Furia(58)

“Leave her out of this.” Pablo sounded exhausted. When had he gotten home? “Mami, go to bed.”

I listened to my mother’s footsteps rush through the hallway, but I didn’t hear her go into her room. She must have been waiting, ready to jump back into the kitchen. I should have gone to comfort her, but I stayed in my bed like a coward. We’d been so happy with him gone.

“Just explain to me why she went to Santa Fe. Don’t you turn your back on me!”

I clung to my covers. Pablo was a man, but since he still lived at home, he had to take this. I strained to hear my brother’s answer.

“She just went to the game. Is it so hard to imagine that she wanted to see me play?”

“But why, Pablo? You already spend all the time you’re not playing with her. Do what you want with her! I don’t blame you if you’re constantly fu—”

“Stop talking about Marisol like that!” my brother snapped, but my father just laughed at him.

“So it’s true. You were just with her.”

Pablo didn’t answer. I imagined his anguished face, his tight fists, all the words stuck in his throat, choking him.

My dad continued, “She’ll leave you if you aren’t on the first team, if you don’t make enough money. You know that, right? Save your little meetings for after the games, or you won’t last another season. Do you want to end up working in the factory with me, like Luciano Durant?” If I listened carefully, I could find a hint of concern in my dad’s voice. “When she runs to Diego because you’re a nobody, don’t come crying to me.”

“?Basta!” Pablo yelled.

I threw my covers off and stood next to my closed door.

Stop, Pablo. Go to bed. Go to Marisol’s.

But Pablo remained in the kitchen.

“The news is all about him. Diego this, Diego that, and he wasn’t even playing!”

Pablo was crying now. The sound pierced me, and I unlocked the door, my breath ragged and painful.

Finally, my brother managed to say, “He’s the pride and joy of the city, me included.”

His voice was like ground glass in my ears.

“He’s a nobody! No family, no past. I’ve always been beside you, Pablo. Always!” My dad changed tactic and said softly, “Don’t throw this talent away, son. Think of your poor mother.” As if he ever thought of my poor mother. “You will break her heart. Control that girl. Put fútbol first. Don’t be the idiot I was, letting a woman ruin your life.”

“She’s pregnant,” Pablo said. “It’s done. Marisol’s pregnant.”

I hoped against all reason that my mom wasn’t listening to this.

“She finally got what she wanted!” my father yelled, making me shudder. “She’s only after you for the money. You’re an idiot, Pablo, just like I was an idiot when your mother ruined my life, tying me down with a baby. Why, why did God curse me with such useless children!” He huffed like a bull. “Mark my words, Pablo—Marisol won’t see a cent from your contract. Not one coin!”

Without thinking, I stormed into the hall. The despair on my mom’s pale face turned into horror when she saw me. “No, Camila. Go back to your room.”

She tried to pull me back, but I shrugged off her hands.

No more, Mami. No more.

“Pablo,” I said, my voice stronger than I felt. “Go. Go now. You don’t have to take this anymore.”

My dad laughed, but I was ready for him.

“And you? You talk about my brother being an idiot when you . . .” I couldn’t catch my breath. I was drowning. “How could you? How dare you?”

The ridicule died on his lips. He knew what I was talking about. He’d seen me at the kiosco, hiding behind my umbrella. He knew what he’d done. And he also must have known I wasn’t the weak girl he could manipulate and abuse anymore. I had things to tell. With a sneer, he walked past me as if I were a thing too insignificant for him to care about.

Instead, he towered over Pablo and in a dismissive voice said, “Go to your room, Pablo. We’ll speak more tomorrow. I can’t deal with your sister’s hysterics.” But my father was the one who headed to his room, slamming the door behind him, the lock turning ominously.

Pablo turned to me, outrage on his face, and said, “I had everything under control!” He shook like a wet duckling. This terrified boy was going to be a father. And everything he knew about being a father was based on the man who had just stormed away.

Behind me, my mom stood like a salt statue. Nico stayed next to her, and he whined before curling up at her feet.

We were all safe, but my brother and my mom didn’t thank me for stepping in. Instead, they both looked at me like I was deranged.

Without another word, I went back to my room. I lay on my bed in silence, regretting the burst of courage that hadn’t really accomplished anything.

At five in the morning, my period started after not coming for two full months. I peeked out my door to make sure it was safe to go to the bathroom and put a pad on. I rolled up my stained underwear and put it inside a plastic bag, which I placed on top of the bathroom window. I’d have time to wash it in the morning.

I stayed awake, watching the shadows on the wall fade as dawn approached. I tried to pray for my brother, for my mom, even for my dad, but the words died on my lips. I didn’t have enough faith. Getting away from this, far from my dad’s reach, was the only way I could survive. I wouldn’t be like Pablo.