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“You’ve just made me the happiest man in the world.”
“I have?”
She has no idea what she means to me, but I’ll show her. I’ll make her see this is the best news ever. Being a father is more than I could have ever hoped for, especially with a woman as special as Leticia.
1 Thank you.
2 I’m pregnant.
50
Leticia
The last few weeks have been one big roller coaster. One day I’m telling Diego that he’s going to be a dad and we’re having a baby, and the next we’re looking for a house, because his house in Daganzo is occupied with nearly every relative under the sun.
I don’t want to live in central Madrid even though they have houses in other parts of Spain. I want to be near to Cobeña if we can’t live here, which feels as if it is more unlikely every single day, because the market is really small. Houses tend to be passed on from one generation to the next.
There are new ones on sale every six months in this village, at times even less than that. Mamá said that we can live with them, but Diego doesn’t want to, and neither do I.
As much as I love Mamá, it’s clear we were never close, and now there’s a question about the inheritance, because we have always lived in Abuela’s house, but Mamá wasn’t her only child.
Times are hard and mi tía wants the house sold and for them to split the proceeds. Mamá doesn’t want to leave, because as she rightly said, she stayed while Tía left.
Diego goes out to Tokyo once every six weeks to make sure his business operations there are going to plan. Whereas I’m painting nearly every day.
The rest of the time, he’s either here helping me or just getting on my nerves.
I think that’s why we get on so well. We’re far from perfect and learn something new about each other, constantly. But at times he tests my patience and I worry that a baby will make us want to kill each other.
“Carino. You’re not going to believe this,” he says as he storms into the kitchen. “Leave your paintbrush. Fix your hair a bit. Step out of those dungarees.”
I narrow my eyes at him. He knows that I’m not to be messed with.
“Or don’t step out of them. Either way. Whatever you want. But I have found the perfect house for us.”
He means the perfect house for him.
“It’s ten-minute walk from here. Yes, it’s in Cobeña. No neighbors that can hear us when we …”
Just then Mamá walks in, and on that note she walks right back out again.
“We have our privacy. I can have my own office, and we have enough room for our kids. It’s perfect. Get ready and I’ll wait for you here.”
Then he pats me on the head. He has been doing that a lot recently and it irritates me. I leave my paintbrush, and then frown at the idea of having to leave the house. I did think about stopping early today and just having a bath and asking him if he can give a massage like he did the other night. Then I remember the noise, and why he said that. Papá banged on the wall and told us to keep it down.
No more were we in the mood. We vowed not to ever do it in mi abuela’s house, but somehow this second trimester has mewanting it all the time. He said that if I get any rougher, then we won’t be having any more kids, because his dick will drop off. We haven’t even had one, and he keeps talking about them in plural. I’m too scared to ask how many he wants.
I head into the bathroom and take a quick shower. I do look a mess, and I must admit I don’t smell great. The weather has been all over the place. One minute it is as if we’re in the middle of summer and the next in winter. Either way, I know I can’t decide what to wear, so my dungarees are the best. I look in the mirror at the reflection before me, it doesn’t scream sexy—anything but sexy.
I sigh as I think about how I used to care about my appearance just a bit and now it’s the last thing on my mind. Now, it’s all about painting and sex. They say that men think about sex ninety percent of the time, so now I know how they feel, and it’s not pretty. It’s not pretty at all.
Especially when he goes to Tokyo. Next week will be the last trip there for a while, and maybe if this house is ours then it will be.
As I finish my shower, I try and dry my hair as much as I can before putting it in a bun. I put on a dress, the yellow one with sunflowers on it that mi abuela always liked me in, and Diego does too. He says it brings out the color in my eyes. I put on some sandals and I’m ready to go look at our future house.
As I climb down the stairs I expect to only see Diego there, but then the whole family’s coming to view the house.
“Aren’t we going alone?” I ask Diego.
