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I turn and walk toward the door. But then something stops me. It’s a sense of finality. If this is the last time I see her, I want her to see me. Really see me.
I turn around.
“Momma?” I say.
She tenses but doesn’t look up.
“I just thought you’d want to see me. See me with my belly like this. That’s…” I fade out, because I don’t know what else to say. I hear how naïve I sound. No, not naïve—stupid.
“You thought I’d want to see my slut daughter who thinks she’s better than me knocked up?” Momma says.
“Now, Mona. Let’s be careful with our word—” Ana Lucia starts, but Momma raises a hand, interrupting.
“So much better than me, right? Where’s the baby daddy? Huh? Is he hiding behind the coffee maker?” She leans over to look and Kyle laughs, a sharp wheezing sound that gets caught in his throat. “Or was he just some sperm donor you sucked and fucked so you’d have a place to stay?”
My cheeks burn. I’d called her once for advice about Joaquin when I was alone and sad and needed help. She’d told me there was no shame in exploring my feelings. It was one of the few lucid moments in the time since I’d been gone, and it had felt like good, honest advice at the time.
And now she’s throwing it in my face.
“Okay, let’s not say anything we can’t take back,” Ana Lucia says, standing between us.
“It’s okay,” I say, swallowing back a stupid sob. “I expected it.”
I realize that even though I expected this, I hoped she would be sober. Like that time before. Thatonetime. I feel foolish and embarrassed as Momma cackles.
“Oh, she expected it. Look how high and mighty she is,” Momma says.
Ana Lucia approaches and places her hand on my back, guiding me to the door.
“Come this way, dear,” she says, shielding me as if that’ll make up for this disaster.
I feel my shoulders shake as we step outside. She picks up a phone on the wall adjacent to the door and says something into the receiver. A moment later, a door buzzes and someone walks through and passes into the room in her place.
“I’m so sorry, Megan,” Ana Lucia says, squeezing my shoulder. “This sometimes happens, but I’m so sorry you flew down here, in your condition, for this. It’s not fair to you.”
“It’s okay,” I say with a little shrug, readjusting my purse strap on my shoulder.
“Megan,” she says, leaning over so I have to look at her. “It’s not okay. And it’s okay that it’s not okay. I hope you know that.”
I feel my chin wobble and before this very sweet stranger can pull me into a hug, I excuse myself. I make it as far as the concrete planter before I collapse onto it, sobbing. What seems like only moments later, Derek is kneeling in front of me.
“Princess? What is it?”
He blinks at me. He looks so scared, so worried. And my heart tears, just a little bit more, not knowing whether it’s for me or the baby.
I take a big sigh, and then tell him the truth. The stuff that won’t worry him.
“She married him,” I say. I let out a shaky breath as the sun blasts my shoulders. “She married Kyle. He…” I can’t continue. He’ll never look at me the same way. Never.
“He what?” His jaw is tight and he grips my knees like I’m the one holding him together.
“He’s her pimp,” I say. This is not what he was expecting. His nostrils flare and he leans back on his heels. “He’s her pimp. He’s her dealer. And he…”
“He what?”
I let out a long, shaky breath. We’re here. This is it. If he’s going to run, I may as well say it.
“I used to live with him.”
