a fullness to his eyes, a personality to them that transfixed you.
He was so unique for a five-year-old, so full of personality, charisma. People gravitated toward him, he was magnetic.
My little boy was special. Precious. The one thing I was indebted to his father for giving him to me. The father who I’d finally gotten comfortable with knowing I’d never see him again.
And now he was here.
On the doorstep of my little two-bedroom ranch in a working-class neighborhood outside LA.
I was so shocked, the smile stayed on my face. My heart paused in my chest. My breath caught.