Chương 4
“Sofi, I know you can hear me.”
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Maribel waited for instructions.
“Let him talk from there,” Sofía said.
Maribel sat again.
Andrés remained on the other side of the curtain.
“I’m sorry.”
Sofía looked at the shadow of his shoes beneath the fabric.
“For what?”
He was silent.
The pause lasted too long.
“For all of it.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“My dad should never have touched you.”
“Kicked me.”
“Okay.”
Her eyes opened.
“Okay?”
“No, I mean, yes, kicked you.”
“And your mother?”
“She shouldn’t have grabbed you.”
“And you?”
Another silence.
Sofía could almost see him rubbing the back of his neck.
It was what he did when he wanted time.
“I froze.”
“That’s what you’re calling it?”
“I didn’t know what to do.”
“You could have helped me stand.”
“I know.”
“You could have stopped your brother from taking my car.”
“I know.”
“You could have told your father he was wrong.”
“I know.”
His voice cracked on the last one.
Sofía felt no satisfaction.
She wanted him to argue.
She wanted something solid enough to hate.
Instead there was only the familiar softness that had once seemed kind.
Now it looked different.
“I didn’t know about the baby,” he said.
“Neither did your father.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
Sofía looked at Maribel.
Maribel lowered her gaze, giving her what little privacy the curtain allowed.
Andrés breathed on the other side.
“I would’ve wanted that baby.”
Sofía’s throat tightened.
“I wanted the baby too.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You keep saying that.”
“What else am I supposed to say?”
She almost answered.
Then she stopped.
That question was larger than the hospital room.
He sounded genuinely lost.
For years, she had mistaken his helplessness for gentleness.
She had filled in his silences with better motives.
She had defended him to her mother.
He hates conflict.
He grew up like that.
His father is difficult.
His mother gets emotional.
He’ll learn.
A relationship could survive many things, she had believed.
Maybe it could even survive cowardice if cowardice admitted its own name.
“Tell the police what happened,” she said.
The hallway went quiet.
Sofía waited.
“What?”
“Tell them what you saw.”
“All of it.”
“Yes.”
“Your mother grabbing me.”
“Yes.”
“Your father kicking me.”
“Yes.”
“And you standing there.”
Andrés did not answer.
Sofía felt something cold settle into place.
She had found the boundary of his willingness.
Not at violence.
At shame.
“I can tell them what Dad did.”
“That isn’t all that happened.”
“My part isn’t relevant.”
“It’s relevant to me.”
“Sofía, come on.”
The softness disappeared.
There it was.
A little irritation.
A little defensiveness.
Something almost like relief because he had finally found ground he understood.
“You’re making me sound like I helped him.”
“You helped no one.”
“That’s not the same.”
“No.”
Sofía’s voice became very quiet.
“It isn’t.”
Andrés exhaled hard.
“My mother is a mess.”
Sofía stared at the curtain.
For a second she honestly thought she had misunderstood him.
Then he continued.
“She thinks Dad’s going to be arrested.”
“I lost a pregnancy.”
“I know.”
“Tonight.”
“I know.”
“And you’re telling me your mother is upset.”
“I’m telling you everybody is falling apart.”
“Everybody?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, Andrés.”
Her hand tightened around the hospital blanket.
“I don’t think I do anymore.”
He lowered his voice.
“My dad is sixty-three.”
Sofía laughed once, without humor.
“And?”
“He has blood pressure problems.”
“Then he shouldn’t kick people.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying maybe there’s a way to handle this without destroying everyone.”
Sofía felt suddenly very still.
Not angry.
Still.
A nurse rolled a medication cart past Andrés in the hallway.
The wheels rattled over a seam in the floor.
Someone asked him to move aside.
He apologized automatically.
Even now, Sofía noticed.
Polite to strangers.
Careful with strangers.
The cruelty was reserved for places where he expected forgiveness.
“You think I’m destroying everyone?” she asked.
“No.”
“You just said that.”
“I said this could.”
“What is this?”
He hesitated.
“The police.”
Sofía looked down at the bruising under the edge of her gown.
“The police didn’t kick me.”
“I know that.”
“Then stop talking like the report is the problem.”
Andrés said nothing.
The silence between them changed.
It no longer felt like an unfinished argument.
It felt like information.
Lucía returned at the far end of the hallway.
Sofía could hear her speaking to the security guard.
“Go home, Andrés.”
“Sofi, please.”
“Tell the truth when they ask you.”
“All of it.”
He did not promise again.
His shoes remained beneath the curtain for several seconds.
Then they turned.
Sofía listened to his steps fade toward the elevators.
Maribel picked up the untouched crackers.
“You want me to throw these away?”
“No.”
Sofía took one.
It tasted like cardboard.
She chewed anyway.
Lucía entered and pulled the chair closer.
“Mr. Herrera has agreed to give a statement.”
Sofía swallowed.
“My husband?”
“Yes.”
“Did he say what he saw?”
“Not yet.”
Lucía looked at her notes.
“Another unit is going to the house.”
Sofía’s pulse quickened.
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“Will Ramiro be arrested?”
“That depends on what they establish there and what the supervising prosecutor authorizes.”
Sofía nodded.
Again, no promises.
Again, she preferred it.
Lucía continued.
“There’s something else.”
Sofía looked up.
“Your brother-in-law called emergency dispatch about forty minutes ago.”
“Iván?”
“He reported a family disturbance.”
Sofía frowned.
“Why?”
“He apparently became concerned after you left.”
“That doesn’t sound like him.”
“No?”
“No.”
Lucía turned one page in her notebook.
“He also told dispatch that there may be a security camera across the street that faces part of the front entrance.”
Sofía’s mind went immediately to the blue house opposite Carmen and Ramiro’s.
An older couple lived there.
The husband washed his sidewalk every morning before seven.
May you like
A small black camera sat beneath their second-floor balcony.
She had seen it dozens of times without caring.
