Chapter 07
By the time I pull up in my parents’ driveway, I’ve managed to calm down. They already have so many reservations about this whole thing, I don’t want to give them more reasons to question my attachment to Lex.
I check myself in the rearview mirror once I’m parked, hoping no one will notice I’ve cried. Though it wouldn’t be too suspicious that I shed a few tears after visiting my boyfriend in jail.
After a deep breath, I grab my overnight bag from the passenger seat and step out of the car. My dad’s the one who opens the door for me. “Hey, peanut. You’re early.”
“Yeah, sorry, I—we had to shorten the visit.”
“I see. Your mom and Maria Carmen aren’t back yet.”
He gives me a tight but short hug and takes my bag for me. “Where are they?”
“They went out shopping. They’re making albondigas soup, your favorite.” He slaps a hand over his mouth. “Crap, I think it was supposed to be a surprise.”
“I won’t tell them,” I reassure him with a smile.
“Thank you. How was your visit with Alexander?”
Lying about why I’m here early and lying about what happened are two different things. I don’t want my parents to know how hard things are between us, but I can’t bring myself to gaslight them into believing everything’s good.
My dad senses my reluctance and, after putting my bag at the bottom of the stairs, he comes back to say, “You know, every parent’s dream is to see their children be happy. That’s all we really want. And your mother and I … we worry you’re making the wrong decisions here.”
“What do you mean?”
“We understand you love Alexander very much, and we saw how happy he made you. But he’s also put you through so much pain, it’s hard for us to ignore it.”
“What’s happening to him right now isn’t his fault, Dad.”
“But isn’t it, peanut? I remember the talk we had with Georges during the anniversary party. Alexander is Nammota, isn’t he?”
I open my mouth, ready to lie again, but something in my father’s expression tells me he wouldn’t believe me. He knows the truth, he’s pieced it together, and nothing I say can change his mind.
“When he broke your heart the first time, we let it go with your mom because that’s how young love works.
You’re trying to work around each other’s quirks, things get messy, fights happen …
It’s normal, even if it hurts. But now, all of this is happening, and we’ve never seen you this depressed.
” After a quick beat, he corrects himself with, “Actually, we have, and it was also because of him.”
I don’t even know what to say. From an outside perspective, Lex and I are a fucking mess, aren’t we?
Hell, from an inside perspective, too. It’s all ups and downs, and the highs are heaven, but the downs are actual hell.
If Kate were living through a similar story, I’d urge her to leave the guy and look for someone less complicated.
That’s why I don’t get angry at my dad or condemn his words. They come from a place of care and worry, and he isn’t completely wrong.
“Dad, I know this is a mess, but trust me when I say Lex deserves every ounce of devotion I have for him. I’m not letting him go, and I’m definitely not abandoning him when he needs me the most. I have to be here for him, just like he’d be there for me.”
“So, you’re sure you’re not making a mistake?”
“I’ve been asking myself that every single day for over a month now,” I truthfully answer.
“For about half a second every day, I wonder if this is what I want, if I shouldn’t move on.
But I immediately remember he’s the only man I’ll ever want to build a future with.
He’s my person, Dad. I have to be with him. ”
He looks contrite as he asks, “What will you do if he gets convicted? If he has to spend the rest of his life in prison?”
Well, Lex will cut me off, so I won’t really have a choice, will I? I ignore the pinch of pain in my heart to say, “How about we take things as they go? Let’s get all the way to the trial, and if that happens, you can ask me again.”
He shakes his head, defeated. “You really are as stubborn as your mom and abuela.”
“You knew what to expect when you married into the Ibanez family, gringo,” I remind him with a grin.
“Yeah, yeah …”
As if on cue, the other two Ibanez women arrive, arms full of grocery bags.
“Andrea, you’re here!” Mom exclaims with surprise as we come to help them.
“I had to leave sooner than planned.”
“How have you been, pollito? ?Por Dios, you’re skin and bone!”
“Let’s not exaggerate, Mother.”
“You are,” MC chimes in. “But your mamá and I will cook you something that’ll plump you right back up, nieta.”
As we walk to the kitchen, I hear my dad whisper to my mom, “We’ve had the talk.”
“And?”
“She’ll stay by his side, no matter what.”
I turn around to get a glimpse of my mother’s reaction, but they both notice and move apart, pretending nothing was happening. “Can you, uh, help me with something in the garden?” she asks him once everything’s on the counter.
Real smooth, Mom …
My father follows her through the back door, and I’m left with MC. “Don’t you maybe want to join them, so you three can talk about me and the poor decisions I’ve been making lately?” I suggest with cynicism.
“Nah, that’s their thing. I get why you’re doing what you’re doing, mija. And if you weren’t out there visiting that man every weekend, I would do it myself.”
“Of course you would,” I chuckle, incredulous.
“Come peel the carrots for me, will you?”
“What are we making?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“How does that work, with me helping you cook it?”
“You’re peeling the carrots and getting out, listilla.”
I can barely hold back my amusement as I take out the cutting board and peeler. Just as I settle next to her, though, a stabbing pain pierces through my lower stomach. I hunch over with a wince, pressing a hand over the spot that hurts. I’ve had a few of those lately, usually when I forget to eat.
“Are you alright, mija?” MC worriedly asks, resting a soothing palm on my shoulder.
“Yeah, it’s just—I’m fine.”
“Lady business?”
I shake my head, clenching my teeth. I rarely have crampy periods, so it probably isn’t that.
But this is particularly painful, so I try to remember when my period’s due.
Thinking through the ache, I struggle to remember where I’m at in my cycle.
With everything going on, the extra work at Kelex, visiting Lex …
I lost track of time. But last I can recall, I was on my period before Evora’s gala, when Lex and I weren’t having proper sex but were being creative instead.
But that was … two months ago. Almost to the day.
Petrified by the thought slowly forming in my head, I stare at the counter with wide eyes, the pain in my stomach the furthest thing from my mind.
“I have some ibuprofen in my bag, let me get it,” MC offers, worried by my lack of response.
“No, I—I need—”
“What do you need, nieta? Tell me.”
I turn to her, aware that I must look like a lunatic. I’m so stunned by shock that I don’t question if it’s a good idea to let her know. I can barely even form a coherent sentence.
“I think I need a pregnancy test,” I breathe out.
I’m pacing the length of my bedroom with a mix of anxiety and worry, trying to wrap my head around the fact that I might be pregnant.
MC made up an excuse about forgetting something for the soup and took the car for a quick errand.
This can’t be happening. It’s impossible. My IUD is good for at least another three years. But it wouldn’t be the first time a nearly perfect contraception failed, would it?
The harder I think about it, the more it makes sense. The mood swings, the crying, the nausea, the pain … I’ve put all of this on the messed-up situation, but what if those are symptoms? What if I’m hormonal because of pregnancy?
Flattening a hand over my stomach, right where a small life might be growing, I try to think through the consequences. Now is about the worst possible moment to have a child. My life is a mess, everything is crumbling around me, and I don’t even know if Lex will get out.
Fuck, Lex … What would he think of this? What would he want? How would he react?
We talked about hypothetical children. Even without the chaos we’re in, it’s too early. For fuck’s sake, we haven’t even been together for six months in total. I want kids. I want his kids. But not now. I’m not ready to be a mother. And yet, if Lex is convicted, we’ll never get another chance.
The thought is dangerous. It twists something sharp in my chest. A little creature, half Lex, half me, existing in the world beyond prison walls. Proof that he matters. That we matter. A future, even if everything else is taken from us.
I sink onto the bed, dizzy with it. This could be all I have left. I’d never see him again, but I’d recognize his features in our child. A boy. A mini-Lex with steel-gray eyes, dark hair, and a brilliant mind. A tiny genius who takes after his incredible father.
As manipulative as it is, I can’t help wondering if it would change things. If Lex would soften. If he’d let me visit, even just to watch his child grow. But is that fair?
What kind of life would that be for the child? For Lex only getting a couple of hours at a time? For me, dragging a kid through prison visits and whispered judgments? Week after week, year after year …
Reason tells me I can’t be pregnant. It would be wrong. So deeply wrong.
And still, my heart aches for it. To have Lex’s baby, now, when everything else threatens our love. It’s so selfish and cruel, but I can’t help it. If this is my only shot at having Lex’s child, I’ll take it.
Two quick knocks on my door have me jumping to my feet. “Yes?” I anxiously call out. The door opens, revealing MC. She quickly slips in and closes it behind her. “Did you get it?” I ask, rushing her.
“Yes, I got two brands, just in case.” She opens the brown paper bag, showing me the boxes of pregnancy tests.
“Do they know? Do my parents know?”
“No, I think they bought my excuse. But your mom wasn’t happy that I drove. I need to go help her with the albondigas before she gets suspicious. Unless you want me to be here with you.”
Although I could use her support, it’s imperative that my parents don’t realize what’s happening. I have too many cans of worms opened at the moment. I’m not adding that one to my list.
“No, thank you, Abuelita. I—I’ll let you know when I have the results,” I stammer.
As if she knows how much I need a hug, she puts the bag down on my dresser and wraps her frail arms around me to give me a tight, compassionate embrace. “Everything will be fine, mija,” she promises in Spanish.
“Thank you,” I answer, my throat tight with emotion.
I can’t be pregnant. But I long to be. My brain and my heart are fighting each other in a fierce battle that can only lead to disappointment.
“Can you—can you come check on me if I don’t come downstairs?” I sheepishly ask.
“Of course, mijita.”
MC gives me a long kiss on the cheek and lets go to exit my room as swiftly as she entered.
I stare at the paper bag, lacking the courage to pick it up and head to the bathroom.
This state of agonizing uncertainty is unbearable, but I’m terrified to find out.
There’s no winning here, only loss. The loss of my principles, of decency and good sense, or the loss of our hopes for a family, of the future Lex and I once spoke of.
With a heavy sigh, I pick up the bag and walk to the bathroom. As I open the boxes, I’m thrown back to the three other instances I’ve had to do it. This time, it’s different. I want two bars to appear, even though part of me wants only one. I crave both outcomes with equal desperation.
I force myself to stop overthinking, sit on the toilet, and pee on both sticks. I cap them, set them on the closed lid, flush, then slide down to the floor with my back against the tub. I count to one hundred and eighty—the required three minutes—and then keep counting.
This is a Schrodinger’s cat sort of situation. As long as I don’t look, everything is possible. I’m both pregnant and not. Our future exists, and it doesn’t. But once I look, I’ll have to grieve something.
When I reach eight hundred seconds, I know I can’t delay anymore.
I owe it to Lex.
I lean over to the toilet to grab the tests. Not looking at them, I hold them in my clenched fist, closing my eyes to gather some strength.
I’d give anything to have Lex by my side, telling me everything will be fine. I want to know he’s okay with whatever is on there, positive or negative. I want him to tell me we have time for this step of our journey, that we’ll raise this child together, that we’ll work on making another one …
But he isn’t here. He might never be here again, sitting on a bathroom floor with me, comforting me with his soothing presence.
God, how I want to have his baby … But not like this.
Summoning a fragile burst of courage, I open my hand and look. The answer is the same on both tests, clear and undeniable. One of the two outcomes I’ve been both dreading and hoping for.
Conflicted tears spill down my cheeks, grief and relief crashing together. It hurts to know, but I had to. For my sanity.
I didn’t think there were any tears left in me. But God, do I cry. For what could have been and what might never be. Through the haze of despair, a fragile hope still flickers. Lex could win the trial. He could get out. We could still build the family we wanted.
Soft knocks pull my gaze to the door. It opens just enough for MC’s face to appear. The moment she sees my drenched cheeks, she rushes in and drops to the floor, pulling me into her arms. I open my hand so she can see the results, and sadness creases her face.
“Oh, mi amorcito,” she murmurs, holding me tighter. “One day. One day.”
I don’t believe her. Not when it feels like the world is ending.
My hopes are as empty as my womb.
MC stays with me as I cry for the child that never existed, my arms wrapped around my stomach, protecting a life that was never there. Even with her beside me, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this alone. My body feels like it’s betrayed me, leaving me stranded in grief.
If we don’t win the trial, I’ll lose Lex forever. And I may have just lost the only leverage I could have had to stop it.
Maybe my father was right. Maybe this pain isn’t worth it.
But what’s the point of life without Lex?