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“I missed you too, baby.” I lean back, holding onto her shoulders as I look at her. It feels like she grows constantly when I’m not near her. I’m worried I’ll be resented in the future for not doing more. Not being there more. But I’m doing what I can, and I hope one day she’ll see it as enough.
I had Lilah three years ago. Being pregnant with her was the happiest and scariest time of my entire life. Her eyes might be mine, but her dark, curly hair is an exact replica of her father.
Santiago took me as his. Mentally and physically. There was nothing left as he owned me as his. I’m glad for the time I was pregnant, because Santiago lightened up on me and I wasn’t whipped, hit, or used nearly as much.
When I had Lilah, it was the scariest moment of my life. My water broke in the middle of the night and I had no idea what I was supposed to do. Santiago had been calling in a doctor for my checkups. I didn’t know what would happen when I gave birth or where I was going to give birth, so waking up with fluid rushing down my legs threw me into a hysteria.
I ran in my nightgown through the night, into the main house and crying and screaming for help. Ms. Maria ran down the stairs in confusion until she saw me, and then she snapped into action. I was ushered upstairs into a room I have never been in. The next hour was a blur, house staff running in and out of the room. Santiago never came, thankfully. Just as the pain became unbearable, the doctor rushed in. I only pushed for thirty minutes, and then the tiny cry filtered through the air and I broke down in a sob. They laid her on my chest, and for that single moment I felt like my life would be okay.
Life was somewhat normal for the next year. Lilah was brought into my room in a crib while I was breastfeeding. I didn’t need to go to meals with Santiago if I was held up with Lilah, breastfeeding, or if she was crabby.
But once she turned one, shit went to hell again. Lilah was ushered into the main house. Santiago’s reasoning was that no way in hell his child would be staying in a hut. It doesn’t make much sense to me, since he’s a little bit cold towards her and not at all like a father should be. But he keeps her safe in that mansion, and for that I’m grateful.
Santiago called a doctor in shortly after Lilah was moved into the main house. I was forced into a position like I was giving birth, with Santiago standing over the doctor’s shoulder. As the doctor who didn’t speak English pried my privates opened with a cold, metal instrument, I felt an achy cramp that felt strangely similar to labor pains. Once done, I cried on my back as my legs flopped down. I pushed my dress over my knees to hide myself from the monster in front of me. I had no idea what he did until he growled to me, “You have a birth control inside of you now. You will not be getting pregnant anytime soon.” And with a scowl, he turned on his heels and left the room without another word. The doctor left shortly after, leaving me to sob in the room I gave birth in until Ms. Maria came in to usher me back to my hut.
Now I feel lost at times. I don’t get to sleep near my daughter. I miss my daughter. I long for those nights when she was an infant and I could hold her, pretending we were a long way away from her father. My fingers prickle with the need to lift her into my arms and run away with her.
My life would end, then. And Lilah would be subject to a life with Santiago at her side, and that worries me more than anything else.
“Mama!” Lilah pulls on my shirt, and I snap out of my daydream and gaze down at her.
“What is it, baby?”
She lifts a piece of paper and waves it in my face. “Look at my picture! Can we draw pictures, Mommy?” I slide it from her tiny fingers and look at the swirls and mixture of colors in a blob of abstract art.
“Wow! This is beautiful! What is it?” I pull her inside and shut the door. I should be wanting to spend the day outside with my daughter, but the last thing I want is to have Santiago or one of his staff see us and come and bother us.
“Mommy and Lilah at the beach!” Her sentence breaks down in a fit of giggles, and I giggle along with her. Her yellow dress is as bright as the sun, hitting her knees and swaying with Lilah’s constant movements. Her curls bounce in excitement, even as it’s tied up in a half ponytail.
“That’s so cool!” We’ve never been to the beach, but I imagine she’s heard stories from Ms. Maria or Elena.
“Mommy, will you draw a picture with me?” She looks up at me with her big eyes and I melt under her stare. Her little cherub cheeks are always a little rosy red, and her skin will always be a shade darker than mine. But she’s perfect in my eyes and I couldn’t imagine my life without her.
I walk over to the small area in my bedroom that has some kid toys and pulls out the coloring supplies. We sit at the small table that Santiago had brought in here after Lilah asked her father,“Why does Mommy only have a bed in her house?”Santiago’s jaw ticked as he allowed me any sort of freedom or gift. He’s the type of person that needs to be in control at all times. Having his daughter look at him with her clear blue eyes and ask such a question that would make him look like a villain in any way had him folding for once in his life.
We sit in the miniature chairs and draw silently. Lilah draws more swirls and squiggles and tells me about her morning. I get to spend most of my weekends with her, as Santiago often leaves for business on the weekends. On the weekdays, I am obligated to be at his beck and call that it feels like I barely get to spend time with Lilah. Being Friday, I’m heartbroken that there’s a party this evening, because it takes away my times with Lilah. Instead, I have to spend time with a monster, and that makes it ten times worse.
I draw a picture of Lilah and I playing in the water at the ocean. I’ve never seen the ocean myself. I grew up and spent my entire life in Ohio. The first and only time I left was being kidnapped and brought down to Mexico. But I still pretend, drawing the harsh waves of the ocean licking at our ankles as we splash in the water. The sun sets over the horizon, and an almost desperate need takes over as I draw us—my daughter and I—finally being free.
“Mommy, you crying?” Lilah hops off her seat and walks over to me, grabbing onto my legs with her tiny fingers as she crawls into my lap. Her arms hook around my neck as she brings me in for her small but strong hug.
I smile at her as I wipe my eyes. “I’m okay. Just sad because I don’t get as much time with you today as I usually do. Should we go outside? Play hopscotch or go look in the flower garden?”
Lilah forgets about my tears as I talk about flowers. “Flower garden! Let’s go to the flower garden!”
Ever since Lilah could walk, she has been obsessed with flowers. The first summer when she was still wobbly on her feet, we waddled all the way over to the flower garden and fell face first into colorful petals. The gardener was pissed, but ever since then, Lilah has always wanted to see the flowers.
Whether it be the soft velvet feel of the petals or the colorful sunflowers, orchids, marigolds, and gladiolus, Lilah loves them all. To see the smile split between her little pouty lips is something that keeps me going in this retched hell.
I stand up, reaching my hand down and waiting for her to place her hand in mine. “Okay, then. Let’s go check out the flower garden.”
5
Ivy
“You look lovely, Ivy.” Elana finishes the last couple curls of my hair. I look beautiful, I’ll give her that. The somber air doesn’t lessen as time goes on though, and it’s because we both understand what kind of a party this will be tonight. We both know what kind of man Santiago is.
“Thanks.” I sigh as she unplugs the straightener. My blonde hair now hangs down my back in loose curls, and my blue eyes stand out with the dark smokey eye Elana created earlier. A soft red lip tops off my looks.
