He grabbed my hair.
And he yelled at me to stop whining and leave me. Meanwhile, my father looked away with contempt and my sister smiled when she said that she would finally have the room just for her…
Until my husband arrived.
And everything changed.
……
My name is Lucia Hernandez. I’m thirty-one years old. And I was kicked out of the house twenty-four hours after a C-section.
Not from my flat.
But that of my parents, in Ecatepec, where I was recovering because in the apartment I shared with my husband, Mateo García, they were still fixing a water leak that had left the bedroom upside down.
Mateo had gone out to the pharmacy for antibiotics, gauze and postpartum towels that I had been sent in the hospital.
I was in my old room, with my daughter Valeria asleep in the Moses, moving slowly because each step pulled my stitches.
Then my mom’s cell phone rang, Carmen. And as soon as he hung up, he went into the room with that sharp face he always put when it came to my sister.
“Your sister is coming this afternoon with the baby,” he said.
He needs this room more than you.
I thought it was a cruel joke.
My sister Daniela, two years younger than me, had just had a child and had been the center of the house for a lifetime.
Still, I thought not even my mother would be able to say that in front of a newly operated woman.
“Mom, I can barely get up,” I said.
Let me at least rest until Mateo comes back. Then we see how to organize ourselves.
She didn’t even blink.
You’re moving perfectly.
Leave a Comment