Page 74 of A Lie so Dangerous and Fragile

“Oh, okay.” She adjusted in her seat and leaned closer to her desk.

“We came here to see if we can, um … if we can …”

“Get her back,” Tristan finished the sentence for me.

Dr. Mendoza sighed softly and looked down at her table. She looked back at us and considered us for a second. “How old was she when you brought her?” she asked.

“Five months,” I replied.

“And you are aware of the terms and policy of this agency?”

“Yes.”

“What’s her name?”

“Kayla Simpson,” I replied with sweaty palms as she looked up the name on the computer in front of her.

My heart was about to burst out of my chest. I felt like throwing up the breakfast I’d had two hours ago. The wait was nerve-racking. Anxiety was starting to take control of my body. I was biting hard on my lip, almost drawing blood. I felt someone touch my hand.

I looked next to me at Tristan. He intertwined our fingers and gave my hand a soothing squeeze. He looked nervous too. I held on to his hand and said a prayer in my heart. I didn’t believe in prayers, but I was counting on it right now.

21

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Down

TWO YEARS AGO

I’d thought it would be easy after having the twins. I thought life would be all rainbows and sunshine. No one had said it would be this hard and maddening. No one had said you’d never get any sleep, that you had to feed them every hour and try desperately to make them stop crying. I was ready to sign my life away the first few weeks. If it wasn’t for Yoselin and Mrs. Rodriguez’s help, I would have died from exhaustion and lack of sleep.

I wasn’t working at the flower shop anymore. I had no time to work and take care of the twins at the same time. The little savings I had was only going to hold me for this week. I’d spent almost every penny on diapers and baby food.

I begged Yoselin to watch over the twins while I did job hunting the whole day. I luckily landed one, being an interpreter to tourists at a small museum that gave me the job on the spot. I got an extra weekend job at a local bar as a waitress.

I had to quit my job at the museum a few weeks later because I couldn’t juggle taking care of the twins and working two jobs. Yoselin had to help her mother at the flower shop and her sick father as well.

I didn’t know how I’d planned on having my own place here when I could barely stand on my feet or take care of the twins.

“Ay Dios mio, te ves tan delgada. Has estado comiendo?” my coworker at the bar asked me as I handed her an order, looking me over.

I laughed and scribbled a reminder down on the small book in my hand. I barely paid attention to myself. Some days, after breastfeeding, I felt drained both physically and mentally. I wasn’t eating as much as I needed to.

I pushed Sara away, laughing as she made a joke about my kids sucking the life out of me. I went to attend to a table, the regulars who, for some reason, found me fascinating because I was American, but they were friendly. I tried my best to avoid the rude ones, but even if I hated it here, I had no choice.

I left once the bar was closed. I usually left around two a.m. If it were up to me, I would have found something better, but this job fit with my schedule. I took care of the kids till five p.m., when Yoselin got back from the flower shop and helped me with the twins while I left for the bar. It was a fifteen-minute walk from the bar to the house. I wished Javier were still around, but he had moved to another city far from here, and I never heard from him again. So much for getting married.

I hated the late-night walks. It was like playing with fire, especially in this neighborhood. I had a knife in my bag just in case. I was only ten minutes away when I heard laughter and footsteps from behind me. I looked back and saw five men conversing.

I increased my pace, my hand slowly reaching inside my bag for the knife.

“Hey!” one of them screamed.

I didn’t bother listening to what they said next because I ran. My heart raced as footsteps echoed behind me. They kept shouting at me to stop, but my feet moved faster.

It didn’t take long before I was yanked by my bag and pulled back. They all snickered as they looked me over. One of them thought I was homeless, and another thought I was a prostitute, but another argued that I was too ugly to be a prostitute. They exchanged nasty words and kept laughing at each other’s insults.

I didn’t want to say anything. It was one against five, and no one was coming to save me. One of them yanked my bag away from me. They laughed when they saw the knife in my bag and made jokes about me being a killer.

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