Big Chicas Don't Cry(71)

Regret darkened his eyes as he reached for the phone to answer. “This is Esteban Delgado . . .” His voice trailed off as he moved into the foyer.

With heavy steps, I made my way upstairs and into our bedroom. I didn’t need to hear the rest of his conversation to know what was coming next. The apology because he had to leave. The promise he would make it up to me later. The defensiveness if I told him he didn’t have to.

And then he’d leave anyway. Both of us mad at how the other had reacted. It was a never-ending cycle of blame and frustration.

I didn’t have it in me to go through it again.

When he came home later, he found me sitting on the bed in the dark.

“I won,” he said and flipped the light switch.

“Good for you,” I said back.

He bristled at my words but didn’t walk toward me. Instead, he loosened his tie. “I’m sorry I had to leave. But I’m here now.”

And that’s when it hit me. If things were good between us, I should’ve been glad he was home. But I wasn’t. How sad was it that tonight of all nights I didn’t even want to be around him?

When I didn’t say anything, he started moving toward me.

“Stop,” I said.

“What?”

“I want you to stop walking. I want you to stand right there and not talk either.”

“Cari?o, what are—”

“I said be quiet!”

My outburst surprised us both. It silenced him at least. I knew his words couldn’t fix what was wrong in this house. And my words wouldn’t bring back my welita.

Still, some words needed to be said. And I knew it was time to finally make him listen.

“Esteban, we’re broken. We need help.”

He opened his mouth, and I held up my hand. “I’m not happy. I haven’t been for a long time. I almost left you tonight. I packed a suitcase and was writing you a note. Then I realized that wouldn’t be fair to you. So, I threw away the note, unpacked, and waited for you to come home so we could finally have the conversation we’ve been avoiding for months. So, tell me now. Do you want to save this marriage?”

“What do you mean ‘save’?” he accused. “We are fine.”

“No. No, we’re not.”

“You’re just sad right now. And that’s okay. In a few days, everything will be back to the way it used to be.”

I shook my head. “What if I don’t want everything to go back to how it was before? I need . . .”

Esteban threw his hands up in the air. “What could you possibly need, Marisol? I’ve given you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

“I’m not talking about material things. I need something that is just mine. I need a purpose.”

“That’s what a baby is for. I’ve been telling you that.”

“I don’t want a baby!”

He looked as though I’d slapped him. Guilt shamed me, and I tried to fix it. “I meant not right now.”

I wasn’t sure if he believed me. At least, he didn’t press the issue. “So, now what?”

“I think we should go to counseling,” I said.

He dragged his hand down his face in frustration. “?Madre de Dios! I can’t believe this. I just won a huge trial that’s going to put my firm on the news for the next few days, and instead of celebrating, my wife wants me to see a goddamn shrink!”

I flinched at his tirade. But I wasn’t going to back down. “We need this, Esteban. I need this.”

“And if I don’t agree?”

How could I answer his question when I wasn’t ready to face the answer myself? Instead, I shrugged. “Then I don’t know.”

Esteban cursed in Spanish and then told me he was going out to clear his head and think about things. It was almost three in the morning when I finally got a text.

It was Chris.

Esteban showed up at my house drunk as a skunk. He’s sleeping it off on my couch. He won’t tell me what happened. Are you ok?

I texted back:

I’m fine. Thanks for taking care of him.

It was too late, or too early, to deal with Chris—or Esteban for that matter. My welita was gone. At that moment, it was all I could care about.

So, I turned off my phone, turned on my side, and cried into my pillow.





Chapter Forty-One


GRACIE


When I was a little girl, our mother took Selena and me to the circus.

I’d hated it, and we’d had to leave after fifteen minutes. “Cried the whole time,” she told my grandparents and Welita when we’d gotten back. It was like she couldn’t believe that a child could hate the circus.

To help calm me down, Welita warmed up some milk and poured it in a mug. Then she told me in her broken Spanglish that she didn’t like the circus either.

It was her way of letting me know that I wasn’t alone.

And although the logical part of my brain knew I wasn’t alone now, it didn’t register in my heart. So when Selena mentioned that she was going to go home to LA and then come back in the morning, I begged her to stay the night again.

“I don’t have any clothes. Plus I need to stop by my office to pick up some files so I can do a little bit of work remotely. Don’t worry, Gracie. I’ll see you tomorrow.”