Much skinnier than before, my mother was perched on the arm of the couch and shaky with nerves. Breaking the rules of the house—rules she knew perfectly well—she lit cigarette after cigarette and inhaled deeply, as if in the drifting substance entering her lungs she hoped to find the courage to look me in the eyes. She hadn’t come for me. She seemed more interested to know if I was well behaved, if I did my homework and my chores, and if my aunt would agree to let me stay longer. Some comment was made about a bank account that would take care of her expenses, or mine. I didn’t really understand that part. What I did easily grasp was that she was very frightened. Practical as ever, my aunt gave me the explanation her sister was not able to formulate:

“Your mother has decided to check herself into a clinic. We think it’s best and we are supporting her.”

Before I could answer, Claudine left the room so we’d be alone. Mom trembled in silence. I went over to the couch and with all the affection in the world hugged her. All of my doubts disappeared in that moment; as accustomed as I’d become to the new family, I still belonged to her and it was with her that I wanted to live. In a low voice, a voice for secrets, I told her about my cousins, about how horrible riding the bus with them was; I exaggerated as much as I could my living conditions so that she would take me with her to the studio, to the clinic, to wherever. I promised to take care of her and in response I received the heat of her tarred breath. After a few minutes my aunt returned to take her away.

I remember the heavy downpour that fell that night. Isabel and Clemencia knocked on my door several times. The silhouette of the umbrella reflected in one of my windows. It’s not that I didn’t want to see or speak to them. I just didn’t have the strength to get out of bed and open the door. The only company I had was that of a very small cockroach who remained near the desk in the corner all night. An orphaned cockroach, probably frightened, who didn’t know which way to turn.

Felina

Felina