The bang that came from the kitchen wasn’t loud.
It was worse.
It was that dry, clumsy sound of something falling when the body can no longer take it anymore.
Lucia.
I don’t remember crossing the room.
One second I was in front of my mother.
The next thing I knew, I was walking into the kitchen with my heart pounding in my chest.
Lucía was on her knees, holding onto the edge of the sink with one hand and her belly with the other.
There was a broken plate on the floor.
And a trickle of water kept running, as if the whole house was mocking us.
“Lucía!” I shouted, kneeling beside her.
Her face was pale.
Too pale.
He was breathing rapidly, his lips trembling.
When he tried to speak, he could barely manage a whisper.
—No… I don’t feel well…
Then I saw the stain.
Small.
Dark.
Under her dress.
I felt like the world was collapsing at my feet.
“Mom, get a towel. Now!” I yelled.
My sisters appeared at the kitchen door, but none of them moved at first.
They stared at her as if they couldn’t quite grasp that this was no longer a domestic scene.
It was an emergency.
My mother was the first to react.
He didn’t speak.
He didn’t argue.
He just ran for the towel.
I carried Lucia as best I could.
She clung to my neck with a strength I had never known her to have.
And then he whispered something in my ear that broke my heart.
—Forgive me… I didn’t mean to ruin the night…
Even today I don’t know what hurt me more.
If you see it like that.
Or discovering that after everything she had endured… she still thought she should apologize.
I took her to the truck without waiting for help from anyone.
My mother was following behind with Lucia’s bag.
My sisters froze in the doorway.
