Chapter 1: The Belt Above Her Doll
The belt hung over her like a shadow. Sophia had her arms crossed tight over her chest and her doll pressed against her, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in that silent cry kids get when they can't get enough air. The red mark on her left upper arm stood out against the lavender ruffle of her dress. Above her, the brown leather caught the daylight from the window, stitched and stiff, held high in a hand I knew.
Teresa's hand. Pearl bracelet at her wrist. The belt vertical, waiting. The balloons by the window didn't move. The cake was already on the floor.
My name is Veronica and I was kneeling on the rug beside our open suitcase that afternoon.
It was Sophia's birthday. Bright daylight filled the living room, the cream walls and white trim, the hardwood and the light rug. I had packed the black rolling suitcase with white and pink and navy clothes, folded neatly, because I didn't know what else to do with my hands. The small white frosted cake with blue decorations sat smashed on its purple base a foot from my knee. I could smell the sugar and the frosting where it had hit the floor.
Teresa's voice came first, flat and sure. "He's a boy. Give him the doll."
Sophia didn't move. She clutched the blonde doll in the matching lavender dress harder. My son stood just behind me in his navy t-shirt and khaki pants, too quiet.
I looked up from the floor. My throat was dry. I said it before I thought about what would happen next.
"Put the belt down. No!"
My voice cracked on the second word. I stayed barefoot on the rug, my black long-sleeve top sticking to my back, my knees pressed into the floor. I could hear my own breathing.
Teresa didn't lower the belt right away. Her burgundy dress didn't wrinkle. Her pearl necklace caught the light. Then Diego stepped forward between us, in his dark suit and white shirt and light gray tie, his hair neatly styled like he had come straight from work to a party. He pointed at me, finger straight, jaw tight.
"Veronica, apologize to my mother."
He didn't look at Sophia. He didn't look at the belt. He looked at me like I was the one who had done something.
Teresa brought the belt down low then, holding it at her side, but she didn't let go. The leather hung against her dress. I could see her knuckles around it.
The room went still except for Sophia's crying. My son pressed closer to my side and I felt his small hand on my shoulder. For a second I thought Diego would say something else, explain it, tell his mother to leave. He didn't.
My phone was on the rug beside the suitcase where I'd dropped it when I knelt. I reached for it without standing, my hands shaking so badly I almost couldn't get the case open. I needed something to do that wasn't staring at that belt. I needed to check the time, to call my sister, anything. The screen lit up black case, bright app.
Memo Savings.
I had opened it that morning to move money for Sophia's present. I scrolled now without thinking, thumb sliding. Balances and entries blurred, then sharpened. I stared at the number at the top. It didn't make sense so I scrolled again, slowly, waiting for it to change.
Zero. The balance was zero.
My mouth opened and I heard the pause before my own voice came out, small and flat.
"Diego, why is our savings account empty?"
I held the phone up toward him. My arm was straight, shaking. The light from the window hit the screen.
May you like
Diego froze mid-step, his pointing hand still half raised. His face went from angry to shocked, completely still. Teresa looked down at the phone and then at Diego, her mouth pressed tight, the belt still in her hand but forgotten for a second. Sophia stood with her doll against my knee, tears on her cheeks, and my son didn't move from my side. The open suitcase stayed open between us, the smashed cake on its purple base, the balloons in the corner unmoving.
No one answered.
