Chapter 2: Put The Phone Down
The question stayed in the air longer than I expected it to.
I held the phone up and my hand didn't shake. That surprised me. Diego stared at the screen and then at me, his mouth slightly open. The banking app was still lit up, the pale blue and white of Memo Savings showing that flat zero where our balance should have been. Next to him, Teresa hadn't moved. The brown leather belt hung at her side now, not raised, but her fingers were still locked around it. The pearl bracelet on her wrist caught the daylight from the window.
Sophia pressed her face into my side. Her lavender dress was wrinkled where she'd been clutching it, and the blonde doll was still crushed against her chest. My son's hand found the back of my black top and held on.
Nobody answered me.
Diego blinked first. He took a small step back, like the phone was something he didn't want to touch.
"It's just a transfer," he said. His voice was too quick. "It's pending. Put the phone down."
He said it like it was an instruction, not an answer. Put the phone down. His gray tie had shifted a little to one side and he reached up and straightened it, fingers tight on the knot. He didn't look at the screen again.
Teresa lowered the belt another inch but she didn't let go. The leather made a soft creak as her grip shifted.
"She needed discipline," Teresa said. She looked at Sophia, not at me. "Crying over a doll. And I told her, he's a boy. Give him the doll. That's how children learn."
Her tone was calm, as if she were explaining something obvious. She adjusted the belt in her hand, folding it once, keeping it vertical against her burgundy dress. She didn't put it down.
I pulled Sophia closer with my left arm and reached for my son with my right. He stepped in without me having to ask, his navy shirt warm from being near the balloons. Sophia's breathing was still uneven, little hitched breaths against my shoulder.
"I'm not going to apologize," I said. I kept my voice low because the kids were right there. "Don't tell me to apologize to her."
Diego's jaw tightened. He glanced at Teresa and then back at me. For a second I thought he was going to step forward and point again the way he had before, but he didn't. He slid his phone out of his suit pocket instead. The screen lit up as he thumbed it, as if he'd felt it vibrate, though I hadn't heard anything.
Teresa looked at the suitcase. It was still open on the light rug, the folded white and pink and navy clothes visible inside. The smashed white cake on its purple base sat a few inches away, the blue frosting smeared where someone had stepped too close.
"You were going to make a scene at her own birthday," Teresa said to me. She said it quietly, almost under her breath. "Packing in front of the children. Over nothing."
She didn't move toward the suitcase. She didn't need to. The way she stood between me and the hallway made it clear she wasn't leaving the room without being told she was right.
I let go of the kids just enough to lean forward and pull the lid of the black rolling suitcase closed. I didn't zip it. The zipper pull clicked against the plastic edge and stayed there, undone. The clothes inside were still half-folded, Sophia's little lavender dress for tomorrow on top. Closing it without zipping it felt like the only thing I could do that wasn't backing down and wasn't running before I understood what I'd seen on that screen.
Diego lifted his phone to his ear. "I have to take this," he said, already turning toward the hallway. He didn't say who it was. He walked away from the living room without looking back at me or the kids, his dress shoes quiet on the hardwood. The light from the window cut across his back as he went.
Teresa watched him go, then looked down at me one more time. She gave the belt a small, practiced flick, not a threat exactly, just a reminder that she still held it.
"I'll be in the kitchen," she said. She turned and carried the belt with her, her pearl necklace shifting as she moved. The belt stayed in her hand the whole way. She didn't hang it up or set it down on the sofa.
I heard the kitchen doorway creak and then the soft sound of her moving around in there.
May you like
I stayed kneeling on the rug. Sophia slid down to sit beside me, her doll finally held out in front of her instead of crushed to her chest. My son sat on his knees on the other side of the suitcase, his hand still on my arm. The pastel balloons by the window moved a little in the draft.
My phone was still awake in my hand. Memo Savings was still open, the empty balance still there, the transaction list blurred under my thumb. I didn't put it down.
