Page 198 of Tell Me What You Want, Or Leave Me

“Calm down; calm down,” Eric says.

“I don’t want to calm down!” she yells.

Eric looks at me. He wants to kill her.

“Consider the hormones,” I whisper his way.

“Fuck the hormones,” he protests.

I take Raquel by the hand. She’s trembling and freaked out.

“I don’t ever want to see that guy again in my whole fucking life! I refuse!”

People look at us, and airport police officers approach us. They ask what’s going on, and Eric, as best he can, explains there are family problems. They nod and leave.

My man and I glance at each other. We’re baffled. Our beautiful night has ended at the airport, with my sister crying, pregnant and hormonal.

Eric decides to take charge of the situation. “C’mon, let’s go home. You should rest,” he tells her.

The three of us walk to the car. My sister doesn’t have luggage or anything. On the way, she tells us she was in Madrid to bring the girls to their father and that Juan Alberto called her while she was asleep with Lucía. Luz picked up the phone and told her they were having dinner at her father’s house and that both her parents were there. When Raquel went to talk to him, he went crazy, and, like a hydra, she told him to go fuck himself.

When we get home, Sonia has just given my baby a bottle and is very surprised to see us. But with one look at my sister, and after a few words with her son, she decides just to listen and keep quiet.

Raquel and I go see my little one, who sleeps like an angel. He’s beautiful. My sister cries, and I help her settle into a guest room. I give her pajamas and make her lie down and join her. I don’t want to leave her alone.

“Are you any better?” I ask in the darkness of the room.

“No, I’m terrible. I’m sorry I’ve ruined your and Eric’s party.”

“That doesn’t matter, Raquel.”

She moans pitifully.

“I’ve already gotten my express divorce.”

“When did you find out?”

“The papers arrived two days ago. Legally, I’m a single woman again, Cuchu. And I...I...” She can’t go on because her tears are back.

What a hard time she’s having, my poor Raquel.

“What are you going to do?” I ask her once she calms down.

“With what?”

“With the baby. Are you going to tell Juan Alberto?”

“I thought about telling him when I told him about the divorce. I’d bought a ticket to Mexico, and I was going to surprise him, but now I don’t want to see him. That guy accused me of being a bad woman. He must have thought he was fucking a cheeseball, like his ex-wife.”

My sister’s way of speaking always cracks me up. But it’s no time to laugh. She’s crying again. I try to comfort her, but it’s hard. Suffering because of love while pregnant is crappy. It’s the worst of the worst, and when she falls asleep, I get up stealthily and go back to our room. Eric is playing with our little boy.

“How’d it go?” he asks.

“It sucks, poor thing,” I say.

“What should we do? Should we call Juan Alberto?”

I don’t know what to do. Getting mixed up in other people’s problems has never been my thing, and I decide against it. It’s Raquel’s problem, and she has to make the decisions. I hug Eric.

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