Page 32 of Primal God

Clara says, “Isadora is a baby and doesn’t know how to play, but we guess you can stay. Just don’t let her get into our things.”

Diego taps his sister’s hand, and she sighs.

“Fine. She can play with the blocks.”

She pushes a pile of blocks toward me. I sit, keeping Isadora on my lap. She’s more than happy to play with the blocks in front of her and doesn’t try to walk away.

There’s a moment when I realize just how surreal this is. I’m sitting here, playing with my daughter’s siblings. My breath catches. She should be here, with them, but I know that can’t happen. I already know what Dr. Santos thinks of me. If he finds out I had his child and kept it a secret from him, then there’s no telling what he’ll do.

“Thank you, Diego and Clara, for letting us play. It’s hard making new friends, and the two of you have made it much easier.”

“Why is it hard to make friends?” Clara asks. “You’re a grown up.”

Ha! That’s debatable some days, like when I was trying to parallel park in downtown Dallas a few weeks ago. I sure as heck didn’t feel like an adult when an older man tapped on my window and offered to help me park. My solution was to drive until I found a parking lot. Talk about embarrassing!

“I am a grown up,” I agree. “But it can still be hard to make friends. What do you and Diego do when you want to make a new friend?”

“We don’t need friends. We have each other.”

“You’re very lucky to have each other, too.” I try a different tactic. “You take ballet classes, right?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have any friends there?”

She glances at Diego, as if she’s afraid to answer. He’s watching her, as if he’s waiting to hear what she has to say, too.

“Yes, I have friends,” she finally says.

“Was it scary meeting someone new? Someone who wasn’t Diego?”

She thinks. “Kind of. But then they let me play with them before class and we became friends.”

“Kind of like you and Diego are letting me play.” I smile. “Does this mean we’re friends?”

Clara rolls her bottom lip between her teeth. “Yes.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

“You’re not like the others.”

“Others?”

“The other nannies,” she clarifies.

“Oh?”

She glances at Diego. “We like you. We didn’t like them.”

“I’m glad because I like both of you.” I tap Isadora’s tiny arm. “And her.”

Clara says, “She’s okay, I guess.” She hands me an action figure. “Here. You can be this one. We like him best. He reminds us ofPapai.”

I take the figure, smiling. I can see why it reminds them of Dr. Santos with his grey hair.

“Okay, so what are we playing?”

It’s just after eight when the twins are tucked away in bed.

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