24.
AURORA VALEN?A
Dante’s declaration changed the direction of the press.
It did not end the attention.
But it changed it.
Some outlets began investigating Otávio.
Others searched for Miguel.
A television station requested an interview with me.
I refused.
Another offered money for photographs of the triplets.
I blocked the number.
The town, however, appeared to have chosen a side.
Mine.
Mrs. Marlene brought cake.
The priest from the church came to say he had always believed me.
A lie.
He had looked away as I left the altar.
I accepted the apology without softening the memory.
The children did not understand.
Elisa thought it was entertaining that people brought food.
Tomás asked whether being famous meant receiving a bicycle.
Cecília did not like strangers knocking at the door.
Dante kept the security guards on the street.
That time, he asked permission to continue.
I accepted for one week.
Late Thursday afternoon, I received a call from the Museum of Sacred Art in Belo Horizonte.
One of their restorers had become ill.
They needed someone to supervise the removal of a piece that evening.
It was important work.
Well paid.
And, more than that, the kind of job I would have accepted before everything.
“How long?” I asked.
“The removal begins at eight. It should finish around midnight.”
I looked at the children.
They were playing in the backyard.
Mrs. Lurdes had a medical appointment in another town.
I could refuse.
I had done so many times.
“May I confirm in half an hour?”
“Of course.”
I ended the call.
Dante was due at five to stay for two hours.
I had not intended to tell him.
But he noticed as soon as he entered.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“You are organizing brushes that were already organized.”
I looked at the table.
“I received a work offer.”
“A good one?”
“Yes.”
“Then why do you look irritated?”
“It is tonight.”
“How long?”
“Until midnight.”
“Accept it.”
His immediate answer irritated me.
“Do not decide for me.”
“I did not. I gave my opinion.”
“I have three children.”
“I’ll stay.”
The air stopped.
“No.”
“Why?”
“You have never been alone with all three for that many hours.”
“I have collected them, fed them, and taken them to the bathroom.”
“You lost a shoe.”
“That happened once.”
“You slapped Elisa’s hand.”
Pain crossed his face.
“Yes.”
I regretted using it.
Not because it was untrue.
Because he never pretended it had not happened.
“I cannot leave them at night,” I said.
“You can leave me with them for two hours, but not four?”
“Nighttime routine is different.”
“Then explain it.”
“It isn’t a list.”
“Part of it is.”
“Bath, dinner, medication, brushing teeth, stories.”
“I can do that.”
“And if all three cry?”
“I’ll endure it.”
“If Tomás has a reaction?”
“Where is the pen?”
“In the kitchen drawer.”
“And one inside the backpack.”
“Yes.”
“I know how to use it.”
The memory tightened my chest.
“Cecília may have a nightmare.”
“I’ll stay with her.”
“Elisa invents excuses not to sleep.”
“I won’t negotiate beyond the agreement.”
“You think this is simple.”
“No. I think it is possible.”
I crossed my arms.
“And your work?”
“I’ll reschedule.”
“I do not want you reshaping your entire life for every need we have.”
“This is not a small need.”
“It is my work.”
“Exactly.”
The word stopped me.
“You said you no longer know what you would do apart from caring for them and working. Now something has appeared that you want.”
“I did not say I want it.”
“Your eyes changed when you spoke about it.”
“Do not analyze me.”
“All right.”
Dante breathed.
“Accept because you want to. Not because of me.”
“And if I don’t trust you?”
“Then refuse.”
No pressure.
No accusation.
That made the decision mine.
I hated it.
“I want to speak to the psychologist treating you.”
He appeared surprised.
“Why?”
“To know whether she thinks you are prepared.”
“She does not evaluate me as a father for you.”
“Then she is useless.”
“You may speak to me.”
“You are not impartial.”
“Speak to Marta. The pediatrician. Mrs. Lurdes.”
“She would already choose your side.”
“Probably.”
A smile almost appeared.
I prevented it.
“I want a trial first.”
“How?”
“You handle the routine today. I stay in the studio without interfering.”
“And if you need me?”
“I only call if there is danger.”
“All right.”
“It begins now.”
Dante looked at the children.
“What comes first?”
“Snack.”
“All right.”
I went into the studio.
I left the door partially open.
Dante noticed.
He did not comment.
I heard everything.
“Fruit or bread?” he asked.
“Chocolate,” Tomás answered.
“That is not an option.”
“Then don’t want.”
“Fruit or bread.”
“Cookie,” Elisa said.
“Not that either.”
“You say no a lot.”
“Inherited from your mother.”
“I heard that,” I shouted.
The children laughed.
Dante prepared bananas and bread.
Cecília wanted the bread cut into squares.
Elisa wanted triangles.
Tomás refused every shape.
Then demanded the whole slice Dante had already cut.
“I can put the pieces together,” he suggested.
“Not whole.”
“You’re right.”
“Want another.”
Dante looked at the package.
“You may eat the cut pieces or choose a banana.”
Tomás began screaming.
I stood.
Stopped.
There was no danger.
I sat again.
“Want whole!”
“I know.”
“You cut it!”
“I did.”
“Mean!”
“You’re allowed to be angry.”
“Don’t like you.”
Silence.
My body went alert.
“That’s all right,” Dante answered. “I still like you.”
The sentence broke an old rule.
I had prohibited him from saying he loved them before he knew them.
Now he knew them a little.
And he had said like.
I did not correct him.
Tomás cried.
Then ate the bread squares.
During bath time, all three attempted to enter together.
Dante allowed it.
A mistake.
Within two minutes, the floor was covered in water.
Elisa threw foam at Tomás.
Cecília cried because her hair became wet.
“One at a time,” Dante decided.
Too late.
I heard him attempting to remove Tomás while Elisa escaped without a towel.
She ran into the studio.
“I’m naked!”
I closed my eyes.
“Go back to the bathroom.”
“Don’t want.”
Dante appeared with a towel.
“Elisa.”
“You don’t catch me.”
“Then put on the towel yourself.”
She wrapped it incorrectly.
Tripped.
Dante caught her before she fell.
“Almost.”
“I know.”
“Mommy does better.”
“Much.”
He did not attempt to compete.
After the bath, there was an argument over pajamas.
Tomás wanted the dinosaur pair, which was dirty.
Cecília could not find her cloth.
Elisa decided she would not brush her teeth because she had “already done it yesterday.”
Dante remained calm.
Not perfect.
Calm.
When the cloth failed to appear, Cecília began truly crying.
I knew where it was.
Inside the laundry basket.
I wanted to shout.
I did not.
Dante searched the places he had learned.
Beneath the bed.
Behind the curtain.
Inside the tent.
The closets.
“Where did you use it last?” he asked.
Cecília was crying too hard to answer.
“Mommy knows.”
“Your mother is working.”
“Want her.”
“Let’s search together.”
“Don’t want!”
The intensity grew.
Dante knelt.
“May I pick you up?”
Cecília opened her arms.
He held her.
“You’re sad because you lost your cloth.”
“It disappeared.”
“We are going to find it.”
“Now.”
“We are searching.”
Tomás appeared carrying the fabric.
“Was in clothes.”
Cecília snatched it from his hand.
“Mine!”
“I found.”
“You hid it!”
“Didn’t.”
The fight began.
Dante separated them.
“Tomás found it. Cecília was frightened. No one shouts.”
“She shouted,” Tomás complained.
“Because she was scared.”
“I can too.”
“You can be scared. You do not need to shout now.”
The answer was not perfect.
But it worked.
At story time, all three selected different books.
Dante established two.
Elisa attempted to negotiate three.
He kept it at two.
Tomás interrupted.
Cecília requested that one page be repeated.
Then they all lay down.
I sat in the studio unable to work.
Silence.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Then I heard footsteps.
Elisa appeared.
“Want water.”
Dante followed.
“You drank already.”
“Thirsty again.”
“One sip.”
She drank.
Returned.
Then Tomás appeared.
“There’s monster.”
“Where?”
“Room.”
“Let’s check.”
Cecília appeared behind him.
“Don’t leave me.”
“No one left you,” Dante said.
All three returned.
Another ten minutes.
Silence.
Dante entered the studio.
Wet hair.
Shirt stained with toothpaste.
Exhaustion on his face.
“They’re asleep.”
“Are you certain?”
“No.”
A laugh escaped me.
“Then?”
“I think they’re asleep.”
“And you?”
“I survived.”
“Did you lose a child?”
“No.”
“Did you hit anyone?”
He became serious.
“No.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You do not need to erase what happened in order to recognize what has changed.”
The answer struck me.
“You did well,” I said.
“I made many mistakes.”
“None serious.”
“I bathed all three together.”
“Never do that again.”
“I’ve already learned.”
“You cut the bread incorrectly.”
“I did not know there was an incorrect shape.”
“There always is.”
Dante smiled.
“Will you accept the job?”
I looked at the telephone.
The deadline was almost over.
“I still don’t know.”
“What is missing?”
“Courage.”
“To leave the children with me?”
“To leave.”
The truth appeared.
I had never spent an evening away.
I had never done anything that was not strictly necessary.
Motherhood with three infants had left no space.
Then habit became identity.
“They will be all right,” Dante said.
“You don’t know that.”
“No. But I will do everything I have learned. If something happens, I call.”
“And if I don’t answer?”
“I call the pediatrician, Marta, Mrs. Lurdes, or emergency services.”
“Cecília may ask for me.”
“I’ll say you return after she sleeps.”
“Tomás may wake.”
“I’ll stay with him.”
“Elisa…”
“Will attempt to convince me to give her chocolate.”
“Probably.”
“I will say no.”
I breathed.
“Do not put anyone to sleep in my bed.”
“All right.”
“The epinephrine pen…”
“Kitchen drawer. Second backpack. Check expiration date.”
“Cecília’s medicine if she coughs…”
“Only with instructions. Do not administer it on my own.”
“Doors locked.”
“Windows too.”
“Do not answer anyone.”
“All right.”
“Do not take them to your house.”
“We will not leave.”
“And…”
Dante took one step closer.
“Aurora.”
I stopped.
“Go to work.”
The sentence sounded like permission.
Not from him.
From myself.
I called.
I accepted.
When I left at seven, the children were eating dinner.
Elisa asked why I wore pretty clothes.
“I’m going to work at a museum.”
“You come back?”
“After you’re asleep.”
Cecília began crying.
I crouched.
“I will come back.”
“Don’t go.”
“I have to.”
“Daddy stays?”
“He does.”
She looked at Dante.
“You don’t sleep?”
“Only after your mother returns.”
“Stay awake?”
“I will.”
“Promise?”
Dante looked at me.
That time, he could.
“I promise to stay awake until your mother comes home.”
Concrete.
Possible.
Cecília accepted.
I embraced all three.
At the door, Dante spoke quietly.
“Drive carefully.”
“Do not tell me that.”
“All right.”
“And send me a message when they sleep.”
“I will.”
I left.
Inside the car, I cried before starting the engine.
Not only from fear.
From freedom.
Four hours.
That was all.
Even so, it felt like reclaiming part of myself I had believed lost.
And Dante was making it possible.