28. Diana
I wake slowly, brain foggy from an intense week of work and studying—not to mention yesterday’s late night activities—rolling into a hard pillow that smells suspiciously like citrus.
I nuzzle into it, inhaling the comforting and familiar scent.
But when a pair of strong arms wraps around me, I realize it isn’t a pillow I’m nuzzling—it’s Michael.
My eyes fly open, because: “The girls!” I whisper-yell. “You need to leave before they see you here!”
He smiles down at me, his dimples visible beneath his scruff under the morning sun. “Hey, good morning.”
“Seriously, Michael.” I push against his chest, reluctantly freeing myself from his hold. “You need to go before they wake up.”
“We talked about this last night, remember? We’re gonna tell them today.”
“Yeah. At dinner. After their talent show thing. I don’t want them to find out by having you walk-of-shaming out of my bedroom first thing in the morning.
That’s not how we should be handling this.
” I don’t think. I’ve never been in this situation, obviously, but logic is telling me this isn’t the way.
Michael throws himself back onto the pillows, his eyes on the ceiling. “I know you’re right, I just would love to have breakfast here with everyone. Together. Like a real…” He swallows once, and I feel my stomach jump.
Whoa. Was he gonna say—
A loud banging comes from the guest house front door—the one we never use.
“Who the hell could that be?” I sit up and quickly put on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.
Michael follows my lead, dressing in the same clothes he came in last night. “Could it be Barbara?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Barbara won't be back for another week. She has a couple of more days of filming to do. It’s why she couldn’t make it to the opening.”
“Right.”
The speed and strength of the knocking grows insistent, and when I hear the voice that starts calling out for me, I go as still as a statue. A cold chill runs through my entire body as I realize the person huffing and puffing outside of the house is none other than my ex-husband.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask when I pull the door open and find myself faced with the man who abandoned my children. My skin simultaneously heats from rage and indignation while a current runs through me from fear and uncertainty of what this might do to the girls.
Rodrigo stands in the doorway, a smug smirk on his face that turns my stomach over. “What do you mean? I’m here to see my daughters.”
Something I've learned about Rodrigo since our divorce is that there has to be something in it for him in everything that he does—he doesn’t know the meaning of the word “selfless.” I'm not sure how I never saw that side of him—or if I did, how I was able to find the strength within me to suppress the realization.
Maybe I just had to in order to survive?
Maybe part of me thought that a quarter of a partner was better than no partner at all?
But now that I've had time and separation from him and our relationship, I can see that all he was doing was dragging me down emotionally.
“You’re here to see your daughters?” I ask, my voice flat.
“Well, that's hilarious, considering you have been absolutely MIA from their lives over the past couple of months. Or have you not received any of their letters or calls? We definitely haven’t heard from you once.” I cross my arms in front of my chest and glare at him, trying to scare him with my best evil eye.
In the back of my mind, however, I'm praying Michael doesn't feel the need to come out and meet my ex.
Rodrigo, at six-foot-four and a large build, looks down at his nails. “I saw their letters—how do you think I found you? I used the return address. I’ve just been super busy, so I haven’t been able to reply.”
“You’ve been too busy to even answer one fucking text?”
His neck snaps up to look at me, surprise in his eyes. I'm not one to curse often so he knows I’m close to boiling over. Honestly, if I were him, I'd go find cover before I erupt all over the place and burn him down.
“With the divorce and everything,” he starts, “I’ve been settling into my new home. You know how I rented that place downtown? Well, I've been doing this whole move alone so…"
“How sad for you,” I say sarcastically. “Well, I've been doing the whole parenting thing alone and let me tell you, I'm pretty sure that's a little bit more difficult than building IKEA furniture for a studio apartment.”
He scoffs. “God, why do you have to be so bitter? I’m sorry I found someone else. It just didn't work out between us.”
I practically choke, stutter through my words, not knowing where to even begin to reply to that statement. “It just didn't work out? That's all you have to say? It’s not even about that anymo— And you think that's the only reason I'm upset? I don't give a—”
“Hey,” Michael's voice comes up behind us. He wraps an arm around my waist, the look he gives Rodrigo filled with such resentment and protectiveness I wonder if it physically causes my ex any pain. “What’s going on here? Everything okay?”
“Ahhh,” Rodrigo says. “This is the new boyfriend, huh? I've heard about you.”
I narrow my eyes at my ex, heart dropping. “What do you mean you've heard about him? From who?” I ask, a bit horrified.
“Well, my dear, you might think that I haven't had time to read our daughters’ letters, but Camila sure had a lot to say about the man who sneaks out of my wife’s bedroom in the middle of the night. Even for a seven year-old, she sure has a way with words.”
I stop breathing, while Michael inhales sharply beside me. “First off, Cami is nine. And second, how did she even find out about us?”
“Shit,” Michael mutters. “I meant to tell you about that, but then you never mentioned it so I assumed she thought nothing of it and—”
“What are you talking about?” My eyes flash to him.
Rodrigo whistles and laughs once with an, “Ooh, trouble in paradise,” but I ignore him.
“Well,” Michael starts, scratching the back of his neck.
“That night of the storm, after we…” He glances nervously at Rodrigo before looking back at me.
“Well, when I went back out into the living room, I ran into Cami. But she was groggy and kind of out of it, and I swear to god I thought she didn’t suspect a thing. I was going to tell you, but…”
My jaw drops in disbelief. “How could you not tell me?”
Michael shakes his head, speechless.
“That’s highly inappropriate of you, Diana. I mean, have you no consideration for our daughters? You’re sleeping around with this man I haven’t even met while the girls are under the same roof?”
Shame crashes over me like a tidal wave, skin flushed in embarrassment and disappointment because, my god, what was I thinking?
As much as I hate to admit it, Rodrigo is right.
My actions were inappropriate and disrespectful, even if I thought the girls were in the dark.
And now to find out that Cami knew all along…
“Hey,” Michael’s sharp voice breaks through my shame spiral. “Don’t talk to her like that.”
I lean into Michael a bit, needing the support as my balance wavers. His arm tightens around me in response, but I quickly pull away once I hear the girls’ bedroom door open.
Rodrigo pushes between Michael and me, forcing himself into the house as if he owned the place. He calls out for our daughters while walking through the front hall and the living room, all the way to the kitchen.
“Papi?” Cami’s sleepy voice comes from inside.
I follow behind Rodrigo closely while I try to prepare myself for the storm that’s about to hit us. Not only did he decide to drop by without any warning after disappearing for the past three months, but now I need to address the whole Michael situation in a wholly different way than I’d planned.
When I reach the kitchen, I watch as Cami runs into her father’s open arms, closing her little eyes and fisting her hands behind his neck when he squats to hug her back.
My heart tears in two, because I can see the sadness in her face when he lets go much sooner than she’d hoped.
He looks over his shoulder at me, almost smug that his daughter would still want to spend time with him.
But when Emi comes out of her room, Rachel behind her, and makes no move to greet her father, there’s no sense of satisfaction that washes over me as the evidence of their hurt becomes apparent.
Because, while part of me feels validated that I was right, that I wasn’t exaggerating, and that Rodrigo’s behavior this summer has been unacceptable, an even bigger part just wants them to never know this kind of pain.
The kind where you learn to believe you’ll never be good enough, no matter what you do.
And in that moment, I realize why Cami did what she did.
Why she wrote her father about our relationship.
Maybe a part of her thought that this would be a misguided attempt at getting her parents back together, but I don’t think that’s necessarily true.
Cami has never once mentioned us to get back together throughout our entire separation, which is surprising.
So part of me wonders whether she told her father as a way to bait him into a reply, test whether he’d been reading their letters or not.
And the little genius did it.
“Hey, kid,” Rodrigo says to Emi. “You gonna say hi to me or what?”
But Emi doesn’t move, expression cautious.
Rachel runs over to her dad, who takes her hand and leads her aside, giving us space to deal with this incredibly awkward family reunion.
“Why don’t we go out for breakfast? I can take you guys out to a diner and get some waffles or pancakes? Load up on some syrup and whipped cream, huh? Your kid can come too, if you want,” Rodrigo tells Michael, who looks like he might actually growl.
“They can’t; they have to get to camp. Today is their summer talent show and the girls are doing a dance.
And you might think twice about giving Emi a plate of pancakes or waffles smothered in syrup and whipped cream.
I don’t know if you know this, but she has type 1 diabetes,” Michael says, narrowing his eyes at Rodrigo, his cheeks reddened in anger.
Rodrigo gets to his feet, all pretense of being a nice guy finally out the window. “Don’t talk to me about my kids. My kids’ lives are none of your fucking business.”
I gasp, getting in between Michael and Rodrigo as they quickly move toward each other.
“Maybe it technically isn’t, but it’s clear that I care more about them than you do.”
“Michael,” I say with a groan, because he doesn’t know he’s just awakened the beast. “I’m gonna need you to leave.”
He turns to look at me, hurt. “What? You’re asking me to leave?”
Rodrigo laughs, while all three girls look like they’re on the verge of tears, the expression on their faces begging for answers neither one of us can give yet.
“Girls,” I say, before continuing. These two are seconds from going nuclear, and it’s not something any of them should see. “Why don’t you get changed for camp? Rachel, you can still come with me, if your dad’s okay with it. You have your things, right?”
“Yes, Mrs. Castillo,” Rachel replies, voice soft and meek.
“Sweetie, I’ve told you to call me Diana a million times, now.
” I smile encouragingly. “Why don’t you three go back into the bedroom and get ready?
” I usher the girls into the room and shut the door behind them.
When I get back to the kitchen, Rodrigo and Michael seem to be in the middle of a testosterone-fueled staring contest, each one nearly shaking with rage or frustration.
“Michael,” I whisper, touching his shoulder gently, trying to get him to look at me. “Please. Please go, and I’ll see you later at the talent show.”
“You’re kicking me out?” he asks, eyes wide with shock.
I sigh and run my fingers through my hair. “There’s just… a lot we need to deal with as a family right now. And this fighting is not helping.”
His brows pull together as he looks from me to Rodrigo and back to me again. “I don’t want to leave you here alone with him,” he whispers, low enough only I can hear.
“I know,” I say, rubbing his bicep. “But I’m going to be fine.
And you need to change before today. You’re still wearing last night’s sweaty clothes.
” I try to throw him a smile, but even I can feel how weak it is.
“I’ll take Rachel to camp today, and we’ll see each other there for the performance just like we planned, okay? Nothing is going to change.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
With great reluctance and without another word, Michael exits through the kitchen door, leaving me alone with the actual smallest man who ever lived.