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“You need to go shopping, Belle,” Patsy said by way of greeting.
Andrea opened a tupperware and sniffed the contents before making a face and tossing it back in the fridge. “I hope you’re feeding Papa well.”
Instead of responding, I counted to ten in my head. “Are you staying for dinner?” I asked instead.
My sisters trilled laughter. “Are you kidding?” Andrea asked. “It’s a Friday night. We have dates!”
I regarded my sisters. Sure enough, their clothes were even tighter than usual, and they tottered slightly on sky-high heels. Patsy’s hair held enough hairspray that I could smell it from the doorway, and Andrea had done her best to cover her acne-scarred skin with layers of makeup. “You both look nice,” I said kindly.
Patsy sniffed and eyed my work outfit critically. “You know, Belle, if you put a little more effort into your appearance, Luis might still be around.”
Andrea gave a shocked, abrasive laugh.
This time, I couldn’t bite my tongue. “He is still around. I can’t seem to get rid of him.”
Patsy rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Belle, I don’t know what your problem is. Luis is handsome and successful, and he’s willing to put up with you. It’s not like you’re going to do better.”
I sighed. I could try to explain, once again, how Luis had changed after our marriage; how he’d grown jealous and controlling, wanting me to quit my job and stay home. A military man, Luis was often gone for long periods of time, and I knew that I didn’t want a life of cooking and cleaning, waiting for a man to come home. I could try to explain all that, but I knew my sisters wouldn’t understand.
Growing up, I had often wished for sisters who I could confide in. It had taken me many years to accept that I would never have that relationship with Patsy and Andrea; they were simply too different. Try as I might, I could never connect with them, and eventually I had just stopped trying.
My brothers, Ricky, Gabriel, and Miguel, were no different. Sporty and rambunctious, they had little interest in their quiet, bookish youngest sister. As a child, I had found my refuge in books; as an adult, in my work and in caring for our father.
I mumbled something about going to my room, feeling like a teenager once again as I shut my door on my sisters’ peeling laughter and dropped onto my bed. In my pocket, my phone buzzed, and I groaned. I knew without looking that it would be Luis, that he wouldn’t stop calling until I answered. I considered picking up, staring at the image of him on my phone screen.
I should really change that, I thought. It was a picture from our wedding day; Luis looking handsome and strong in his military uniform as he gazed at me in my white gown.
When was the last time he had looked at me like that? I couldn’t remember. Everything had seemed so simple when we married, so straightforward. Now, nothing did. Sighing, I hit ignore, then turned off my phone before he had the chance to call me back. I knew I was taking the chance that he would show up at my door instead, but I couldn’t handle another endless phone conversation where nothing got solved and he didn’t listen to a word I said.
Right on cue, there was a banging at the front door. Luis must have been standing outside, waiting to see if I would pick up or not.
“Isabel!” he called, “I know you’re in there.” I rushed to reach the door before my father could be disturbed by the commotion.
“Luis,” I said, “you shouldn’t be here.”
Luis pushed past me as if he didn’t hear. He had been drinking; I could smell the liquor on his breath and seeping out of his pores.
“You didn’t answer my call,” he said, turning to face me.
“I have a lot of work to get done tonight, Luis,” I said. Not a lie.
He scoffed. “Work. You know I hate that you insist on staying at that shit job. No wife of mine should have to work.”
“I know I don’t have to,” I said, consciously making my voice low, soothing. “I like it there. I like working. For now,” I added quickly as Luis opened his mouth to object.
“You should come home,” he said, swaying slightly. Luis never could hold his liquor, and I predicted that I had maybe half an hour to get him out of the house before he passed out.
“I’ve told you, I can’t come home just yet,” I said. “My father needs me right now.” I’m not coming home, ever, I thought, but kept that part to myself. There was no need to antagonize Luis right now.
“I need you,” he insisted. “I’m not signing those papers you sent me. I tore them up. Divorce is a sin.”
