“As you should. You’re a queen.”
“I’m a queen who needs a nap and a lawyer who doesn’t charge by the breath.”
We unpacked the empanadas while Eloise set the table like it was a state dinner. She arranged the plates, then rearranged them, then added a napkin folded into something that was either a swan or a triangle. It was hard to tell. She put the plastic dinosaur in the center as a centerpiece and declared it ready.
We ate. Eloise talked about school and her best friend Mia. How she’d learned to write the letter Q, which was the hardest letter because it had a tail and she didn’t understand why letters needed tails. I listened, asked questions, and watched my niece eat cheese empanadas with pure, uncomplicated joy—her biggest problem was the letter Q—and something in me loosened.
Then Eloise went quiet.
She put her empanada down and looked at her plate. Her little fingers pressed into the edge of the table.
“Auntie Miley?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Can I tell you something?”
“Of course, baby.”
“Daddy said Mommy is bad.” Her voice was small. “He said she won’t let me see him. But that’s not true. Mommy always lets me see Daddy. She packs my bag and everything.”
The kitchen went still. I looked at Vicky. My sister’s face had gone white. She put her fork down, slid off her chair, and knelt beside Eloise, pulling her daughter into her arms. Eloise went willingly, tucking her face into Vicky’s neck the way she always did when the world was confusing.
“Baby, listen to me.” Vicky’s voice was steady. I don’t know how. I was across the table and my hands were shaking. “Mommy would never keep you from Daddy. You know that, right? You can always see Daddy. Mommy makes sure of it.”
“Then why did he say that?”
“Sometimes grown-ups say things when they’re upset that aren’t true. It doesn’t mean Daddy is bad. It doesn’t mean Mommy is bad. It just means sometimes grown-ups make mistakes with their words.” She pulled back and held Eloise’s face in her hands and looked at her with so much love it was almost hard to watch. “You are the most important person in the whole world. Okay? To Mommy and to Daddy.”
Eloise nodded. Her eyes were still too big and too worried for a five-year-old but the storm passed quickly, carried away by a child’s faith that the grown-ups will fix everything. She asked if she could have another empanada. Vicky said yes. Eloise grabbed one and wandered back to the living room to resume her tea party, crown slightly more lopsided now.
Vicky watched her go. Then she stood, walked into the kitchen, and closed the door behind her.
I found her leaning against the counter with both hands braced on the edge, her head down, her shoulders shaking. No sound.
I put my arms around her from behind and held on. She didn’t turn around. She just stood there, gripping the counter, letting me hold her while her body did the thing it needed to do.
“He’s poisoning her,” Vicky whispered. “He’s telling a five-year-old that her mother is keeping her away. She’s going to grow up thinking I’m the villain.”
“She’s not going to think that.”
“You don’t know that. His family has money, lawyers, and they’re in her ear every other weekend. I can’t compete with that, Miley. I can’t afford a lawyer who fights back. I can barely afford groceries this week.” Her voice broke on the wordgroceriesand I felt it in my chest like a crack running through concrete. “I worked for his family for six years. I gave them everything. And they fired me the week I filed. No severance, no reference, nothing. Like I was nobody.”
“You are not nobody.”
“I feel like nobody.”
“Vic, look at me.” I turned her around. Her face was blotchy and her eyes were swollen, but she was still the strongest person I knew. “You left a man who cheated on you and treated you like garbage. You packed your bags and walked out with a five-year-old and no safety net. That is not nobody. That is someone with more guts than Greg and his entire family combined.”
She wiped her face with her sleeve. “You always do this.”
“Do what?”
“Make me feel like I can survive things.”
“That’s because you can. Torres sisters never?—”
“Don’t say it.”
