“Jared treats me like a queen.” I pull back enough to smile up at him. “He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“He’s one lucky son of a bitch, is what he is.” A smile crinkles Zo’s eyes at the corners. “But he knows that.”
“Yes, he knows that.”
I disentangle myself and grab the bag I almost left in my haste to get the heck out.
“Tell Graciela I had to dash.” I turn to go.
“Love you, Banner,” Zo says softly.
I stop and look over my shoulder, catching the deep affection he holds for me in the glance we share. How many people are lucky enough to have friendships like this? Enduring friendships tried by fire that have survived the worst circumstances? Friends who have forgiven and forgotten transgressions so they don’t lose one another.
“Love you, too, Zo.”
I make my way out of the restaurant, guiltily hoping I don’t run into Graciela and her adorable baby bump again. When I do actually get pregnant, I don’t think it’ll be cute. Some women just have that delicate adorableness and subtle glow during pregnancy. I fully anticipate sweating like a stuck pig and blowing up to the size of Cleveland, judging by the pregnancies of my mother, aunts and every childbearing woman in my family to date.
Of necessity, I’ve learned to compartmentalize. This business, this pace, doesn’t slow down for anyone. Definitely not for a woman leading one of the fastest-growing sports agencies around. There’s no time for the disappointment settling in layers of sediment at the bottom of my belly. No time for the anxiety that would paralyze me if I stop moving. No time for the senseless envy blurring my vision as I think about that little mound under Graciela’s dress. There’s no room for jealousy. I have no right to it, so I set each and every blistering emotion aside and get back to work.
I soldier through meetings and conference calls, but in the back of my mind, I’m longing for this one spot, for this one moment as soon as the day is over. I think about that spot on the ride home. When I walk through the door, I pause in the foyer to absorb the quiet. After talking all day, pitching and persuading and negotiating, the silence is a relief. I need a little space to sort through all I’ve felt; how vulnerable and emotional I’ve been.
I strip away my suit and heels, carelessly discarding them on the closet floor. I’ve been caged by the silk sleeves sheathing my arms and the belt cinching my waist; corseted by the underwear disciplining my body into smoother lines and slimmer curves. The bra, the body shaper – gone, and it feels like my whole being releases a deep breath it’s been holding since I dressed this morning. I pad over to Jared’s side of the closet and rummage in his drawers until I find an old Kerrington College t-shirt. I wander up the hall to a room I haven’t allowed myself to think about much lately, but thought about all the way home.
Right now this guest bedroom only holds a few of Jared’s things from his old apartment; refugee furniture, displaced and finding no natural spot in this house, several boxes of books, and his Play Station, which I’ve basically outlawed. Grown men screaming on headsets and pretending to blow things up, that’s not advancing humanity in any way. He’s complied, but insists I keep him entertained sexually if he can’t play his games.
Fair trade.
This room is otherwise empty. Barren. Like me.
But when the realtor first showed this house, I was drawn to the window seat in here; how the soon-setting sun shone through glass and brightened the entire room. I envisioned myself sitting here feeding my baby and singing one of the arrullos my mama sang to my sister Camilla and me.
The last of the day’s light beckons me to the bench where my kindle lies abandoned on the cushion, dead and dusty. A few weeks ago I slipped in here to catch up on some reading, but Jared strode in growling something about less reading, more fucking. The rest is a blur.
The lyrics of “A La Nanita” tickle my memory, and a soft hum vibrates in my throat. A carol and lullaby to the baby Jesus, we’d sing it especially at Christmas, but I heard it crooned to babies in every season throughout my life.
A la nanita nana
nanita ella, nanita ella
Mi niñ(a) tiene sueño
bendito sea, bendito sea
Fuentecita que corre
Clara y sonora
Ruiseñor que en la selva
Cantando y llora
Calla mientras la cuna
Se balancea
A la nanita nana
Nanita ella